Turning to face him fully, she explained, “I am your partner in this, not your servant. I was sent here because I’m good at what I do, and because I’ll push you to be your best self.” Her voice remained firm as she continued, “I’ve been patient and understanding, more so than most would be, but even I have my limits, Corbyn. No more shutting me out when the work gets difficult. No more ordering me to leave when I challenge you or things get too personal for your comfort. I deserve better than that, and so does this book.”
Partners. The word landed heavily. He’d worked alone for so long, even before the accident, and collaboration had never been his strength. Letting someone else into his creative process felt like standing naked in a crowded room. But she was right. The book deserved better. And if he was honest with himself, so did she.
“Agreed,” he said finally, the word a commitment he wasn’t entirely sure he could keep, but one he would try to honor.
A drop of rain landed on the bench between them, then another. The clouds that had been threatening rain all afternoon were finally making good on their promise. Riley stood, shaking himself preemptively.
“We should head back,” Sadie said, tucking her notebook into her bag and pulling on her gloves, “before it really starts coming down.”
Corbyn nodded, rising from the bench with a wince he couldn’t quite hide.
“I, ah, drove to the inn first,” Corbyn said, aware of how the admission revealed more than he’d intended. “My car’s still there.”
Sadie’s eyebrows lifted slightly, and he saw a flicker of surprise crossing her face before she schooled her expression.
“I’m parked at the foot of the trail,” she told him, her voice neutral despite the small smile threatening at the corners of her mouth. “I can give you a lift back to the Roaring Stag.”
They started down the path together, Corbyn setting a careful pace. The raindrops became more insistent, pattering against the leaves and their jackets. Riley trotted ahead, occasionally looking back to ensure they were following.
“I read your notes on chapter eleven last night,” Corbyn said as they walked, needing to reestablish their professional boundaries, to bring them back to safer territory. “Your pointabout the arson scene having too much exposition… you were right.”
Sadie glanced at him, the corners of her mouth tugging up ever so slightly. “I thought it slowed the pacing too much.”
“It did. I’ve been reworking it. Showing more through Shaw’s reactions, less through the technical details.”
“That sounds promising,” she said. “I’d like to see it when you’re ready.”
It wasn’t long before they reached the end of the trail. Corbyn found himself chuckling along with Sadie as they watched Riley try to squeeze his bulk into the back seat of her tiny rental car. When they pulled into the Roaring Stag’s parking lot, it felt as if they were truly back on solid ground once more.
“I meant what I said,” Corbyn found himself saying as she parked next to his rarely used Range Rover. “The book is better because of your input.”
Sadie’s eyes found his, those stormy orbs of hers studying his face for a moment before she replied, “Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.”
For a moment, their eyes locked, and he was very aware of how close they were in the confines of the small car. From here, he could smell the citrusy scent of her shampoo, something he hadn’t admitted to himself that he had noticed until now. He could also see the details he had missed: the freckles across her nose, the flecks of green in her eyes.
His musings were interrupted when Riley wedged his head between them, rewarding them both with sloppy kisses. Groaning, Corbyn pushed him away, muttering about the dog not having any manners.
“So,” Sadie laughed, bringing his attention back to the present, “tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock?”
“Nine,” Corbyn agreed. He made no move to exit the car though, something keeping him rooted to the spot. He knewthere was more to say. Words that might bridge the remaining distance between them. Words about trust, vulnerability, and the fear of being seen. But they wouldn’t come, not yet.
Instead, he said, “Bring your red pen. Chapter fourteen needs work.”
A smile ghosted across Sadie’s lips, understanding what he couldn’t quite express.
“I figured it might. The mayor’s wife scene again?”
“Among other things,” he admitted, his hand reaching for the door handle. “Riley and I will see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there,” she promised, and for the first time that day, Corbyn felt something in his chest loosen. A knot of tension unwinding, and a feeling settling over him that everything might actually be okay.
February 21, 2025
-Sadie-
The crunch of gravel under the rental car’s tires was the only sound as Sadie approached Corbyn’s estate. For just over two weeks, this drive had filled her with a sense of dread as she prepared herself for the inevitable clash of wills. Today, that familiar knot of tension had loosened, replaced by something that caused a fluttering in her chest whenever she remembered their conversation on the ridge.
The book needs you.
