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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

HANK

Monday morning, Angie and I sit in my car in the office parking lot, each drinking coffee from paper cups while people in business attire hurry through.

“After years of effort to make my job secure and reliable, the offices are weirdly daunting. It’s like I returned to civilization, and now everything is different.”

“I wish you could hide in tech with me all day,” Angie says.

“I’ve got meetings on my schedule. I’m sure Darryl Peterson will have his eye on me, too.”

“Most everyone at work has been sincerely concerned for you,” Angie assures me. “And for Elliot. The tawdry gossip has only risen to a murmur.”

I glance at my phone. “He’s at the protest today. I hope it goes smoothly.”

I’m proud of Elliot for doing this and showing up for his friends, but I’m still concerned. He’s been full-speed ahead since our rescue. At least I had some forced time off.

“The media attention on you seems to be easing,” Angie says. “Fewer ridiculous conspiracy theories, although romantic speculation continues.”

I shift in my seat. “If things keep going well with Elliot, eventually, I’ll have to tell Darryl Peterson that I’m seeing his son.

I have no idea how that confrontation will turn out, and I’m learning somewhat to live with the anxious professional uncertainty.

But I hadn’t fully appreciated how awkward it would be in the interim. Secret relationships are stressful.”

“He’s uptight, but try not to take on Mr. Peterson’s issues,” Angie says. “Not now, especially. After what you and Elliot went through, you get all the space you need to work things out together.”

I nod, encouraged. “Thank you. And thanks for agreeing to come to game night at his place.”

“My pleasure. With the tea thing, it sounds fun. And it means I get to spy on you and your new man with the sexy beard.”

“He really is growing it in,” I agree, appreciating.

Angie taps the time on the dashboard, and I nod. Gathering up my determination, I head into the office with my sister by my side.

Everyone we pass double-takes and tries not to stare at me.

It makes me self-conscious of the ways I still look weathered, the dry patches on my skin, a sunken quality to my eyes that’s lingering.

At the front desk, where we check in, the workers get wide-eyed while Angie monotones about traffic patterns to distract from the awkwardness.

And in the elevator up, a woman I don’t recognize clearly texts about me while inches away.

It’s bothersome. I’ve spent every working day here for years, but the life I used to know feels impossibly distant.

At Angie’s floor, she puts a hand on my shoulder. “See you at lunch?”

I nod. “Enjoy your morning.”

When I step off the elevator, the office hums with energy, keyboards clacking and phones ringing.

There’s an open concept in the middle with large wooden tables and wood-panel dividers, and offices with closed doors all around.

I take a moment to reorient, familiarizing myself with the steady, busy rhythm again.

My coworker Ned appears in front of me with a mug that reads “Ned’s Mug.”

“Hank! I heard you might be back today.” He thrusts his hand forward. “Good to see you! We’re all just thrilled that you didn’t drown.”

I take his hand and shake it. “Thank you. It’s good to be back.”

Ned eases back on his heel. “Quite a hubbub around here.” He chuckles abruptly. “Although I suppose you’re my boss now, aren’t you? Probably bad form to repeat the office gossip to you.” Ned sticks his hand out again. “A promotion and you didn’t die! What a month you’ve had.”

I shake his hand again. “Thank you again, Ned. And no need for formalities now that you report to me. You’re always welcome to stop by my office.”

“Glad to hear it.” His face falls. “Shame about casino night, though.”

“What about it?”

“They’ve canceled the tradition. After everything that happened, management has decided it would be upsetting to repeat the event. Seems the boat company was cut-rate, too. But I suppose all good things must come to an end.”

I manage to hide my excitement with a concerned nod. “Yes. It seems so.” Strange, though, that the boat company was cheap. I know from the internal books that plenty of funds were pushed toward casino night.

Ned does remind me that I’m upper management now, and I head straight to the executive desk to check in. I expect to be sent to my new office, but instead, I’m redirected to Darryl Peterson.

As I walk up, my heart beating, he pulls the door open and ushers me in.

It’s routine to check in with the new Finance Director of Audits, especially on his first day, I remind myself. But after the press conference, he did suggest my employment was conditional on the publicity fallout.

His office blinds are open, and the sun glares behind the tall windows that occupy the rear wall. The rest of the room is stuffed with file cabinets and bookshelves, and there are framed papers on the few blank wall spots.

He stands stiffly beside his desk, hands behind his back, and nods for me to shut the door.

