Chapter Twenty Four
Twenty Four
Jamie could not stop smiling. The steering wheel beneath her palms felt too small for the buzz of energy running through her, and the red lights at every intersection only made it worse.
She tapped the wheel in rhythm with a song on the radio she wasn’t really hearing, her lips tingling as if Erin had kissed her only seconds ago instead of twenty minutes back.
She hadn’t wanted to leave. The call had felt like a cruel joke, slicing the night in half just when it had turned electric.
She had left Erin standing in the parking lot with that quiet smile, the promise of next time clinging between them like perfume she couldn’t wash off.
Even now, as she pulled into the lot at the station, her chest rose with another deep, shaky breath.
She wanted to turn the car around. She wanted to text Erin and say, forget work, come with me, let’s finish this night.
But she didn’t. She parked, grabbed her bag, and forced her legs to carry her through the glass doors.
Inside, the newsroom had thinned with the late hour.
Only a handful of producers hovered near the assignment desk, the glow of scanners and muted televisions washing their tired faces.
Jamie’s heels clicked against the linoleum, and she caught a couple of curious glances.
She realized belatedly that her cheeks still ached from smiling.
She ducked her head, brushing past the cameras and monitors until she reached the editing bay. Tilly was already there, bent low over the monitors, their expression caught between concentration and irritation.
Jamie slid into the chair beside them, trying to sound brisk. “Sorry I’m late. The call came in while I was out.”
Tilly’s eyes didn’t leave the footage. “Out,” they repeated, their voice flat.
Jamie tugged her laptop open, biting back a sigh. “Yeah. Out. You know, like a person who has a life.”
That earned her a glance at last, sharp and quick. Then Tilly’s attention flicked back to the screen, as if they had dismissed her entirely.
Jamie tried to focus. She opened her notes, scanned the script outline, typed a sentence or two.
But the words refused to take shape. Every line blurred into the image of Erin leaning across the table, her smile catching the glow of string lights, her voice low and steady as she teased Jamie about pasta and ice cream flavors.
Her phone buzzed in her bag, a small vibration that jolted her heart like a live wire. She yanked it out, tilting the screen away from Tilly’s line of sight.
Hope you made it back okay.
Erin.
Jamie pressed her lips together, giddiness breaking through her face before she could stop it. She typed quickly.
I did. I’m really sorry I had to leave like that.
The dots appeared, disappeared, then blinked back again. Jamie’s stomach flipped like she was on a roller coaster.
Don’t apologize. It’s your job. Comes with the territory.
Jamie exhaled. She wanted to text something casual, keep it simple, but her fingers betrayed her heart.
Still. I had the best time tonight. I’d really like to do it again.
The reply was fast this time.
Me too.
Jamie’s grin was unstoppable. She tucked the phone down on the desk, screen facedown, pulse racing like she had just sprinted across the newsroom.
“You’re glowing,” Tilly said suddenly.
Jamie jolted, fumbling her laptop open wider. “What?”
“You heard me.” Their tone was clipped, eyes narrowing as they leaned back in the chair. “And I can guess why. You were with her.”
Jamie froze. “Excuse me?”
“Erin,” Tilly said, like the word itself tasted bitter. “I told you to stay away from her.”
Jamie’s chest flared hot, half with embarrassment, half with indignation. She snapped her laptop shut, the sound sharp in the small room. “No, you didn’t. You made cryptic comments and shut down every time I asked. That’s not the same as telling me anything.”
Tilly’s jaw worked.
Jamie pressed forward, her voice rising. “And even if you had, it wouldn’t matter. I’m a grown woman, Tilly. I’ll see who I want. I don’t need your permission.”
Silence swelled between them, thick and suffocating. Tilly’s shoulders rose and fell like they were waging an internal war. Finally, they pushed back from the desk, running both hands through their hair.
“Fine,” Tilly said, their voice shaking. “You want to know? Here it is.”
Jamie crossed her arms, forcing herself not to flinch.
“Back in DC,” Tilly began, their tone sharp, “Erin and I had… something. It wasn’t official.
We didn’t call it anything. But it was there.
It started like fun. Drinks after late briefings, swapping stories, hanging around long after everyone else had gone home.
Then it became nights in her apartment. Mornings where she’d leave coffee on the counter but no note.
It felt like it could be something real, even if neither of us wanted to admit it. ”
Jamie’s pulse quickened, but she kept her expression neutral.
“I thought we were on the same page,” Tilly continued.
“I thought she cared. Maybe not the way I did, but at least enough not to make me feel like a complete idiot. Then one day, it was just over. No fight, no explanation. She shut me out completely. Wouldn’t answer my calls.
Wouldn’t even look at me in press rooms. I was standing three feet away from her at a press conference, asking questions, and she acted like I was invisible. ”
Jamie’s chest ached at the rawness in their voice.
“And it wasn’t just personal,” Tilly added, their voice tightening. “It bled into work. People noticed. When a PIO who used to feed you answers suddenly cuts you off, it makes you look incompetent. Like you can’t be trusted. It messed with my credibility. With my job.”
Jamie swallowed, words sticking in her throat.
“I was a fool,” Tilly said, quieter now. “She used me until it was inconvenient. Then she tossed me aside like I was nothing.”
Jamie reached out instinctively, laying a hand on the desk between them, but Tilly leaned back, arms folded tight.
“You deserve better,” they said firmly, eyes hard on hers. “You deserve someone who won’t chew you up and spit you out when they’re done.”
Jamie inhaled, slow and deep. “Tilly… I hear you. I do. That sounds awful. And I’m sorry you went through it.”
Tilly scoffed. “That’s it? You’re still going to see her?”
Jamie met their gaze, steady. “Because the Erin you’re describing doesn’t match the Erin I know now. Tonight she was thoughtful. She listened. She made me laugh until my stomach hurt. She didn’t feel like someone who only takes.”
“She’s good at acting,” Tilly snapped.
“Or maybe she’s grown since then,” Jamie shot back. “It’s been years, hasn’t it? We’ve all changed. You can’t expect her to be frozen in time.”
Tilly’s mouth opened, then shut again. Their silence was louder than shouting.
Jamie’s voice softened. “I’m not dismissing your experience. I believe you. But I also believe in what I saw tonight. And I need to find out for myself who Erin is now. Not who she was years ago.”
Tilly’s shoulders sagged. They dragged a hand over their face, muttering, “You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?”
Jamie cracked a faint smile. “Yeah. It’s why I’m good at my job.”
Tilly let out a short, humorless laugh, then turned back to the monitors. The conversation, as far as they were concerned, was over.
Jamie sat in silence for a long moment, her own heart still pounding. She reached for her phone again, almost on instinct.
Another text from Erin blinked on the screen.
Good luck with your story tonight. Get some rest after. You deserve it.
Jamie’s throat tightened. She typed back before she could second-guess herself.
Thank you. Sweet dreams, Erin.
She stared at the screen until the message delivered, then tucked the phone against her chest for a moment before slipping it back into her bag.
She opened her laptop again, the cursor blinking in a blank document. But her mind was nowhere near the story. It spun in loops: Erin’s laughter over candlelight, Erin’s kiss in the parking lot, Tilly’s words in the editing bay.
Two versions of Erin Calhoun, colliding in her head.
Jamie chewed her lip, whispering under her breath. “I’ll talk to her. I have to know.”
The words felt like a vow.
She turned back to her laptop, but her fingers hovered above the keys, her heart caught between the fire she felt with Erin and the warning that still echoed in Tilly’s voice.