Page 72 of In This Moment

Graham nodded once. He’d heard that much from the mayor’s secretary. What he hadn’t heard were the words straight from the horse’s mouth. How petty, immature, and underhanded.

And Rebecca? They’d been intimate. Were co-workers and, he’d thought, friends. Neighbors. Lovers. Her betrayal cut deeper than his former editor not having his back, than his career abruptly being cut short, or than the woman he’d been dating at the time walking out on him instead of offering support.

Attempting to swallow, he glared at Rebecca, keeping his voice deathly low. “And what did you say?”

It took point five seconds to realize his mistake.

Centimeter by centimeter, she straightened to a position so erect, it made his spine hurt. Her expression flatlined into an unrecognizable version of the warm, affectionate woman he’d come to know over the past few months. Lips thinned, gorgeous blue eyes narrowed, she shook her head in blatant disbelief and unadulterated rage.

Her initial reaction to Gunner’s blanketed admission hadn’t been guilt, as Graham had assumed. It had been worry etched in her features and concern about Graham or his job, not because she’d had remorse for stabbing him in the back. He’d been too stunned and angry to notice or correctly read her cues.

But it was too late. The damage had already been done with his accusation wrapped around a question, and spoken to her in a tone where nothing she could say would be believed.

He was a fucking idiot.

“Rebecca…”

She lifted her palm, halting anything he might’ve spouted.

Closing her laptop, she shoved it in her bag, grabbed her purse, and wove around her desk. She paused a mere moment to pin those big blue saucers on him, shrouded in ice. “Bless your heart.”

As the door closed behind her with a quiet click, it may as well have been a resounding thud to him. An urgent need to go after her battled with the flagrant desire to set the record straight to his boss. None of this was okay. Not one damn thing.

He pinched his eyes shut, sighing.

“She said, if he goes, I go. If he stays, I stay.”

Opening his eyes, Graham stared at Gunner, debating who he should punch first, his boss or his own face. Neither would solve anything or take back the past five minutes.

The man shrugged, as if he’d said the grass was green. “In case you were wondering, that was the answer she gave me about taking over the paper.”

Graham had hit his limit. Stick a fork in him. “I gave you everything. All my experience, my time, my knowledge. Granted, you took a chance on hiring me, and I appreciate that more than you know, but I moved a thousand miles to accept this position. I utilized what we had, sought advice and proper help, and rebuilt this paper. Sales and subscriptions are up. Content is precisely what the town asked for and more. Advertising is a continuous steady stream. I stay late and show up early every single day.”

Letting out a gale force wind, he slapped his palms to his thighs. “And you repay me by going behind my back to the woman I’m romantically involved with, whom I hired, to offer her my position without bothering to show me the respect I deserve or fire me to my face. Hell, I can’t blame you for the decision. She’s sharp as a tack and can do the job better. She deserves the promotion. None of my success would be possible without her. But, damn. I gave you everything I had left in me, Gunner.”

“Now, son. Not once did I say anyone was getting fired.”

Splitting hairs. Graham had ejected verbal diarrhea, and the man was splitting hairs.

He grabbed the paper bag of sandwiches and strode to his office. His appetite was gone. Rebecca was gone. His job was gone. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

When he was nine years old, he’d fleetingly wanted to be an astronaut. Perhaps NASA was hiring.

Tossing the bag in the fridge, he slammed the door shut.

Gunner had followed him and leaned against the doorway, hands shoved in his pants pockets. “I didn’t go behind your back, either.”

Exhausted, his give-a-shit gone, Graham dropped in his chair and kicked his feet up on the desk, crossing his ankles. “The last nerve I have left is on fire, Mayor.”

A huffed laugh, and Gunner shoved off the frame. He went to Rebecca’s desk, where he pulled a file out of a briefcase on the floor, and returned to Graham’s office, easing into one of the chairs across from him.

“I had my reservations about you.” Gunner cleared his throat. “You had experience, but I didn’t know if you’d make a good fit or could pull off the job having not been a Vallantine native. Sometimes, a person’s gotta hit rock bottom before they can climb out again. That’s where you were when I offered you the position. Rock bottom, son. You started to claw out when you hired our Rebecca.”

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his brow, and repocketed it once more. “My mind was set on you that evening a couple weeks ago when I visited to check on things. You didn’t take credit for her work when I asked about the changes. Know what else you didn’t do? You didn’t ignore her suggestions or brush her aside. The big city chewed up our girl and spit her back out again, but instead of adding to her beating, you picked her up. That’s the measure of a good man.”

Shit. At a loss, and suddenly, stupidly emotional, Graham swiped a hand over his face. Throat tight, chest pinched, he stared at the ceiling, trying to gain composure.

“She keeps things close to the vest unless someone’s lucky enough to earn her trust. I attribute that to her folks’ passing while she was so young.” Gunner shifted in the chair. “I wanted her alone to poke at her without you lurking. That’s why I came today, and she answered exactly how I figured.”

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