Page 53 of Breaking News

I gave it another try. “Today, we’re showing you a peek behind the scenes of…”

That was all I could manage. I couldn’t think about anything besides the deep, throbbing ache in my hips and that fucking smiley face in my medical chart.

“Sorry,” I said again, glancing in Marco’s direction. That apology was for him. I turned back to the camera, needing to say whatever I could to get them to cut away as quickly as possible. “Um. We’re having some technical difficulties on my end. Let’s—let’s see what Bernard can tell us about the weather.”

Bernard had already told us about the weather.

But without hesitation, he hopped back onto his platform in front of the green screen, clicker in hand, and dove right into a repeat of the weekly forecast.

Marco emerged from the control room, pulling his headset down as he crossed the floor toward me. “What’s going on?”

With my hands gripping the edge of the desk and my chest beginning to tighten, I turned to Marco. “I don’t know. I think—I think I need some air. I have to get out of here.”

His expression softened immediately, and he glanced from me to Bernard. “Okay,” he said. “Go. We’ll figure this out.”

Without further hesitation, I sprang up from my stool and darted out of the newsroom, past the camera crew and past Olivia, whose wide-eyed, worried expression broke me just a little bit more. The tears were already pouring out before I even reached the door.

What the fuck had I just done?

How many people just witnessed me fall apart on live television? Would that become the next viral clip to make its rounds?

I covered my face with my hands, hot embarrassment prickling every inch of my skin. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see.I could barely even remain upright, until I ran into something solid.

Strong arms caught me, wrapping around my body like a safety net as I crumbled against a firm chest. I knew it was him without even seeing his face.

Graham didn’t say a word. He just held on tighter, guiding me across the hall with slow, steady steps. I heard the heavy door of the side stage room creak open, and he walked me into the tiny, dark space without ever letting go. The door closed with a loud thud behind me, and I completely unraveled.

The tears flowed just like they had when I didn’t make the varsity volleyball team in high school and locked myself in my bedroom like it was the end of the world. I cried the same way I had when my mom called to say my childhood dog, Mandy, passed away. My tears soaked through the front of Graham’s soft, button-up shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, one hand stroking my hair at the back of my head. In that tiny room at the base of the stairs leading to the old stage, he cradled me against his chest like I might actually fall apart if he let go.

“I can’t keep pretending I’m not breaking,” I said, my voice trembling with every word.

Graham squeezed me a little tighter before pulling back just enough to cradle my face in both hands. His thumbs swept across my damp cheeks, and he gently tucked my hair behind my ears. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

I blinked up at him, knowing I must have looked like an absolute mess, but he stared back at me with a soft, concerned smile, anyway.

“I’ve been watching you hold it together for everyone else. Let me hold you together for a little bit.”

With a sigh, I dropped my forehead to his chest, and he held me close again. When I felt him kiss the top of my head,something inside of me gave; it was like the tension began to drain out of me, at least a little.

He was sharing the weight.

“Thank you,” I said with an exhale. “I just–I just got a note from my doctor that says everything looks good, even though something’sobviouslywrong, and I just had a panic attack on-air. Were you watching?”

Graham smoothed the back of my hair. “Yes. And Jill, I think your body and your brain are telling you that you need to slow down and take some time off.”

“I can’t,” I blurted.

He cleared his throat, pulling away just enough to study my eyes. “Let me rephrase that,” he said, his tone gentle but assertive. “I’m sending you home, and you’re taking tomorrow off.”

“I can’t,” I said again, a little bit of aggression seeping into my tone this time. “There’s no one to replace me.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Graham said with a casual shrug, as if what he was suggesting wasn’t completely crazy. “Maybe it’s time for other people around here to pull more weight. You don’t need to worry about tomorrow’s show.”

“No,” I said, lowering my hands from his chest to his hips. “You don’t know how it works. I can’t just do that. When I take a day off, I have to pre-record segments and coordinate–”

“You don’t have to do any of that. Marco and I will pull something together. I want you to go home, and don’t come back until Thursday.”

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