Then everything snapped back, hard. I blinked, mind slamming on the brakes so sharply it almost hurt. The resort was falling apart. Literally. My new business was riding the edge of a landslide.
What the hell am I doing?
I jerked my hand away, too quickly. Cleared my throat, the sound coming out rough and awkward, echoing off the glass and fake wood. “I need to get the shoring estimate to Joe. I’ll text the framing crew, too.”
She didn’t chase me with her eyes. Didn’t smile. Just pulled the structural drawing toward herself, looking suddenly as tired as I felt. “Yeah, there are a billion things to do. At least. Thank you, Chase.”
I scooped up my laptop and the sheaf of half-ruined plans and headed for the door, the strain in my shoulders radiating all the way down my spine. Halfway out, I turned for one last look at her—alone at the table, surrounded by the detritus of another day saved, but not won.
God, I wanted to work things out with her. But how could we when I couldn’t straighten out the thoughts in my own head? When the roof was literally threatening to collapse above us?
The light outside the conference room looked different than when I’d come in, dark and murky by comparison. Somehow, everything I wanted was another cracked beam. Still standing, just barely, beneath the weight of what might come next.
