Thirty
Savannah sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the dark screen of her phone like she could will it not to hurt when it lit up.
Her apartment was too quiet.
Her head was too loud.
She’d spent the entire day pretending.
Pretending her chest didn’t ache.
Pretending she hadn’t woken up next to someone she desperately wanted.
Pretending she hadn’t panicked so hard, she shut down.
Pretending she didn’t miss Tilly already.
She wasn’t calling to talk about that.
She wasn’t ready to even think about that.
She just… needed someone who felt familiar.
Someone who knew her before all of this.
Someone whose voice could steady her, even if she couldn’t tell them why she needed steadying.
Her thumb hovered over the contact.
Alana.
Her little sister.
Savannah pressed call before she could stop herself.
It rang twice.
“Sav?” Alana’s voice was warm and surprised. “Hey. Everything okay?”
Savannah’s throat tightened instantly. Too fast. She swallowed it down. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just… wanted to hear your voice.”
Alana paused. “You never call this late.”
Savannah forced a shaky laugh. “I know. Sorry.”
“What’s wrong?”
Savannah curled her free hand into the blanket beside her. “Nothing. Just… long day.”
Her voice cracked on the last word. She hoped Alana didn’t hear it.
Of course she did.
“Sav,” Alana said softly. “Talk to me.”
Savannah stared at the wall, eyes burning. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She was the older sister. The one who held it together. The one who didn’t fall apart, no matter how much the ground shifted under her.
“I’m just tired,” Savannah whispered. “Really tired.”
Alana’s voice softened. “You sound sad.”
Savannah closed her eyes. “I’m not. I’m fine.”
“Savannah.”
She’d always hated how her name sounded when Alana said it like that. Too knowing. Too gentle.
Savannah forced a breath out. “I’m just… overwhelmed. With work. With everything.”
Alana hummed. “Do you want to come home for a weekend?”
The question hit harder than she expected.
Home.
A place she hadn’t let herself want in weeks. A place she didn’t feel like she could crawl back to without looking like she’d failed at being an adult.
“I can’t,” Savannah said quickly. “The schedule’s too messy. I’ve got storms and city stuff, and next week’s a nightmare.”
Alana made a small, sympathetic noise. “Okay. Then I’ll come visit you.”
Savannah shook her head, tears pressing behind her eyes. “No, Alana, you don’t need to—”
“I want to,” she cut in. “You don’t have to explain anything. I just want to see you.”
Savannah’s breath trembled. “I don’t want you worrying.”
“Says who?” Alana asked. “Pretty sure sisters get to worry. It’s in the job description.”
Savannah let out a weak, humorless laugh. “I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you.”
“You still do,” Alana said. “But you don’t have to pretend nothing’s wrong just to make it easier on me.”
Savannah blinked hard. A tear slipped free before she could catch it. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“You didn’t bother me,” Alana said immediately. “You called me. That’s what I’m here for.”
Savannah wiped her cheek with the heel of her hand. “I just needed to hear your voice.”
“I’m glad you called.”
They fell into a quiet. Not uncomfortable. Not pressured. Just a soft space she hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Sav?” Alana said, gently again. “Whatever’s going on… you’re not alone.”
Savannah nodded even though Alana couldn’t see it. Her chest hurt, but in a way that felt a little less sharp.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “I know.”
“Look, you can’t say no,” Alana started. “But, I’m going to come see you.”
“Alana, I’m fine.”
“I just said you can’t say no!” Alana shot back.
“Fine, we can do dinner or something,” Savannah said, giving in.
“Good. Promise you’ll call again tomorrow?”
Savannah closed her eyes. “Yeah. I will.”
“Good. Now get some sleep. You sound exhausted.”
Savannah exhaled slowly. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” Alana said. “Night, Sav.”
“Night.”
Savannah hung up and sat in the quiet for a long time, phone still in her hand.
* * *
Savannah walked through the newsroom doors with her shoulders squared and her expression carefully neutral. Everything was normal. Everything was fine. If she repeated it enough times, maybe it would stick.
The morning editorial meeting clustered around the assignment desk, Henry flipping through rundown sheets while reporters and photogs circled up.
Harper stood beside Savannah, notebook in hand, her tight curls framing her face with the kind of effortless confidence Savannah envied.
Across the group, Tilly organized batteries on the gear cart.
They didn’t look up.
Not once.
Savannah kept her eyes forward.
Henry cleared his throat. “We need a reporter on riverfront water levels. Cleanup efforts need coverage, too. And someone check the city council livestream for any updates.”
Savannah stepped forward. “I can take the riverfront.”
At the same time, Tilly said, “Andrew should take the riverfront.”
Every head turned.
Henry blinked. “Alright…” He looked at Savannah. “Savannah, you want it?”
She nodded once. “Yes.”
“Cool,” Henry said. “Then Tilly goes with you.”
Savannah’s stomach dropped.
Tilly didn’t look up. “Andrew can take her.”
Andrew, who had not volunteered for anything, looked up from his camera bag, eyes wide.
Harper’s eyebrows shot up so fast it was almost comical.
Henry frowned. “Andrew’s already paired with Marcy for cleanup. Tilly, you’re with Savannah.”
“I can switch,” Tilly said immediately. Neutral. Polite. Too polite.
Savannah shook her head quickly. “No. It’s fine. I can take someone else.”
“Tilly and Savannah on the riverfront,” Henry said, done with the conversation. “Andrew with Marcy, Harper, and Drew on council. Let’s move.”
The meeting dissolved.
Savannah tried to slip away before anyone noticed the tension. She made it about three steps.
Harper was on her instantly.
She grabbed Savannah’s sleeve and pulled her behind a row of cubicles like she was detaining a suspect.
“What,” Harper whispered sharply, “the hell was that?”
Savannah blinked. “What was what?”
Harper stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “Savannah. You two were acting like strangers trying to avoid eye contact at a funeral.”
Savannah swallowed. “I’m just tired.”
“No,” Harper said. “You are not tired. You and Tilly were both doing weird formal voices. You sounded like interns pretending to be adults.”
Savannah straightened her shoulders. “It’s really nothing.”
“Oh my god,” Harper hissed. “Something happened between you two!”
Savannah tightened her grip on her rundown sheet. “Harper, please drop it.”
“No,” Harper said. “Because you’re calling me Harper instead of Harp. Which means your anxiety is at DEFCON 2.”
Savannah stared at her. “I’m fine.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” Harper said gently. “I won’t push. But I’m not buying it.”
Savannah’s breath hitched.
Harper tapped her arm in passing. “Just… be honest with yourself, okay? Whatever this is, it’s not nothing.”
She walked toward the studio, curls bouncing with each step.
Savannah turned toward her desk, pulse thrumming, feeling more exposed than she had in days.
Across the newsroom, Tilly lifted a camera bag and slung it over their shoulder.
Their eyes met hers for a fraction of a second.
Then both looked away.
Savannah forced her attention back to her computer, hands shaking slightly.
Today was going to be brutal.