Page 24 of Deception & Daylight
Stealing myself, I continue, “Rule #4: When the week is up, we part ways. I’ll go wherever the universe takes me, and you’ll forget this ever happened.” A sudden twinge of sadness hits me at the thought of leaving Oak Ridge. Toronto is as close as I ever got to permanence, but when Paige moved out, it no longer felt like the right place for me.
Miles' face turns deadly serious. “Not likely to forget the feel of you in my lap, cupcake.”
Ignoring the sudden desire thrumming through my veins, I soldier on. “Nope. Definitely not that one. I prefer Wildcat if you must use a nickname.”
“Noted.” He mimes making a checkmark on his palm, eliciting an eye roll from me. “Should we plan a date? As painful as you must think it is, if my brother’s gonna buy it, we need to be seen together.”
“That’s fair. What did you have in mind?”
“I work tomorrow, but I could take you to The Ridge for karaoke night on Friday.”
“Isn’t that where you take all the girls?”
“There hasn’t been anyone in a long time, Wildcat.” His eyes dart away, the smallest hint of vulnerability before he secures his mask back in place. “Pick you up at eight,” he says, standing from the porch swing before jogging down the steps. With one last backward glance, Miles is gone and I have a date. Fucking hell. This is a terrible idea.
Chapter 10
Mags
? I hate it here - Taylor Swift
“You come highly recommended, Miss Watson.” Private Detective extraordinaire, Patty McNeely — at least that’s what I’m calling her in my head — taps away at her keyboard, her long nails clickety clacking along the keys. In reality, she’s a shrew. Patty is an older woman in her late sixties. Her grey hair is pulled into a chic low bun, and she’s dressed head to toe in typical business attire.
The stark white walls of the local newspaper office contrast harshly with its warm, inviting exterior. It feels almost sterile in comparison to the red brick facade. It’s all one space with a few desks sparsely spread around the room, none of which appear to be occupied at present.
“You can call me Maggie, or Mags.”
Her expression is pinched as she briefly looks me up and down. “Sure. So it says here you graduated from the University of Toronto with a master’s degree in journalism last spring?”
“That’s right.”
“And what have you been doing since then?” I cringe at the question. What have I been doing for the last year? Writing smutty romance novels and avoiding the job waiting for me at dad’s magazine. I can’t tell you how many times he called to tell me it’s time to put my degree to work. But my heart’s not in it. I don’t want to be tied to his legacy, and merely the thought of being groomed to become the CEO makes my skin itch.
“Well, I’ve written some freelance pieces for a few publications. But after graduation, I really wanted to take some time away.” It’s a lousy cop-out of an excuse, but it’s the best I’ve got.
“It sounds like you might not be entirely committed to the field, Miss Watson.”
Even though she’s not entirely off base, her patronizing tone catches me off guard and my defiant side takes over. “That’s a bit presumptuous of you,Patty.” I spit her name like a curse and I swear she flinches. “I don’t know what credentialsyouhave, but a master’s degree comes with years of study and it is actually quite daunting. I took a break and now I’m back. It’s that simple.”
She eyes me warily before handing me a stack of paperwork. “Read through this. You’ll be required to provide your own laptop. The job is yours on a trial basis until we can find someone more permanent to fill the position.” Fine by me. I’ve never been permanent.
After filling out the onboarding paperwork, I exit onto main street. It’s a beautiful day and the walk back to the inn is short. The scent of fresh blooms dances on the breeze as I stroll past the playground, spotting two familiar figures near the swing set. A beaming 9-year-old Aiden, his fiery red hair so like his dad’s, waves at me from his spot atop the slide causing Liam to follow his gaze. “Hey Mags,” he says with a nod in my direction. With a curt wave, I carryon down the street. While my concealer did a decent job of hiding most of the remaining bruises, I have little doubt the gossip mill has been churning and I’m not ready to face the pitying stares.
When I arrive at the inn, I return to my room and pull open my laptop to twelve new emails. One is from my cover art designer and the rest are from my editor. My release date is looming, and I still have another round of revisions to complete. I haven’t checked in with Victoria since the incident, and her emails grow increasingly concerned as I read through one after the other.
If you’re still alive, it would be super fucking cool if you’d respond to my emails.
-Victoria
P.S. I apologize to the universe if you are, in fact, dead. RIP.
I tap out a few replies, approving the cover art and letting Victoria know I’ll get to the latest edits this week. As confirmation that I am still breathing, I send her a voice chat explaining that I’m in Oak Ridge for the foreseeable future. Even though she and I have grown close over the last eight months, I don’t bring up the assault. I can’t face the inevitable questions that would follow.
Diving into my manuscript seems like the perfect way to escape reality, so I open up my latest draft and review the changes. I chuckle as I read through some of her suggestions. Victoria’s a genius and most of her advice is invaluable, but she also likes to leave hilarious commentary in the margins.
When I get to the part where we discussed adding a sex scene, I freeze. Normally this would come easily, but something feels off. My mind is suddenly a blank canvas, every thought just out of reach. Frustration builds as I reach for the words, a heavy silence descending where the words should flow.
With a resigned sigh, I slam my laptop shut and strip off my clothes, hoping a little self-care might stoke some inspiration for the necessary scene. The minute the shirt leaves my body, the bruises come into focus in the antique mirror above the vanity and I dissolve into tears. For the first time since the attack, violent sobs rack my body and I let them. I let the emotions take over until I can’t feel anymore. Until all that’s left is emptiness.
