Page 67 of Breaking News

Graham took a sip of his beer. “No, she said she had to take care of something at her mom’s.” I didn’t respond right away, wondering if this meant Olivia was finally telling her mom the news. I took a big bite of the lemon square to help me hide my reaction.

Graham moved closer, glancing over his shoulder at the group in the living room, where they were too caught up in a loud debate about the correct pronunciation of “GIF” to pay us any attention.

“How are you feeling tonight?”

“Tired,” I sighed, though it was a relief to know I didn’t have to pretend to be okay. Not in front of Graham. “It’s been a long week.”

“Why don’t you go home?”

I pretended to be offended. “You just got here and you’re already tryin’ to get rid of me? Well, I never.”

A grin slowly stretched across his face, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. He didn’t say a single word.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just, sometimes your southern accent slips out, and it’s…” He glanced over his shoulder, making sure nobody in the other room was paying attention. And then he turned back to me, his voice lower now. “Cute.”

I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn’t, so I took another bite of my lemon bar, staring at Graham’s pretty eyes and the faint touch of gray in his stubble that drove me wild.

Chase picked that exact moment to stroll into the room with his hands in his pockets. He glanced back at Meghan in the recliner like he needed reassurance. Whatever she did, whetherit was a nod, a smile, or a thumbs-up, it seemed to work. Because Chase inhaled, saying, “So. When do I start?”

The lemon bar dropped to the counter, and I let out a squeal, clapping my hands as I bounced toward Chase. Throwing my arms around him in an unreciprocated half-hug, I hollered, “Oh my gosh, co-anchors! It’s going to be great!”

“Or it’ll be a catastrophe,” he mumbled, but he wasalmostsmiling. Graham laughed.

“Look at us,” I said, motioning between Chase and me. “Already sparring. This is going to be magic! I can feel it.”

Graham stepped forward, lifting his fingers from the neck of his beer bottle. “Glad to hear you’re on board. We can connect with Marco on Monday to go over the logistics, and—”

He didn’t get to finish, because Owen appeared in the doorway with a look of concern. “Hey, Graham? Your daughter’s here. Says she needs to talk to you.”

My heart jumped to my throat. Graham set his beer down on the island, shooting me a worried look before he hurried out of the room. I wished there were some gentle way I could prepare him for what he was about to hear, but there was no easing into this.

He didn’t know it yet, but everything was about to change.

chapter twenty-five

Graham

Olivia stood in the Gardners’ foyer with soaked hair, hugging her arms tight against her body.

My heart was already racing. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” she said. “I just need to talk to you.”

I motioned for her to step out onto the porch. She turned around and I followed her out, but she didn’t stop there. She took off through the yard, heading straight to our house. The rain had died down, thankfully, but the yard was soggy and spongy beneath our shoes. I could hardly keep up with Olivia, who offered no explanation as she led me all the way up our porch steps and through the front door.

She eyed Caleb in the den, who was still playing Mario Party on his Switch. “Let’s talk upstairs so he doesn’t eavesdrop,” she said, jogging up the stairs.

I hesitated at the bottom of the staircase. What the hell was this about?

When we finally reached her room, I was ready to demand answers. Olivia was pale, drenched, and out of breath, and shelowered herself to her bed, where she leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands.

“Liv. What’s the matter?” I asked, gently closing her door behind me. For some reason, I feared she was about to tell me she was quitting the internship program to go on a summer road trip with Richie. Or maybe Richie was in trouble, sitting in the local jail for weed possession or stealing traffic cones. Maybe both.

I sat beside Olivia, pushing aside the giant, squishy owl she’d kept on her bed since four Easters ago. I placed my hand on her lower back, about to ask her once again to tell me what was wrong, but she straightened her body and turned toward me, pulling her hair away from her eyes.

“I’m just going to… say it. Okay?”

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