Page 125 of Silent Shadows

A wave of relief rolls over me, thankful that Marissa wasn’t upset about the direction being more serious and earnest. She sends me a link to a version with her edits and some social cuts to promote. I bring up the first post draft and I’m hit with a fresh wave of excitement and nerves. I have no idea how this is going to be received, but I’m still content knowing we made it past the first episode.

“To Daisy,” Jax says suddenly, lifting his glass.

I blink. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” He points at me. “First episode shipped. History made. True journalism resurrected. Ridgefield quaking in his gross and probably very stinky boots.”

Maya raises her cider. “To Daisy.”

Taylor lifts her whiskey. “To asking better questions than the rest of us.”

Miles raises his beer last.

His eyes find mine.

“To Daisy,” he says, quietly enough that it feels like he’s saying it only to me.

And there it is again. That pull. That awful, golden, impossible pull.

I look down before my face can betray me.

We drink.

For maybe twenty minutes, everything is good.

Better than good.

The kind of good I don’t trust because I can already feel the story preparing to punish us for it.

Then the door opens, and the energy of the bar changes.

Not dramatically. No record scratch, though that would have been cooler. Instead, conversations dip slightly and the bartender looks up, already annoyed.

The Ridgefield crew is back.

Grant spots Miles immediately.

“Well,” he says, loud enough for half the bar to hear. “If it isn’t the Scooby gang.”

Jax mutters, “Lazy reference.”

Miles doesn’t move. “Grant.”

Grant’s smile widens. “Little Adler.”

He looks from Miles to Taylor, then Maya, then me.

His gaze lingers in a way that makes my skin tighten.

“And you brought your girlfriends,” he says. “Cute.”

I lift my chin. “And you brought unresolved issues with women. In cargo pants. Cute.”

Jax chokes on his drink.

Grant’s eyes sharpen on me. “Podcast girl,” he says.

“Man with no indoor voice.”