Corbyn felt himself stiffen at her words, the casual way she implied she might still leave landing like a physical blow. The thought of her actually going and him having to return to his empty study sent a wave of something close to panic through him.
“I wouldn’t blame you,” he said, clearing his throat to try to eliminate the roughness. “Probably show good judgment on your part, actually. But I’m hoping you won’t. I…” he started, then caught himself. “The book needs you.”
The slip was slight, but in the quiet of the hillside, it hung between them. When he looked over at her, she was studying him with that quiet, unyielding intensity that made it difficult to focus.
“The book shouldn’t be collateral damage to whatever the hell happened today,” she said firmly. “It has too much potential.”
Corbyn noticed how she’d shifted the focus from herself to the book. It was subtle. She wasn’t asking for validation, but there was something in her measured response that suggested she wanted more than just professional acknowledgment.
“My writing… it’s better with you there,” he confessed, the admission coming easier than he expected. “Your perspective helps.”
She nodded once, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth before she looked away, back toward the valley below.
“We make a good team when you’re not throwing me out of rooms.”
The gentle jab held no malice, just a reminder that they still had ground to cover in their working relationship.
“May I?” Corbyn gestured to the empty space beside her on the bench.
Sadie hesitated, then slid over slightly, making room. The wooden slats creaked as he lowered himself down, and the soreness in his body from the climb became more pronounced.Riley flopped at their feet with a contented sigh, clearly pleased that his humans seemed to have resolved some of the tension.
“I used to come up here as a kid,” Corbyn said softly, surprising himself by offering her a personal detail. “To read. To think.”
Sadie glanced at him, curiosity evident in her expression.
“It’s beautiful. Peaceful.”
“It was. Is,” he corrected and then paused, choosing his words carefully. “I haven’t been up here since before the accident.”
The admission hung between them, like a peace offering. Sadie seemed to understand its significance, her expression softening slightly.
“Why today?” she asked quietly.
Corbyn looked down at his hands, his right one normal, the left a mess of scars with limited mobility. The truth was too raw, too close to the surface.Because your notes push me harder than I push myself. Because in two weeks, you’ve seen through the flaws I’ve been blind to for months. Because with you challenging my work, I finally feel like a writer again instead of just a has-been hiding from the world.
“Motivation,” he said simply, not ready to examine any of the thoughts racing through his mind too closely. “This morning,” he continued, changing course, “at the pool… I handled it badly.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “I’m not used to… I could have done better.”
Sadie was quiet for a moment before she replied, “I should have called out before coming down the stairs. Edie sent me to tell you lunch was ready, but I should have announced myself.”
“No.” The word came out sharper than he intended as he looked over at her. “It wasn’t your fault. I…” He broke off again, the right words elusive. “I’m not used to being seen like that. Without warning.”
“You made a lot of assumptions at the pool. I wasn’t invading your privacy, nor was I guilty of any of your other accusations.” Her voice was steady, and she held his gaze, unflinching. “You don’t get to decide what I think or feel, Corbyn.”
“I know.” Corbyn’s hand clenched against his thigh, the fabric of his trousers rough under his palm. “I’m…” He paused, his gaze briefly meeting hers before sliding away. “I’m trying to do better. I want to.”
The words were difficult for him to say. It was as close to an apology as he could manage at the moment, and he hoped she would understand the true meaning behind it.
Sadie nodded slowly, seeming to accept the olive branch for what it was, much to his relief.
“Where do we go from here?” she asked, her voice gentle enough that he had to look back at her.
“Back to work,” he said, his voice steadier now. “If you’re willing.”
He held his breath as he waited for her answer. Even with his attempt to smooth things over, she could still decide to leave and return home. The very thought caused a pit to form in his stomach.
“I am,” she told him hesitantly before adding, “but things need to be different.”
He tensed slightly, wary, and asked, “Different how?”
