Page 54 of Control

“I don’t. This isn’t that, though. This is me wanting to discuss you. I want to know about where you see yourself in six months, in a year, when it comes to the work you’re doing. Do you intend to still be at the station, or do you want to be out on your own?”

Her expression changed, her features softening in a way I’d seen once or twice before. I didn’t know for sure what it meant, but I always like the way it made me feel.

“I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t been on my mind more ever since you brought your camera over and gave me the chance to practice,” she started, setting her fork down on her nearly empty plate. “I don’t know. It’s a nice idea, and I think I could confidently say it’s the dream. There’s just a bit of fear there.”

I brushed my fingers over her knuckles. “What do you mean? What are you afraid of?”

“Well, what if I fail? I’ve been smart about my money in the years I’ve been working, but I can’t be foolish now. I need to do something that’s going to make me money.”

I got what she was saying, and I believed it was a legitimate fear. Alana was so talented, though. I didn’t think it was possible she’d fail. “I understand, but don’t you think what you’re doing right now is important?”

She almost seemed offended that I’d asked such a question. “Of course, I do. Why else would I be risking my life to do it?”

I squeezed her hand again to show some solidarity with her. “I already knew that, Alana. It was more of a rhetorical question, but I think it proves my point. You’re doing what you believe is important now. When you return to the station, you have to do what they feel is important.”

Frustration and a hint of sadness washed over her. “I think that’s the thing that upsets me the most. I don’t get a say. I don’t get to choose what stories I cover, what I believe will make the most impact. It’s not always bad, and I won’t pretend I haven’t had the opportunity to cover some incredible stories, but I would love the freedom to choose. And Dale has made it clear that’s not an option.”

“Going out on your own will give you full control,” I reasoned.

She dropped her gaze to where my hand was holding hers and placed her other hand on top of it. Her fingertips stroked lightly over my skin. “I’ve thought a lot about what I’m doing right now. I feel so alive, Ty. Doing this, feeling like the work I’m doing has the potential to make a difference, it feels so worth it.” Her fingers stopped moving, her palm flattening against the back of my hand, so it was now cocooned between both of hers. Focusing her attention on my face again, she shared, “I won’t stop digging into this story until I get answers. Whether that’s three days, three months, or three years. And I keep asking myself what happens when I figure it out. Unless I’m going to convince Rita to let me hijack a segment on the news, I won’t be able to get it out that way. Of course, it’s such a big story, she might be willing to take the risk.”

“But then the station gets the credit for breaking a story that you worked your tail off for without their support.”

Her shoulders fell, the weight of that disappointing reality falling heavily on her shoulders. “I’ve thought about that more times than I care to admit.”

I wished I could snap my fingers and give her the reassurances she needed to know she wouldn’t fail. Alana was so passionate about the work she did, I truly believed it was impossible for her not to be successful. “You deserve to reap the benefits of your hard work,” I told her. “Nobody else. And your drive and determination to focus on finding the truth and uncovering secrets is something people will admire and respect. They’ll know the passion you have, because it’ll shine through in every story you cover.”

The sense of disappointment she’d been feeling seemed to vanish as the corners of her mouth curved up into a small smile. “If nothing else, it’s safe to say you’re good for my ego.”

“You’re that good, Alana. I’m not exaggerating.”

Before she could respond, our server returned to our table, leaving us with no choice but to separate our hands. “Okay, I’ve got your meals here for you.”

Once we had our food and were left alone again, Alana said, “Alright. As much as I have enjoyed the wild praise and your vote of confidence, I think we’ve done enough talking about me. Let’s talk about you for a while.”

“But I like talking about you.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “You’re not being fair.”

The mere possibility of her being disappointed was enough to have me changing my tune. “Okay, fine. What do you want to know?”

She considered her question for a moment. “Well, you said you like talking about me. I guess I’m wondering, if you weren’t with me right now, if you weren’t spending nearly every day with me, who do you feel like you talk to the most?”

“You dig deep, don’t you?”

Alana batted her eyelashes at me. “What can I say? Some things are impossible to escape. I feel like this is an important question.”

“With an answer that’s arguably more important,” I pointed out. “I guess the best answer to give is to tell you that it’s my family I talk to most, but I’m not sure that’s the honest one. It’s not that I’m not close with them or that I hide things from them. It’s merely that I don’t see them as often as I see my coworkers, some of whom are my closest friends.”

“Will you tell me about them? About your coworker friends.”

I didn’t know why I’d given Alana a tough time about wanting to change the topic of conversation to me. It felt good to have someone interested in hearing what I had to say, about what was important in my life.

Sure, I might have preferred to hear more about her, but it was nice that she balanced things out by demanding to know more about me. I already knew from experience that having someone who wasn’t interested in aspects of my life outside of her would only result in heartbreak down the road.

I couldn’t say what was happening here or where we’d wind up, but at least I could find comfort in knowing we were building a solid foundation on both sides.

“So, how did it feel?”

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