13. Darby
Darby
Selene walks into the boardroom and the air shifts.
Her presence isn’t loud, but it’s felt. She’s wearing a cream blouse tucked neatly into a fitted black skirt, the fabric hugging her waist and stopping just above her knees.
Her long, lean legs are accentuated by her black heels, adding a quiet elegance to her stride.
The soft red waves of her hair fall effortlessly over her shoulders, catching the morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
She probably looks professional and poised to everyone else—but to me, she’s devastatingly beautiful. I memorize everything about her again.
I swallow hard and sit up straighter, hoping no one notices how I can’t take my eyes off her.
She’s the fourth person to arrive. I’m seated at the head as usual, with Aden and Garrett beside me. Garrett has a cup of coffee in one hand; his sleeves rolled up like he’s already halfway through his day. The smells of fresh coffee, polished wood, and leather don’t bother me this time.
Selene hesitates by the door for a moment, scanning the room. Our eyes meet briefly, and my chest tightens when I see the flash of uncertainty in her gaze. But she quickly masks it.
She continues standing as the other attendees arrive.
She waits for everyone to sit first, then takes the empty seat in the room. Her hands rest neatly on the table, and so far, she seems okay.
I clear my throat and begin. “Thank you all for being here. We’re facing a lot of public scrutiny right now, but the plan we’ve developed should help shift the narrative.”
Garrett leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Community involvement is the key. We’re starting with the community projects we’ve quietly funded over the last few years. We’ll expand those efforts and make them visible.”
Aden nods. “We’ll focus primarily on the youth programs and events first. Then, we will see how this evolves. He points at me. “Our president will be the face of the project.”
If there’s one thing I’d forever be grateful for, it’s that my brothers and I work in sync. Sometimes, without any prior discussion or practice. On this matter, they have more information than I do, so I know I’ll listen more and ask questions from here on.
I glance at Selene, but she’s looking down, jotting notes in her notebook.
“We want genuine involvement,” Aden continues.
“This can’t be a superficial campaign. The public will see through it and the company is genuinely interested in helping our communities.
Selene.” She looks up. “Your job is to document everything Darby does. You’ll follow him, observe the events, and write articles or human-interest pieces highlighting the impact his efforts make. ”
I shift in my seat, and the fact that I keep looking at her makes it hard for me to focus. “How long are we running this?”
“Until we see an improvement in youth growth and participation and a change in public perception,” Garrett answers. “This isn’t a quick fix. It’s a long-term commitment.”
I can feel Selene’s eyes on me for a second before she turns back to her notes.
A few department heads chime in, suggesting local organizations we should partner with and projects we can scale. I nod along, offering input when necessary, but my attention keeps drifting back to Selene.
Then, halfway into the meeting, she does something no one expects. Not even me.
She raises her hand.
The room goes quiet. Even Aden looks surprised. The Selene I remember, wasn’t the type to sit back quietly, but I wasn’t sure if this version of her still had that fire.
“I have some ideas,” she directs her comment to me.
I smile slightly and gesture for her to continue. “Go ahead.”
She clears her throat and sits up straighter. “I know the focus is on large-scale community outreach, but I think we should also incorporate smaller, personal stories. People connect with real experiences. Highlighting those smaller stories will make the overall campaign feel more authentic.”
Garrett raises a brow, nodding slightly as he taps his pen against his notepad. “What kind of stories are you thinking?”
Selene leans forward, her fingers brushing over the corner of her notebook.
“For example, we could document a single family's journey that benefits from a scholarship program. Show their struggles and triumphs. It’s one thing to say, ‘We funded this program,’ but another to show how it changes a specific life. People respond to that.”
Aden taps his chin, considering her suggestion. “It’s a good angle.”
“And,” she continues, her gaze flicking to mine, “I was thinking about how companies often miss opportunities to build real trust within communities because they’re focused on scale. Someone once told me that trust is built one person at a time.”
My breath catches. I’m that someone. That someone is me!
I remember that conversation. It was late at night, and we were lying on the hood of my car, staring at the stars.
She had her head on my shoulder, and I was telling her about a potential internship I was considering.
We talked about corporate responsibility and how easy it is for companies to lose sight of what matters.
I didn’t think she remembered that.
Selene takes a breath and continues. “I think that idea still applies. In addition to making an impression with numbers, we should aim to leave a lasting impression on individual lives. One person at a time.”
The room is silent for a moment, and then Aden nods. “I like it. We can integrate that into the storytelling angle of the campaign.”
Garrett smirks. “Not bad, Selene. I see why Olivia keeps bragging about your skills.”
I don’t say anything. I’m too busy watching her. The way she holds herself and her lips curve slightly when she realizes her ideas have been well received hits me all at once. She cares about this. She cares about making a difference here, and this might not just be about her paycheck.
“Anything else?” Aden asks.
Selene hesitates, then shakes her head. “That’s all for now.”
