“So how was work, really?” I ask, closing the door behind me.
Her face falls. “Do we have to talk about that? Can’t we talk about your relationship with Siri?”
Scowling, I step up to her beneath the ladder. “Come down from there.” My hands slide up, gripping her waist as she steps down, and I guide her to the sofa. “Talk to me, Marley.”
She curls into the corner, pulling her knees to her chest. “Derek’s getting worse. More cruel. Today, he commented that I should probably stick to administrative work since my‘creative contributions’aren’t measuring up… in front of the whole damn team.” My jaw clenches. “And the worst part?” Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “I let him get to me. I went to the bathroom and cried because I started believing him.”
“Stop.” I pull her into my lap, and she comes willingly. “Don’t let that bastard in your head. You’re brilliant, Small Town. Creative and talented and so fucking smart it terrifies me.”
“Youhaveto say that.”
“I don’t have to say shit.” I cup her face, tilting it up. “Derek is a small, insecure man who’s threatened by your talent. But you’re better than him, Marley. Better than that whole toxic environment you call a workplace.”
“I wish I could just leave,” she whispers.
And there it is.
My opening.
“What if you could?” I ask carefully.
“What?”
“A buddy of mine mentioned his company is hiring. Creative director position at an entertainment company.”
Her eyes widen. “Creative director?”
“Yeah. Big company, good benefits, better pay.” All true. Every word. “Want me to get you the details?”
“Nitro, that’s… yes. Yes, of course!”
“I’ll text him tonight, set up an interview.” I brush a strand of red hair behind her ear. “You deserve to work somewhere that appreciates you.”
She throws her arms around my neck. “Thank you. God, thank you. Even if nothing comes of it, just having hope…”
“Something will come of it. Trust me.”
“I do trust you. Is that ridiculous? We haven’t known each other that long, but I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone in years.”
The words burrow deep into my chest.
She trusts me.
Even though I’m lying to her about who I really am.
The guilt tries to surface, but I shove it down… deep down. This is about giving Marley a chance she deserves.
We order Thai food and spend the evening on her floor that she is halfway through staining, talking about everything and nothing. Around ten, her phone buzzes with a text from Sage. She groans, looking over the text.
“Uh, Sage is having an existential crisis… I should probably go make sure she is okay,” Marley says reluctantly.
“I’ll drive you.”
We quickly tidy up and then hop in the car, and I take her to Sage’s apartment. When we pull up, she doesn’t immediately get out. “Thank you,” she says softly. “For listening. For the job lead. For just… being you.” She kisses my cheek, her lips warm against my beard. “Goodnight, Nitro.”
“Goodnight, Marley.”
I wait until she’s inside before driving back to my office, the one I use while I am Damon Blackwell.
