The tears come fast, no warning. Laurel rounds the desk, kneeling in front of me.
“I don’t know. Things are happening. And I don’t know which way is up, or down. And God, I miss her,” I choke out. “She’d know which direction to point me. She believed I’d make it. Even when I didn’t.”
Laurel’s voice is steady. Fierce. “She was good at direction. And you, Rorie…you are the storm and the strategist. The fire and the finesse. You belong here because you built your place. With talent. With grace. With heart.”
Nodding, I blink hard, but the tears flood out anyway.
“She’d be proud of you,” Laurel adds, softer now. “But more than that, she’d want you to be proud of yourself.”
Nodding, I yank a few tissues from her desk.
“And I love that you feel alive with whatever this tiny something is with Nolan. You deserve that. Forget about the others.”
“It’s not professional,” I reply. “You said yourself, things get messy when competition is involved.”
“It can,” she says. “When it isn’t handled with care. But you’re also two grown ass adults. Be mature. And trust the right things will work themselves out.”
I swallow hard. “It’s just…everything with Nolan is this… avalanche. Like I was standing on solid ground and then—boom—buried.”
“Then dig out,” Laurel says, like it’s simple. Like it’s survival, not surrender.
I laugh, watery and small. “I just keep wondering if this—him and me—maybe it’s not the best idea. I think we’re happening at the wrong time.”
Laurel leans back, studying me the way only she can. Measuring. Waiting. “I guess you just need to ask yourself one question?”
I meet her gaze, feeling my chest rise, then fall. “What’s that?”
“Is he worth is?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you better figure that out,” she says. “Without losing yourself.”
Her words sink in. Not like a knife. More like a slow tide—pulling at everything I’ve been trying to hold in place.
The truth is…I’ve lost myself before. Bent too far. Bit down on every sharp edge just to make someone else more comfortable. I swore I wouldn’t do it again. So maybe the question isn’tjustwhether he’s worth it. Maybe it’s whether I can pursue something with him without leaving pieces of myself behind.
And if I can’t—well, that’s a problem I’ll need to conquer. Alone.
I stand.
Laurel rises too, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her skirt. “One more thing.” Her voice is casual, but her eyes make me freeze. “I got an email today. From Bone Dust.”
My breath catches. “And?”
She lifts a shoulder, playing it off but her smile gives her away. “It seems Big Stream pulled out of the running.” She lets that hang for a beat, then adds, “They’re going with us.”
It takes me a second to process. Another second to find my voice.
“Why?”
Laurel’s smile turns knowing. Soft in a way she doesn’t often let anyone see. “Apparently, Nolan Rhodes sent them an email.” She meets my eyes and drops the final blow like it costs her nothing. “Stating you were the better choice.”
I stare at her.
Rattled.
Winning feels good. Winning becausehestepped back? Not so much.
