Chapter 48
Forty Eight
Life finally felt like it was smoothing out again.
Not perfect, not easy, but steady enough that she could breathe without checking if the air would give out. The city moved at its usual rhythm: horns, crosswalks, chatter outside coffee shops. For once, Jamie felt like she was keeping pace instead of chasing it.
Her mornings had settled into something simple.
She woke up early, scrolled headlines with her first cup of coffee, and let herself enjoy the quiet before the day started.
Work felt lighter now, the kind of busy she used to like.
No tension humming beneath the surface, no pit in her stomach waiting for the next thing to go wrong.
Just assignments, deadlines, and the quiet satisfaction of doing them well.
She was back to neighborhood stories and community pieces.
A ribbon-cutting at a new elementary school, a bakery reopening after renovations, a firehouse fundraiser where kids got to tour the trucks.
It wasn’t the kind of work that led every broadcast, but she didn’t mind.
These were the stories that reminded her why she’d wanted to report in the first place.
Even Harper had noticed, tossing her a grin across the newsroom one night. “You seem more like yourself lately,” she’d said, and Jamie hadn’t known how to answer except to smile back.
Because she did feel like herself again. Or at least a version she could recognize. The heaviness she’d been carrying for weeks had quieted into something manageable, something she could live alongside instead of under.
And somewhere in that quiet, there was Erin.
Their talk had settled something inside her. Nothing dramatic, no big declarations, just honesty. They’d agreed to keep showing up. To stop measuring everything by what went wrong before and start seeing what could go right. It wasn’t fixed, but it didn’t need to be. For now, it was enough.
That afternoon, she stopped by the precinct to follow up on a short piece about a neighborhood watch group, coffee in hand and camera bag slung over her shoulder. It should’ve been a quick stop: ask a few questions, grab a quote, get out.
But routine had a way of surprising her.
Erin was standing just outside the precinct doors, talking to another officer with a file tucked under her arm.
Her hair caught a sliver of sunlight that slipped through the overcast sky, and for a second Jamie just watched.
It still felt strange, seeing her like this again without the weight of everything between them pressing down.
When Erin glanced up, her expression flickered with surprise, then something softer. She said something quick to the officer beside her and started walking over.
“Didn’t think I’d see WCVB around here on a slow news day,” Erin said, a faint smile tugging at her mouth.
Jamie lifted her coffee in greeting. “Someone’s got to keep Boston safe from potholes and parades.”
That earned a real laugh, short but warm. “You always know how to find the hard-hitting stories.”
“Occupational hazard,” Jamie said, shrugging.
The conversation flowed easier than she expected.
They talked about work, small updates, nothing heavy.
Erin mentioned how chaotic things had been since she got back on duty.
Jamie complained about the station’s new editing software.
There was no edge to it, no awkward pauses—just an ease that came from knowing what it had cost to get back here.
When Erin brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, Jamie noticed the faint crease between her brows had finally started to fade. She looked tired but lighter, like she was learning how to breathe again too.
A gust of wind whipped past them, carrying the smell of roasted coffee and exhaust. Erin shifted her cup, fingers brushing Jamie’s for half a second. Neither of them pulled away.
After a beat, Erin tilted her head. “You free later this week? Maybe Thursday?”
Jamie hesitated just long enough for it to mean something. “Yeah,” she said, then laughed softly. “Sorry, yes. Thursday’s good.”
Erin’s smile reached her eyes this time. “There’s a new place on Tremont. They’ve got terrible parking and good food. Thought we could test both.”
Jamie’s chest warmed. “Guess I can suffer through that.”
“Good,” Erin said, stepping back toward the door. “I’ll text you the time.”
Jamie watched her go, the door catching the wind as it closed behind her. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel the ache of what they’d been through—only the quiet, steady pulse of something new finding its footing.
* * *
Thursday came quicker than Jamie expected.
She’d told herself it was just dinner, nothing more.
Still, she changed her shirt twice and debated eyeliner before deciding against it.
The air carried that late-summer chill that hinted at fall, and downtown hummed with its usual Thursday rhythm—music from patios, laughter spilling from open doors, headlights gliding over damp pavement.
Erin was already outside the restaurant when Jamie arrived, hands tucked into her jacket pockets, posture easy but her smile shy around the edges.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” Jamie answered, tucking her keys into her bag. “You weren’t kidding about the parking.”
Erin laughed, quiet but genuine. “I warned you. Boston’s favorite sport—circling the block until you question your will to live.”
Jamie grinned. “I only considered it twice.”
Inside, the restaurant buzzed just enough to give them privacy without silence. Warm light pooled across the table, glinting off Erin’s glass as she swirled her drink. They started with safe topics—how busy the week had been, how the city couldn’t decide if it wanted to rain or stay humid forever.
But comfort crept in quickly, soft and unforced.
“I saw your piece on that bakery reopening,” Erin said. “You made the owner cry in the best way.”
Jamie raised an eyebrow. “You watched?”
“Of course I did. You’re good at what you do, Garrison.”
The compliment landed deeper than she expected. “Thanks,” she said quietly. “It felt good to cover something that didn’t end in handcuffs.”
Erin smiled at that. “I get that.” She paused, tracing a finger along the rim of her glass. “It’s been strange being back. Everyone treats me like I’m made of glass, or like I might slip again.”
“You won’t,” Jamie said before she could stop herself. “You’re solid, Erin. You always have been.”
The words hung there, gentle but certain. Erin looked down, the corner of her mouth twitching like she was trying not to smile. “You really believe that?”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full, weighted with all the things they weren’t ready to name yet. Jamie sipped her drink, her knee brushing Erin’s under the table. Neither moved.
“So,” Erin said after a moment, voice lighter. “If this whole journalism thing doesn’t work out, what’s plan B?”
Jamie tilted her head. “I’m supposed to have a backup plan?”
Erin grinned. “You don’t strike me as someone who sits still long.”
“Maybe not,” Jamie said, smiling into her glass. “But I think I’d like to try someday. You know—find some kind of rhythm. Something that feels settled.”
Erin tilted her head. “Like what?”
Jamie hesitated, then shrugged. “I used to picture myself as one of those anchors who could do it all. Big career, happy family, the kind of life that looks put together on camera. I don’t know if that version of me still fits, but I guess I haven’t stopped reaching for it.”
Erin’s voice softened. “Doesn’t sound so bad.”
Jamie looked up at her. “No,” she said quietly. “It doesn’t.”
Dinner stretched longer than either expected.
The plates cleared, their conversation drifted from work to small confessions—favorite late-night snacks, the worst stories they’d ever had to cover, the way both of them secretly hated Boston’s winters but loved how the first snow always made the city quiet.
It felt easy, like breathing again after too long underwater.
When they stepped outside, the air had cooled. Streetlights blinked off the wet pavement, and the sound of a saxophone carried from a nearby bar.
Erin hesitated before speaking. “I’m just a few streets over. You could come by for a bit, if you want. Coffee, wine, whatever sounds good.”
Jamie smiled. “Yeah, I know where you are.”
Erin’s lips quirked. “Right. Guess you’ve been there once or twice.” She paused, softer now. “Leo would lose his mind if he saw you.”
Jamie met her eyes. “Pretty sure that goes both ways.”
Erin laughed, the sound quiet but genuine. “Then come on.”