Page 73 of In This Moment

Leaning forward, he tossed the file he’d been holding onto Graham’s desk, bumping his chin toward it.

“What is this?” Graham reached for the file, opening it. And about fell outta his chair.

He blinked, then blinked again. He couldn’t possibly be seeing what he thought.

“I never wanted The Gazette. I bought it because no one else did, either, and history needed preserving. I’m not firing you, Graham. I’m giving you the newspaper outright. Both you and Rebecca.”

Holy, holy shit.

Graham flipped through the legal pages, which he’d have to read in detail later, but yeah. It appeared Gunner had drafted documents to transfer The Gazette to Graham and Rebecca. All files, contents, physical products, and even the building.

It was dated yesterday, too, meaning his first gut reaction on the sidewalk about her having no clue had been correct. One second. He’d second-guessed himself and her for one second, but it may cost him everything. Owning the newspaper or remaining in Vallantine meant squat without her.

Gunner rose and went to collect his briefcase, then backtracked to Graham’s doorway. “The two of you look those over and get back to me. If you’re in agreement, sign the last page.” He lifted one corner of his mouth in a smirk. “If you can get her to talk to you, that is. Might want to start with, I’m sorry. Flowers wouldn’t hurt. Or begging.”

In a stupor, Graham watched the man’s retreat.

Quickly, he dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward. “Gunner.”

At the door, hand on the knob, the mayor turned.

“Thank you.” Graham didn’t know what else to say. Not in his dreams or expectations had he expected this kind of gesture. It wasn’t only a fresh start, but a leg up. Something to call his own and no one to answer to. “Thank you.”

Chapter Eighteen

Rebecca had no sooner made it to the end of Main Street, and the sky let loose. A torrent of fat, cool raindrops doused her, the road, and everything else within seconds. The whoosh as the storm hit Vallantine was a roar against her ears and heaviness settled in her chest.

Cursing, she cut left toward the library instead of her neighborhood since it was closer. Ankle-deep puddles had already formed since the rain was coming down faster than the ground could absorb. Her shoes squished in grass as she crossed the lawn and bounded the porch steps. Fumbling with the key, she let herself in, shut the door, and…

Screamed. She screamed. A frustrated, angry, gutted bellow because it was all she was capable of doing to vent. Long, loud, and rattling her ribcage, she let it rip until there wasn’t any air left in her lungs.

Damn Graham Roberts, anyway.

Heaving oxygen, she glanced around. The already dismal light in the library from very few windows as a natural source was made darker by the storm. Shadows creating shadows. The tall, vaulted ceiling and empty shelves made the patter of pouring rain echo throughout the space. The electricity had been cut to prepare for renovations, so she couldn’t use the overhead chandelier. For some, it might be a location for an epic horror flick, but to her, it was welcoming. The place was built out of love, and love had kept it standing.

Setting her purse and laptop bag on the center station, she wiped water from her eyes and pulled out her phone. With shaking hands, she roused it from sleep mode, grateful it hadn’t been damaged in her back pocket from rain.

She sent an SOS text to her besties. Emotional Emergency: I’m at the library and fit to be tied. Please bring alcohol and dry clothes.

She paused after sending the text, then swiftly sent another. If you can. If you’re busy, no worries. I’ll deal. Worst case, she’d put her phone in the bag and walk home. Take a hot shower and read until her mood and the storm passed.

She really didn’t want to be home, though. She wasn’t sure the reason, other than Graham would find her there. If he bothered to come look for her, anyway. Judging by how he’d treated her at The Gazette, maybe he wouldn’t.

Clenching her teeth, she stalked the creaky floorboards, trembling with pent up rage. How dare he? How dare he accuse her of vying for his job? Of going behind his back with the mayor? As if she’d ever be that sneaky and underhanded. He’d looked at her as if they’d not shared secrets, their hearts, and a bed. Like he’d not known her at all.

Her phone pinged multiple texts.

Scarlett: Whose ass I gotta kick?

Dorothy: We’ll be there in under 30 mins.

Scarlett: What she said.

She thumbed a thank you, and set her phone down to pace some more.

Twenty-eight minutes later, she was no calmer when her besties rushed through the door, both smart enough to wear raincoats.

Thunder clapped overhead, followed by flashes of lightning. How Rebecca despised storms. Her parents had died during one just like this. Ever since, they made her edgy and uncomfortable, as if she needed that on top of her current mood.

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