Page 52 of Breaking News

I slid into the driver’s seat of my car and didn’t move. Didn’t even start it. I felt a trickle of sweat slide down the back of my neck, but I ignored it, slumping over my steering wheel. What was a little more discomfort?

I wish Graham were holding me right now.

That thought slammed into me without warning, and I lifted my head from the hot steering wheel, blinking away the tears stinging my eyes.

Why had my mind jumped to Graham so quickly?

Two weeks ago, I might have thought rolling around between the sheets with Xander was the cure for everything—though it never really was. There wasn’t an inch of my body that craved his touch now.

Intimacy with Graham somehow felt a little… deeper. Safer. And we’d only spent one night together.

I held my arms tight against my body, remembering what it felt like to wake up wrapped around Graham’s body. I knew an embrace from him wouldn’t cure me, but it would at least fix some of my inside wounds.

***

“A Woodvale woman is going viral this week after a security camera caught a goose chasing her down her driveway, causing her to trip and let go of a gender reveal balloon.”

I pressed my lips into a smile, forcing out a little laugh as my eyes followed the words on the teleprompter. That Tuesday morning, the pain was still lingering, and so was the weight of everything left unanswered after that doctor appointment.

But I had a show to get through.

“The video, seen here, has racked up more than two million views since it was uploaded Saturday morning.”

There was no co-anchor beside me to spar with, so the awkward laughter, forced smiles, and fake amusement were all on me. It was getting harder to pretend these stories were funny and cute when pain radiated down my hips and legs. Even the lights felt more aggressive than usual, making my head pound every second my eyes were open. So when it was time to cut to commercial, I breathed an audible, shaky sigh of relief, slumping forward on my stool. It was the first time all morning I didn’t have to hold myself upright like a damn puppet.

“You good?” Clint, one of the camera operators asked, but someone else in the studio called his name, pulling his attention away from me before I could even answer. I was going to lie and say I was fine, anyway.

For a moment, I was distracted by the email notification on my phone. I didn’t always make a habit of keeping my phone on the news desk—hidden from viewers’ sight, of course—but I was awaiting my bloodwork results. I tapped the alert, half-expecting it to be a coupon code from a local boutique or a reminder about half-off appetizers from Poppy’s.

My stomach dropped when I saw the words: LAB RESULTS AVAILABLE.

That was fast. Too fast. I wasn’t ready. In a matter of seconds, I logged into the medical chart app and let the results load, onlyfor my stomach to sink all over again with a strange mix of relief and dread.

On the plus side, there were no red flags to indicate any of my levels were too low or too high.

But that meant that everything looked normal, and I was right back at square one without a plan or a single answer. I glanced over at Marco in the control room before reading the comment Dr. Boyd left beneath the results.

Everything looks good! :)

Right. Good.

No, this was worse. Because if my bloodwork was fine, what the hell was wrong with me? I would always be in pain, wouldn’t I?

And that fucking smiley face was patronizing as hell.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and flipped my phone over before adjusting my hair. It had to be just about go time. Sure enough, Marco began counting down in my ear. “Five, four, three, two, one. Aaaaand we’re live. Go, Jill.”

The words on the teleprompter blurred.

And all around me, everyone was frozen, like they were waiting for something. I took two sharp, deep breaths, realizing a few seconds later everyone was waiting on me to begin. I’d missed my cue. Tuned it out. “Welcome back, folks. Let’s get you caught up on a few more local stories. Today, we’re…”

I stopped.

The next sound that came out of my mouth was some kind of awkward hybrid between a squeak and a forced laugh. “I’m sorry,” I said, looking down at the desk, needing a total reset. I blinked hard like that would somehow help, but that only made a few tears come to the surface.

Oh, God. This was happening. My throat felt scratchy, and my entire body trembled beyond my control.

Focus. You’re Jillian Fucking Taylor.

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