When it clicks, I turn to him. He doesn’t offer me a seat, so I stand and try my best to look confident and not guilt-ridden.

“Your health is fine?” he asks shortly. “You’re capable of returning to your responsibilities?”

It’s not the question I feared, and I quickly answer.

“Yes, thank you. I’m eager to start.”

“I know you’ll be busy catching your team up. And you’re high enough up in the company now that I’m sure you’ve heard that we’re dealing with several complications at the executive level.”

That must have been what Ned was referencing.

“There’s nothing for you to concern yourself with,” he continues. “From you, Hansley, I need only discreet professionalism. I need your name out of the news, and the extra scrutiny turned away from the firm. Do you understand?”

“Yes. That’s all I want as well.”

He frowns. “I can’t expect you to control my son. God knows I never could. And I’ve heard all the rumors that are spreading. I’ll chose not to believe any of that filth, and grant that you were only trying to keep him out of trouble. But I insist you distance yourself from him going forward.”

I feel sick to my stomach. There’s no way I’m about to promise something like that.

“I understand,” I tell him, thinking fast. “But might I make a suggestion?”

He looks at me expectantly, even a little impatient. It makes me think of Elliot’s stories, how it must have felt for him to grow up with this man.

“Elliot is also trying to move on,” I tell him. “I agree—your son and I both need to stay away from the spotlight. But I believe I can offer him support during this uniquely challenging time.”

Support that maybe you should be offering, too , I think, but don’t add.

He shakes his head. “You must not have heard me clearly. Your responsibility at this moment, Hansley, is to put the media circus to rest. If you cannot do that, we can find someone else who can. I’d hate to have to spread word around town that you’re unreliable. Understood?”

Chilled and feeling the sting, I nod. “Yes. I understand.”

“Good. That will be all.”

My heart pounding, I exit. I’m in a daze as I pick up the keys and move into my new office, which is very small but private. There’s a cardboard box with my stuff sitting beside the desktop computer.

I shut the door and sit behind the desk. “Shit.”

I toss through my emotions, trying to make sense.

An indignant part of me pushes back against Darryl Peterson, but I’m also checking myself.

I need to be cautious here. Elliot and I cannot be seen together, and it would be unreasonable of me to expect my boss to simply accept an employee seeing his son.

Once all of this nonsense has passed, the attention off and the firm past its crisis, then Elliot and I can consider going public and talking to his father. The consequences will fade with time, and if this really is love, the eventual turbulence will be worth it.

My head spins when I consider that. Love .

I’m not ready to declare my love for Elliot, but despite the brief time we’ve known each other, I do feel something that I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.

When I think of him, I feel hopeful, ready for whatever comes our way next. Eager just to see him again, touch him.

The phone on my desk rings, and I’m pulled into my first meeting.

My team catches me up quickly, and the morning continues full-pace.

I barely have a moment to refill my coffee between reviewing spreadsheets and signing off on documents, although curiosity does lead me to take a moment at lunch to check the casino boat budget.

I’m surprised to see the entire event budget riddled with inconsistencies. It all falls under the purview of our COO, but I know he’s out of town this week, so I flag a few things before sending along to Mr. Peterson, not wanting to leave any loose ends.

The avalanche of numbers does me good. Sorting everything out and feeling useful proves therapeutic, although the routine meetings of upper-management wear me back down. It’s not until the afternoon that I finally have a moment to breathe.

I check my phone, curious for a message from Elliot to hear how his day is going. In another world, I’d love to be there and see the drag shows with him, watch the rally come together and support their cause.

There’s no message from Elliot, but one from Angie appears with a link attached.

Angie: Have you seen this?

When I open the link, it’s a video from social media.

Elliot is in front of the climate protest, wearing a sundress and holding something brown in his hand.

He looks panicked, and he takes one big glance around before turning and running.

The bouncy camera chases after him, but loses Elliot when he throws himself over a fence while some Britney Spears impersonators walk by.

Elliot Peterson Spotted! First Public Appearance at Massive Protest!

I grimace. “Damn it.”

Quickly, I shoot off a message to Elliot.

Hank: Saw the video. Please let me know you are okay.

I add a red heart before hitting send. Concern troubling my thoughts, I step out into the office and head toward the elevator. As I pass Darryl Peterson’s office, he stalks out and looks at the young man working his desk.

“Get my son Elliot on the phone,” he says, voice icy. “Immediately.”