Chapter 14 #2
Neither of us pulls away immediately.
Which is how Marisol finds us when she walks in a second later.
“Amara!”
We jerk apart like teenagers caught making out behind the gym.
“I saw your email this morning,” Marisol continues. Her smile is genuine. “I’m so glad you’re staying another week. The Morrison family will be relieved. They specifically asked if you could handle their follow-up.”
“Happy to help,” I manage, trying to sound like someone who didn’t just have an extended hand-touching moment with her employer.
Marisol glances between us, and I swear I see amusement in her eyes. “I’ll let you both get back to work. Just wanted to say welcome back.”
She disappears back into the main clinic area, and I’m left staring at my coffee cup like it personally betrayed me.
Which it did.
“Subtle,” Corin murmurs.
“Shut up.” But I’m fighting a smile, and from the corner of my eye, I think he might be, too.
I let the coffee cool down a bit before I drink it, because I’m already hot enough as it is, courtesy of my poor wardrobe choice earlier.
I finish the Williams family response memo and touch base on some of the Morrison family follow-up documentation. But my mind keeps circling back to what Corin said about Xavier. About missing evidence. About being terrified they won’t find the forged documents in time.
At five, I stand abruptly.
Corin glances up from his laptop. “Where are you going?”
“Storage area. The one where we keep the archived foundation files.” I grab my legal pad out of habit, even though I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking for. “Thought I’d take a look again.”
“You don’t have to do that,” he says slowly. “It’s better if you stay out of the foundation—”
There it is. The control again. Trying to “protect me” again.
Going to have to have a little chat with him about that soon...
“I know,” I interrupt. “But I’m here. And basically done for the day. Might as well use my remaining time productively.”
He sighs, then nods. Once. “Third filing cabinet on the right. Bottom drawer. That’s where the older board correspondence is archived.”
I head into the cramped storage area and find the third cabinet on the right and yank open the bottom drawer.
I start rifling through folders.
Board minutes from three years ago. Financial audits from the foundation’s early days. Email threads about donor outreach and grant applications.
Nothing that looks remotely like the kind of forged documents Corin described.
I spend a good twenty minutes going through every folder in that drawer, then the drawer above it for good measure. My fingers are covered in dust and my knees hurt from crouching on the concrete floor, and I’ve found exactly zero smoking guns.
When I emerge back into the main office, Corin looks up with a question in his eyes.
I shake my head. “Didn’t see anything useful, yet. Just old correspondence and audit reports.”
“Thanks for trying.” His voice is quiet.
“We’ll keep looking,” I tell him.
He flashes a wistful smile that tells me he has no intention of actually letting me do that. “Of course. Anyway, I think we should call it a day.”
“Probably.” I start packing up my tote. I managed to survive my thick wool outfit, not to mention Corin, and I didn’t sweat too much or suffer from heat stroke to boot.
Small wins, right?
Just wish I could’ve found some evidence against Xavier in the storage area.
But it’s probably going to take a lot more than a quick half hour at the end of the work day to drum something up.
Corin probably has whole teams of people dedicated to scouring digital versions of those documents already. ..
Speaking of Corin, he closes his laptop and stands now, too, gathering his own things.
In the main room, Marisol has already gone home.
We walk out together into the late afternoon heat. My rental car is parked three spots down from where Keon waits with the SUV.
I’m fishing my keys from my tote when Corin says: “Will you be at the clinic tomorrow morning?”
“That’s generally how employment contracts work,” I reply.
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Right. That’s why you came at two today.”
I shrug. “Today I was operating on Island Time.”
That finally gets a laugh out of him. “We’ll make an Eleutheran out of you yet!”
I unlock my car door, toss my tote onto the passenger seat. The interior feels like it’s nine thousand degrees. Should’ve parked in the shade, should’ve worn a sun dress. Hindsight, etc.
Corin hasn’t moved. He’s just standing there. “Amara.”
He pauses. “Thank you. For staying.”
My throat becomes tight. “You already said that. In writing.”
He nods. “I know. But I wanted to say it out loud.”
I should get in my car. Start the engine. Drive away before I say something stupid like “I’m glad I stayed” or “please stop trying to protect me from things I can handle” or “why do you have to look so goddamn good in linen shirts.”
Instead I hear myself say, “See you tomorrow.”
Then I climb into my rental before I can complicate things further.
Back at my villa, I collapse onto the couch and immediately text Jess. I signed an extension. Staying another week.
Her reply comes back almost instantly: GOOD. Don’t fuck this up.
Thanks for the vote of confidence.
Jess: You know what I mean. Stop running.
I stare at my phone.
Stop running.
Like it’s that easy.
I set my phone down and open my legal pad. Beside today’s entry, I write in tiny letters at the bottom of the page:
What if you stopped running and stayed long enough to find out what happens?
That’s a very good question.