Split(67)

I suck in a breath before heading inside, steeling myself mentally and emotionally before I set eyes on Shyann.

My gut flutters, proving my preparation pointless.

She has a cell phone pressed to her ear and holds up one finger to me.

I resist the urge to stare too long at her silky hair and full lips and instead drop down into the chair opposite her.

“I heard what you said, but I don’t need your help.” She sounds frustrated. Annoyed. “Just because you don’t see the point of Oregon doesn’t mean it’s not a smart career move.” She huffs out a breath and her chair squeaks. “Of course I researched it. It’s not like I just c-closed my eyes and pointed and thought, ‘Oh h-hey, I’ll move to Oregon!’” She slumps in on herself a little.

She’s moving? To Oregon? That excited fluttering in my gut turns to solid weight, crushing me with disappointment.

“Trevor, please, spare me the lecture on . . . Yeah, I know. Fine. I’ll talk to you later.” She doesn’t wait for whoever is on the other line to even say goodbye before tossing her phone across her desk.

Trevor? Ex-coworker Trevor?

“Hey, Lucas.” Her eyes are bright, smile perky, and all hint of irritation wiped clean. I relax a little. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Oh, um . . .” I do a quick inventory. “Tired, a little headache. Other than that I’m okay.”

“Good.” She leans forward, her forearms resting on the desk, sending a cascade of ebony hair down her chest. “Remember anything?”

“No. But you’re still speaking to me, so I’m guessing things were okay?” I frown and shake my head. “I was, I don’t know, kinda hoping you could fill me in?”

When I woke up, I scented a musky perfume on my sweatshirt. I’m hoping Gage didn’t take advantage of a woman with Shyann around. Hope he’d respect my feelings for her enough to keep himself under control.

“You and Cody went to Pistol Pete’s.”

I remember that.

“Sam, the woman Gage hooked up with before . . .”

I nod.

“She came back for more. She was getting pretty forceful. I told her to back off. She wouldn’t . . .”

All sounds familiar.

“So Gage stepped in to help out.” She flashes a hesitant smile.

“Did I . . . Did anyone get hurt?”

“No. Unless you mean ego. In that case, yes.”

My chin drops to my chest. “Who—”

“Don’t worry, Lucas. Most important thing right now is that you’re safe, Gage is safe, and I’m still the only one aware of your secret.”

“And us?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

I exhale long and hard, relief calming my heart rate and my tense muscles. “Thank you. So, you still talk to your ex-coworker?” I suck in a breath at my own accusatory tone.

She drops back with a sigh. “Trevor was . . .” She groans and rubs her forehead. “How can I explain this without it making me sound bad?”

“Can’t be worse than what you know about me.”

“Trevor and I . . . he was kinda—”

“Your boyfriend.” My stomach twists and my fists clench.

Her clear blue gaze meets mine. “No, but . . . kinda. We hung out off and on but it wasn’t anything serious.”

“And now?” It’s none of my business, but I can’t keep myself from wanting to know.

She chews her lip. “Hmm . . . now he still feels like he can tell me what to do even though I don’t work under him anymore.”

“He was your boss?”

“No, but he was my producer. I . . . uh . . . I worked in broadcast news for, like, a second before coming back to Payson. Trevor and I met in school. We had similar goals, so naturally we gravitated to each other, but we never had an emotional connection, if that makes sense.”

I blink, thrown by the new information. “You were a reporter?”

“I wanted to be.” She tilts her head, studying me, and I force a casual expression, trying not to give away my building anxiety.

Her probing questions, inquisitive eyes, of course she’s a reporter. Is it possible she knows about me? It was years ago; she would’ve been in grade school at the time, but the story made national news. No, she was too young. Besides, if she did know, she’d know better than to be alone with me.

“If you wanted to be a reporter, why are you here, working for your dad?” She’s the most beautiful and driven woman I’ve ever known, and there’s no way she couldn’t be a reporter if that’s what she wanted.

“I got let go. Stupid, really. I let my emotions cloud my judgment. Now I’m no longer hirable in the industry.” She shakes her head and waves me off with a sad smile. “Anyway, enough about—”

“You’re moving to Oregon?”

The air between us grows tense and she stares for a few beats before breaking eye contact to fidget with a pen. “Um . . . that was the plan.”

“Was . . .?”

Her gaze swings to mine and for the first time since I’ve known her she seems unsure. She wrings her hands together. “I don’t know what I’m going to do now.”

I stare silently, praying for the courage to ask what she means by “now.” Is it even possible to dream she’d stay in town? My heart pounds furiously in my chest when I realize I can’t willingly let her go. “Stay.”