Page 23 of Under Locke & Key

“We’re a bit behind, I think. It took a while to close on the building, we haven’t been able to check out very many escape rooms, and we haven’t even started brainstorming room ideas even though we’ve been learning a lot about mechanics.”

Logan grimaces at the stress in Bryce’s voice and I can’t lie and say I haven’t seen those dark circles and sad brackets beside his mouth. Not as bad as the day I first met him but nowhere close to gone.

“You haven’t started with ideas but . . .” I whisper beside him and Bryce twists to look down at me, a question in his eyes.

“I know things haven’t exactly been going to plan for you so I started taking notes after every room we’ve been to—even though it hasn’t been very many—but once I noticed deficiencies or things you seemed to particularly enjoy I made a point of writing them down.

Since then I’ve been researching a few popular themes so you can have a familiar cornerstone, but I’ve also been writing down ideas to bring to you.

I have a whole notebook for when you’re ready.

” It flows out of me in a rush, my eyes never leaving his, and I feel heat creep up my neck.

It isn’t just that he’s good looking—which he is—but it’s the way he doesn’t make me feel like I need to be anything other than myself.

I find the softness creeping out—the vulnerability and hope I don’t let many see.

Bryce gives me the silence to work through my thoughts, the grace to let me speak my mind when I’m ready, and the knowledge that he sees me as a person first, not just a bottom line.

I really shouldn’t be this affected by common decency but the bar has been pretty low, especially recently given Andrew and Keith’s treatment.

Coupled with the blazing shitshow of Riley cheating on me with someone else—also in a relationship, thus blowing up two in one go—it's been hard to believe the best in people. Bryce has made no move, he hasn’t even indicated that he’s interested.

Not that it should matter. I’m trying to stay professional here and he’s clearly not over his ex if he was still wearing a wedding ring almost a year later.

Though there was no denying the curl in my stomach the next time I saw him after asking about it and it being gone.

Despite how much I’m attracted to him, I don’t and I won’t push. Bryce has enough on his plate as it is, he doesn’t need to add firing an employee because they were interested in something that wasn’t reciprocated and is wholly unethical.

“You . . .”

“You told me to pay attention, to take initiative, so I did. I hope you don’t mind.

” I hate how small my voice sounds, how breathless.

I feel like I’m back in school, pushing my way through classes to hit that top spot and be told I’ve done well.

I’ve earned my place. It was so much easier to achieve back then.

“Mind? God, Rachel. You’re a lifesaver. I’ve been so stressed about starting this up, and the admin that came with it that I was unprepared for.

This is wonderful, you’re w—” Bryce catches himself and I hold my breath waiting for what he was about to say but he clears his throat.

“You’re helping me out more than you know and I’m sorry it’s been such a mess.

I know coming from a big company to my .

. . less-than-put-together business is a downgrade. ”

ángel scoffs next to me and I finally tear my gaze away to give him a dirty look.

“What?” ángel defends. “It’s so not a downgrade. They treated her like trash, especially Keith and that two-faced ex-boss of yours.” ángel gestures to Sebastian as if he expects him to back up his claims.

“What did they do?” Sebastian asks with a slight edge to his voice instead and Farren pulls a face that lets me know she never did tell him after I left that night.

“After the debacle with confronting Andrew and his sexist bullshit, they forced her to go out and celebrate the promotion that should have rightfully been hers—I still think you should look into filing some discrimination thing”—ángel pauses his answer to Sebastian to scold me before he carries on with my old colleague—“Keith had his drunk paws all over her in the bar, insulted and hit on her, practically told her that if they messed around it would be fine cause he’s her boss now and nobody needed to know. ”

“ ángel ,” I grit out between my teeth, ungrateful for his airing my dirty laundry in front of my new boss and his friends, and Sebastian for that matter even though that’s not as bad.

He knows it was shitty there. I’m just not pleased that ángel took it upon himself to tell the rest of the table as well.

“What the fuck?” It comes from Gabrielle and the whole table turns to look at the woman who up until now has been fairly reserved unless spoken to directly. Logan barks out a laugh beside her and it kind of dispels the tension for the whole table.

