Chapter 12
Summer Squall
Lena stared at the empty doorway, like it might somehow explain what had just happened. The muffled echoes of David’s retreating footsteps faded, leaving a heavy silence behind. It pressed against her chest, cold and unwelcome. That had not gone well.
She lowered herself back into her chair, her limbs stiff, the leather creaking beneath her weight. Did she actually just get into an awkward, borderline fight with David? Lighthearted, affable, endlessly sarcastic David? It didn’t seem possible.
Maybe she’d imagined the descent; except she hadn’t. It had been real. And stupid. Now, a ball of embarrassment and hurt sat coiled in her core, hot and dense, lodged somewhere between her ribs and gut.
She studied her hands, still fisted where they rested on the desk.
Her chest ached in a way that always came after something small but deeply unsettling—like when someone you admired gave a look you didn’t expect, or said something so wrong it lingered in your thoughts longer than it should. A dull throb, persistent and unwelcome.
Reflexively, she reached for her phone—thumb already halfway to “Emma” before remembering that Emma was away with the task force team. Far too busy to listen to this petty drama. Venting in person was one thing. Interrupting work another. Did she really want to dump this all at her friend’s feet?
She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen, the glass smooth and cool beneath her touch. The answer was no, definitely not. She didn’t want to be that person.
She put the phone down with a sigh that stretched all the way into her bones; the sound seemed to fill the empty office.
Her eyes wandered over her desk, but nothing held her attention: forms that needed approval, schedules to complete, even her half-drunk chai tea sitting in an oversized mug that had long gone cold.
She wrapped her fingers around the ceramic—tepid, no warmth left—and pulled them away again without drinking.
A fine sadness unfurled from her heart, thin and creeping—the kind that made everything in the room seem dimmer and lonelier. The overhead lights now glared too brightly.
She had no one else to call.
The thought struck harder than expected.
Walter had taken on the role of mentor, but she couldn’t talk to him about something like this. About David, of all people. About awkwardness and feelings and how a maybe-sorta crush exploded into a crazy misunderstanding.
She supposed Kate qualified as a friend now, but that wasn’t cemented yet—and certainly not something she wanted to test by unloading her emotional baggage.
Especially not when Kate was still recovering from…
all of it. God, thinking about what she endured made Lena feel selfish for spiraling over a conversation. She’d see Kate at lunch tomorrow.
She perked up, straightening in her chair. She could sound Kate out. If Kate asked…
Her thoughts kept crashing back to her mistake. No, not even that. It hadn’t been a mistake. She’d defended herself—barely—and then David bolted like he’d committed some unspeakable crime.
Her fingers gripped the edge of the desk and pressed into the wood, hard enough that the grain bit into her palms.
She needed to fix this before it got worse. She loved it here. Honestly, she hadn’t been this happy in any position… ever. It felt like a future worth holding on to. Losing it because of some stupid misunderstanding was unthinkable.
Except… it wasn’t about losing the job, was it?
No. Because if David truly was upset with her, she wouldn’t be able to stay. Not here. Not in the same building where every hallway reminded her of his laughter and crooked grin. Of feeling like she belonged somewhere.
Her gut clenched with panic, an icy fist squeezing. If it came down to that, she’d need to leave the island, too. There were no other places to work on the island for someone with her job skills. She’d have to go find some tiny apartment in a city she didn’t love and start over again.
God. She could pack up her belongings in an afternoon. In the past, that would have been empowering, but today, the thought drained her, leaving her hollow and scraped out.
She breathed in steadily through her nose—the faint scent of cold chai and paper and the lemon cleaner the janitorial staff used. Another breath. Tears pricked, an old ghost of sorrow rising before she could stop it, burning at the corners of her eyes.
A blaring ring cut through her spiral. She jumped, her heart lurching, blinking the moisture away as she grabbed the phone now vibrating across the desk, silencing the ringer.
UNKNOWN CALLER glowed on the screen in stark white letters.
