He waved off her words. The damage they’d done to each other back then couldn’t be undone with an apology. But he did have a job to do, and it was in his power to make sure BUILD would be considered for the grant money. If he did, it would be to help those kids, not Faith.
He flexed his jaw. “Email me what you’re missing. I’ll add it to your application.”
“Really?” she breathed, her tense shoulders relaxing.
His hand flew up, palm out. “I’m just the grant manager. The board of directors has the final say on recipients.”
He clung to that reminder as she fished her laptop out of her bag and set it on the edge of his desk, flashing him a smile so full of sunshine that the warmth traveled all the way down his spine. But he forced himself to ignore it, adopting the stony expression that worked wonders to keep wayward volunteers in line on job sites. She got the hint, her eyes snapping down to her laptop screen.
“Sorry. Um. What’s your email?”
He rattled it off, already doubting the wisdom of this whole situation. Too late though; her computer whooshed as it sent, and his dinged as it received. She was the one who broke the silence.
“Thank you so much,” she began. “I can’t tell you—”
“Save it.” His tone was back to just shy of hostile, but he had to get her out of his office. This was too much. Too dangerous. “I’ll make sure your application goes into the pile, but that’s it. We’re not friends, Faith. We’re not anything. You need to remember that.”
Her chin snapped back, and it was a beat before she spoke again.
“Like I ever forgot.” She shoved her laptop into her bag. “Thanks for this anyway.”
With that, she walked out.
FIVE
“I still can’t believe it. What kind of monster is fine with me starving to death?”
Faith slammed the laundry basket onto the bed with a huff, and Thea scooted back against the headboard to make room for the explosion of clean clothes about to come. “You’re not going to starve to death.”
“Well, Leo doesn’t know that,” Faith grumbled.
“You’re right. He doesn’t know anything about you anymore.” Thea recrossed her legs and settled the bowl of popcorn back in her lap. “And besides, you said the board of whatevers are the ones who decided.”
When she’d received the rejection email that afternoon, she’d called Thea for emotional support. And Thea, who was sleeping with the boss, left Murdoch Construction early to come console her with popcorn and company.
Not that Faith was a ball of sunshine to be around right now. She scooped up an armful of bras and underwear and dumped them into the top dresser drawer, then slumped against it, her back to Thea. It gave her a moment to collect herself. Leo was a stranger to her now, and he’d turned down her grant application. Well, his board did. So now what?
She didn’t have an answer to that question, and that realization had her struggling to pull breath into her lungs.
Kind. Calm. Collected.
She exhaled slowly to her mantra, and by the time she turned back around, she’d forced a smile onto her face.
“Yes, well. Their loss.”
She was aiming for breezy, but she just sounded flattened, which was how she’d felt since she’d gotten the email two hours ago. At least it hadn’t been from Leo; the brief message that had crushed the remaining chance for the survival of BUILD had been from Carlisle, the self-important old dude who’d been so openly judgmental of her at Digham HQ.
“It is,” Thea declared, tossing a piece of popcorn at her that she dodged.
If she squinted a little, she could almost pretend she and her bestie were gossiping about their evil calculus teacher and who hadn’t been asked to prom yet. But no, they were two grown-ass ladies talking about grown-ass lady problems. They were just doing it in a room that fourteen-year-old Faith had entirely covered in pink ombré.
In the three weeks since she’d gotten the shock of her life at the Digham Foundation offices, she’d pinned every last hope on the grant coming through. So much for a Big Dig rescue.
“Leo Morales working at Digham. Never in a million years.”
It was like Thea could read her mind—no surprise given their twenty-year-long friendship. Her friend shoved the popcorn bowl in Faith’s direction, and she leaned forward and swiped a handful, chewing glumly.
“He was in asuit.”
