Page 27 of Imogen

I tilt my head, wondering how I can explain this without making them sound like crazy ward escapees. “They are… worldly.”

“I can’t wait to meet them,” he gushes, bouncing in his chair. “Please tell me I get to meet them.”

“I’ll have to get you to sign a medical waiver,” I joke. “Not many can handle them.”

“Who are they?” Laura asks.

“The Carters.”

She gulps. “Not a relation to Max Carter, I hope.”

“He’s my uncle,” I reveal, watching the colour drain from her cheeks. “Are you okay?”

“He coached my nephew’s football team. For a night. It was, um… I still have scars,” she whispers.

Shit!

“He’s a very distant uncle,” I lie. “Honestly, he’s harmless.”

“Let me tell you, I’m not a runner. Exercise and I don’t mix. If I can avoid taking the stairs, I will. But he had me running around the field like my life depended on it. I thought he was going to attack me, and everyone was too scared to get involved.”

I grimace. “By any chance, did you have food?”

“Yes. I had a double whopper burger. Though, by the time he tackled me to the floor, it was just a bun.”

“He’s really sensitive about food.”

“I’ll say.”

“I really need to meet your family,” George states in awe.

Laura shakes her head, the colour returning to her cheeks. “Do you have the disc? I need to go check on my reports. I left them running.”

I glance around once more at my desk. The issue I’m having is that the work is piled up everywhere and I can’t remember where I put it last. “Can I bring it to you by the end of the day? I’ll look through this once lunch is over.”

“Of course. I’ll let you finish your meal.”

Once the door clicks behind her, I turn to George, feeling his stare on me. “What?”

“You need to tell me more about your family. You’ve been holding back.”

At his command, I answer, telling him all the stories about what we’ve gotten up to over the years. By the time lunch is over, I’ve invited him to our next family getaway.

*** *** ***

By the end of my shift, I’m a sweaty mess. The disc Laura had been looking for is nowhere to be found. I’ve emptied my desk. I’ve flipped through books one page at a time and turned the entire room upside down. My desk, which usually sits fairly centre in the room, is now pushed to the side—just in case it had fallen underneath. But Sanctuary is gone, and my only resort now is to go and start asking people if they have it. The second I do that, word will get around the office like a game of Chinese whispers and they will know it was me who lost it.

Tears of frustration threaten to fall. I love this job. I love it more than I expected to. And I’ve done one of the two things they asked me not to. Lost the damn disc.

I brush my hair out of my face, getting a whiff of the odour I’ve collected from sweating so damn much.

“I’m going to get fired,” I whimper.

The handle to my office door pushes down, and my heart races in a panic as I move to the door. Before I can lock it, George steps inside, his eyes wide when I dive for the door, closing it behind him.

“Um, it was just your family with crazy tendencies, right?”

I pull at my hair. “George, I’m in so much trouble.”

---