Aden closes his notebook and stands. “Let’s get to work, then. Darby, you’ll be heading to the first site tomorrow. Selene, you’ll be with him.”
The meeting adjourns.
The room empties and the sound of chairs sliding across the floor fades.
The lingering scent of coffee and fresh paper hangs in the air, but the heavy scent of cologne reduces.
I glance over at Selene, who’s tucking her notebook under her arm, her long red hair shifting as she adjusts her bag.
My throat tightens. She’s about to leave, and for some reason, I don’t want her to—not yet.
“Selene,” I call out. My voice is steady, but inside, I feel anything but. She turns, her hazel-green eyes catching mine.
“Can you come to my office? There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Her lips press together like she’s weighing whether or not to say yes. But after a second, she nods. “Okay.”
I walk ahead, leading her down the corridor toward the office. We enter and I close the door behind her. She crosses her arms, tilting her head slightly. “What’s this about?”
I clear my throat, suddenly unsure of how to start. I lean against the edge of my desk and cross my arms, mirroring her stance. “Did you mention that idea on purpose?”
Her brows knit together. “What do you mean?”
“The part about building trust one person at a time.” I pause, watching her reaction closely. “Do you remember where that idea came from?”
Her frown eases, and she sighs. I think she was expecting me to say something else.
A soft smile tugs at her lips, and she rolls her eyes in that familiar way that used to make me laugh.
“Of course, I remember, Darby. “We spent nights coming up with those ideas in my apartment back in college. You were stressed about that internship, and we talked about how companies forget the importance of individual connections.”
Her voice trails off, but the memory settles between us like a warm blanket on a cold night. My heart leaps, but I fight to stay composed. She remembers. She didn’t just pull that idea from nowhere—she pulled it from us.
For a moment, the noise in my head quiets, and all I can think about is how much I miss the way things used to be. How much I wish we could go back to how we used to be.
I take a breath and force myself to sound calm. “Selene, I don’t want you to work for me.”
She blinks, caught off guard. “What?”
“I want you to work with me,” I say, stepping closer.
“What does that mean?”
“It means regarding this project, I’m not going to ask you to follow orders and write what I say. Your ideas, your perspective—they’re what we need. They would be prioritized and headed. We’ll be partners in this.”
Her eyes widen, and for a moment, she looks like she’s forgotten how to breathe.
She opens her mouth, but no words come out.
I can see the faint blush creeping up her neck, coloring her cheeks.
She quickly turns her head, hiding her face behind her hair.
She clears her throat and adjusts the strap of her bag.
“Fine,” she says, her voice quieter than before. “No problem.”
I grin. I know her well enough to recognize when she’s flustered, even if she’s trying to hide it.
“Good,” I say, stepping back to give her space. “Let’s make this work.”
I walk her to the elevator, and the hallway feels smaller. There’s a tension between us, but it’s not the heavy, uncomfortable kind. It’s the kind that makes my pulse quicken, and my palms itch to touch her again. But I hold back. I have to.
When we reach the lobby, the morning rush has died down, and only a few people mill around, their conversations blending into the background. Selene’s eyes scan the room, and then she spots him.
Leo.
I haven’t seen him since that night I left without saying goodbye. He’s standing near the reception area, his small hands clutching his backpack straps. His dark brown hair is messy, and he’s looking around. Then he turns toward us, and his green eyes light up when he sees me.
“Mr. Darby!” Leo’s voice cuts through the noise like a beacon, and before I can react, he’s running toward me.
I crouch just in time to catch him as he throws his arms around my neck. The force of the hug knocks me slightly off balance, but I steady us both. His body is warm, and he smells like soap and the faint sweetness of syrup. I hold him for a moment, my hand resting gently on his back.
I glance at Selene; her eyes are wide, her lips slightly parted. She obviously didn’t expect this kind of reaction, and neither did I. But something about the way Leo hugs me—without hesitation, without fear—makes something inside me shift again, just like the first time I set my eyes on him.
Its warmth, pure and overwhelming, like the sun breaking through a storm.
I never particularly liked kids, but Leo has made me feel otherwise. I don’t understand why. Maybe it’s because he’s Selene’s son, and I’m…fond of her.
“I knew I’d see you again,” Leo says, pulling back slightly but keeping his arms around my neck.
I smile, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead. “You did?”
He nods confidently. “My mom said I would.” Leo grins and lets go, turning to Selene. “Can Mr. Darby have dinner with us?”
Selene’s face softens, but there’s a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Not tonight, buddy. Mr. Darby has work to do.”
Leo pouts for a second, but then he nods as if he understands something even I don’t. I stand and ruffle his hair, feeling the weight of his small hand in mine for a moment longer before he pulls away. “See you later, kid,” I say softly.
“Bye, Mr. Darby!” He waves enthusiastically as Selene leads him toward the exit.
I watch them leave, Leo’s excited chatter fading as the glass doors close. My chest feels strange—tight but warm, like something important just slipped through my fingers.