“I could apologize for my language, but I won’t. That’s so not okay.” Gabrielle on the brink of anger does not look like the type of woman you should cross and I will make sure I never do.

“Right?” ángel emphasizes beside me and I give him that elbow to the stomach that I’ve been thinking about way too many times tonight. His breath huffs out of him in a little grunt and I ignore it to look at Bryce.

His expression is shuttered and I don’t know why it bothers me but it does.

“It’s not a downgrade. Not being chained to a desk, getting to see Dulaney and go to escape rooms, and brainstorming themes and how they can be incorporated into a design is not a downgrade.

It’s more creative freedom that I’ve had in years and I’m grateful you hired me.

” I hope he hears the sincerity in my voice.

Even if Lakin-Cole and its employees hadn’t treated me like this I’d still be grateful.

Bryce’s lips are pressed into an unhappy line, the biggest sign of discomfort I’ve seen on him today.

His body is tense, shoulders slightly raised as if he’s holding himself as still as he can without his agitation escaping.

Not that I’ve been watching for that sort of thing since I’ve noticed physical tells are the easiest way to know what he’s thinking—not at all.

I give him a small smile and his lips soften a little, a slight curl at the corner of his mouth alleviating my worry over how this situation has just gone down.

I turn my attention to his friends, wanting to bridge that gap, and not wanting my own to embarrass me again.

“So, since we're on the topic of work. Logan, Bryce tells me you’re in marketing . . .” It’s more awkward than I’d like and ángel mumbles something under his breath about this not being a networking event, but it’s the best I can scrape together when my mind is full of half smiles and sad eyes.

“Yeah, we went into college with a single goal in mind—one that was harebrained and not something we should have planned whole degrees around but here we are. Bryce was going to get the business degree, I would get the marketing degree, and together we’d open a hobby shop.”

“What kind of hobbies?” Farren asks Logan and I could kiss her in gratitude.

“Magic.” Logan and Gabrielle’s lips twitch with their suppressed mirth.

“Like MAGIC: The Gathering?” Farren asks and the two finally let their laughs free. Bryce chuckles softly beside me and I find myself relaxing at the sound.

“No, that would certainly have been easier, more popular, and far more lucrative.” Logan takes a bite of his noodle dish.

“Wait, so, actual magic?” I ask Bryce and his large hand comes up to cover his eyes, a groan escaping him.

“Yes. Actual magic.”

“That’s so fun!” I can’t help the tone of my voice. It's part excitement and part just thinking this is the cutest damn thing I’ve heard.

Bryce peeks out at me between his fingers as if he’s surprised at my reaction and I can only imagine what an interest in magic would have been like as a teenaged boy. Somehow I doubt vapid young people would have thought it was very cool.

“I used to be really into collecting old items, especially art and photographs. For a long time I thought I’d become a restorer but there’s not a lot of money in the arts, and computers seemed to be the ship everyone was boarding, so I went along with it.

Also didn’t help that my mom was getting sick of all my ‘creepy old crap’ lying around and running me out to markets and thrift stores on weekends.

I’ll tell you what though, twelve-year-olds who like antiquing aren’t the height of cool.

” I’m breathless by the time I’m done speaking.

By the end of my uncharacteristic sharing Bryce’s hand has dropped from his face and his mouth is curving up at the image of pre-teen me shouldering old ladies out of the way at antique flea markets.

“So, it’s no wonder you’re constantly enamored with Historic Dulaney and that apartment of yours.

Even though every stair creaks and the water heater works at the speed of a Model-T.

I kind of feel bad now that I didn’t take you to one of the properties I was looking at.

It was a Brownstone that had been in the same family for over a hundred years,” Bryce says.

Something in my expression must betray my hidden disappointment at missing out and fright at being pegged so solidly.

I love my new apartment and the floors that countless generations have walked.

I love wandering Main Street and its offshoots to stare at the buildings that have seen more life than I ever will.

This isn’t something I’ve thought about in over a decade.

I put it away, tucked into its own box to gather dust in the dead end hallways of my memories.

Saved and cataloged right along with people I encountered in that season of my life and the faces I kept searching for in antique tins of photographs that I knew would be impossible to pinpoint—the ones that echoed my own.