Of course. She thumbed it on and lifted it to her ear, the plastic warm from sitting in the office heat.
“Hello,” she said, forcing her voice steady.
Silence answered. No—something… A breath? Maybe. A slow exhale, too indistinct to be anything definitively human, but not mechanical enough to dismiss either.
“Hello,” she said again, sharper now, straightening in her chair, her free hand pressing flat against the desk.
Her fingers tightened around the phone, hard enough that the edges dug into her palm.
No voice. But a chuckle? Faint and chilling, like someone amused by her confusion.
The sound slithered down her spine. The connection ended with a soft click.
Lena dropped her hand to her lap, phone still clutched tightly, her knuckles pale. Fabulous, another prank call. The fourth this week. Or the fifth? Whatever. It was just what she needed to add to her mile-long stack of emotional nonsense: prank calls… for what? Kicks?
Maybe she should go home and start packing. Maybe everything was coming undone again.
The thought curled sharp and cold beneath her ribs, familiar and bitter. She stopped, forcing herself to follow that thread. Packing? Really?
She sat up straighter, rolling her shoulders back, blinking as she looked around the office.
The cozy space she’d been making her own—her desk, her files, the plant Alex gave her on her first day that she’d somehow kept alive.
She’d just taken the reins here. She had a team that respected her.
A workspace she enjoyed. A routine she felt good in.
How had her mind gone from awkward conversation to full-blown exile in ten minutes?
No, she wouldn’t spiral. Not now. Not again.
Her spine straightened as she rested her hands on the desk, palms open, fingers splayed against the smooth surface, steadying. So, she had a weird moment with David. So what?
He wouldn’t be angry. It wasn’t his style. The man played constant pranks on the management staff here and still got invited to Thanksgiving dinner. He didn’t hold grudges. He had a trickster’s heart, not a tyrant’s.
She had done nothing wrong. She’d stood her ground, teased him a little, and then watched him melt down like he’d insulted her entire bloodline.
What had he said? Something about not being let out in public because he didn’t know how to talk to people.
Lena gasped, her breath catching in her throat. Wait. Is that what upset him? He thought he’d hurt her?
Her brow furrowed as the puzzle pieces began shifting into place, the picture becoming clearer.
Yeah, he’d made that illogical comment, which stung for a second, sure, but she realized almost immediately he hadn’t meant it personally.
He wasn’t pointing fingers—he stated the truth of a genius tech brain who saw the world through algorithms and functions.
Of course, all things human seemed illogical to him.
She’d only pushed back to remind him she wasn’t helpless. Teased him a little. Then he’d shut down. Gotten all tangled up in his words. Eyes wide—she could still see them, that stricken look. Apologetic about everything but without an actual apology.
He didn’t get people—not instinctively—and believing she might be upset? For him, that must’ve stung like a hornet’s nest.
Damn.
Her mouth softened with a rueful smile, the tightness in her jaw easing as the picture snapped into place.
He hadn’t been mad. He thought he’d offended her.
And David? The guy who joked effortlessly and faced down firewalls like they were a blood sport?
He didn’t enjoy being the bad guy in real life.
A knock at her door broke her concentration, sharp and sudden. Alex poked his head in, his smile easy-going, his jacket already on. “Tracy’s here, so I’m heading out. Don’t work too late, boss lady.”
Lena smiled, grateful for the disruption, for the normalcy of it. “Go on, enjoy your night,” she said, waving him off with a small motion of her hand.
The door clicked shut again, the latch settling with a soft snick, and she noted the time. Past six. The sky outside would soon turn deep lavender, the sinking sun streaking any clouds with gold and violet. She was missing the sunset.
Yes, it was time to wrap up. The job descriptions could wait. So could the conversation with David.
She pushed back from her desk, the chair's wheels rolling smoothly across the floor and stood, stretching her arms overhead until her shoulders popped. She would fix things.
Next time, she wouldn’t let him walk away hunched in on himself. She would remind him that not everyone needed perfect words or hard logic to see his worth—even if he didn’t always see it himself.