Page 16 of Defended By Love

Without any sort of empirical evidence to his suitability, I would just choose Grant.

Except, I’m not sure that’s entirely wise.

Stepping into the shower, I let the hot water run over me, letting my thoughts about the future rise to the surface as the past washes off me and spirals down the drain. There are a number of areas that require my attention, all of which war within me for priority.

First of all, I’ll have to find out what happened to the building. I’m not certain if it’s the most critical item, but it’s the one I can’t seem to dislodge from my brain.

I’m very much so of the belief that distractions should be plucked out immediately if they prove to be persistent. So, first thing after my shower, I’ll make my way to work and see what I can find out.

As soon as it’s decided, I stand a little taller in the shower.

Next, I need to find out a little bit more about Grant. I tell myself that it’s because he’s an unknown person who somehow knew my home address and was also able to get inside without waking me. However, there’s also a part of me that wants to find out more about him.

Reluctantly, I recognize there’s another part of me that wants to see him without the perilous backdrop of having been rescued to see if the spark is still there. Will he still make my heart race? Will I be anything to him other than a conquest and a save?

Discovering a little bit more about my midnight savior will be the second task I tackle. I breathe out a sigh. Already, what’s left of the day is beginning to feel feasible.

Finally, I need to at least start digging into Zagreus Hart. I nearly died for those files. A good thing too, since they would have been destroyed with the building. Usually, we have at least some form of digitally archiving these files, but since one of the branches of Hart Link Incorporated is very literally home to the most advanced technology in the world, my boss, Dominic, thought it was better to keep our mounting evidence paper-based.

I know that if I don’t at least follow one of my leads on Zagreus Hart today, I won’t be able to sleep. I’ve already wasted most of the day, time I won’t get back, and I won’t let him get ahead of this any more than he probably has.

Refreshed and breathing easily for the first time, I step out of the shower, ready to conquer my to-do list. The peace and quiet of my brain is not long lived. Almost immediately, my calm is interrupted by incessant notifications on my phone.

My phone is alight with perhaps the entirety of my family and friends messaging me to see if I’m alright. A few have sent screenshots from the news, which show the building in ruins in the background with people in hazmat suits in the forefront, standing guard of a very locked-down city block.

As much as I itch to get down there and investigate, I know I need to add a new item to the top of my list: let loved ones know I’m alright. Let’s hope it doesn’t take long.

I go through my texts, pointedly ignoring the calls because that’s never something I have the mental energy for anyways, and message everyone variations of the same:

I am alive and very disappointed in the turn of events. I will let you know when I’m able to return to work. Thank you for thinking of me in this difficult time. (thumbs up emoji)

It’s not my best writing, but it is efficient. By the time I get through my parents and siblings, who get a more heart-felt conversation, I just copy and paste the same message to everyone else.

It’s not like they know the difference.

Oddly enough, there are several especially panicked messages from Beth, our office manager. Weird. She should know better than anyone I wouldn’t be in there. I am, after all, the one who begged her to let me go into work if I could get a hold of a gas mask.

I decide to ignore her. She’s probably just wondering if I’m going to be on board for Work from Home Hawaiian T-shirt Day or something.

Whatever. I don’t have the energy for Beth. I barely have the energy to put on more than my signature red lipstick before heading out. It’s the most dressed down I’ve ever been when going to work. Then again, there’s not really a work to go to. Is there?

In the light of day, the scene looks so much worse than it did last night. Now that I’m viewing it from the ground, the pile of rubble seems impossibly large. I can’t even imagine how the city officials would go about removing that much debris. It was once a testament to the future of architecture in Vancouver, and now it’s nothing but a sad historical footnote.

A part of me—a part that I recognize is not stupendously mentally stable—wants to take a piece of it home. I would love a hunk of pillar, or even better a shard from my door. It took me years to get my own office. It was a small, broom closet of an office, but I earned it.

I worked longer and harder than anyone at the firm. I got more wins and brought in more money for both us and the environmental groups that we championed.

It wasn’t an easy path; I had to watch countless people get promoted and move into offices before me, ones that I am certain deserved it less. Still, I made it. Granted, I was helped out by Dominic, one of the senior partners who took me under his wing. When everyone else refused to recognize the work I was doing, he argued my case.

I also kind of want a shard from his door.

I should check Dr. Debbie’s book to see if there’s anything about taking mementos. I definitely don’t want to look it up online. Even to my socially awkward ears that sounds like serial killer trophies stuff.

Except, I have no chance of getting any piece of my true home because the block is abuzz with swarming officials in hazmat suits. I thought that maybe the pictures had focused on one or two people in the outfits and everyone else would be wearing street clothes, but that was wrong. If anything, the pictures underdid the intensity of the site’s quarantine.

Not that I can even get close to the people in the suits.

About two blocks away from the ruins, the Vancouver Police Department (VPD) stand in front of barricades. They’re being swarmed by news reporters and camera crews. Behind them are a crowd of onlookers. All in all, I have hundreds of people between me and the building. Guess there’ll be no sneaking in this time.

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