Page 2 of The Truths We Find

“Only if you’re buying,” I chuckle.

“I got you, babe.”

“Let me shoot Sam a text to let him know I’ll be home late tonight.”

“Yuck. Monogamy. You’re such a good girlfriend.”

I roll my eyes. I know she’s kidding, sort of. Alexa likes to enjoy her freedom, but I’m definitely a relationship kind of person. I pull out my phone and fire off a quick text.

ME:

Going out with Alexa tonight for drinks after work. Be home late. Love you.

SAM:

No worries. I have an extra session at the gym after training. See you at home.

Sam Lincoln and I have been friends since childhood. It was a running joke with our parents that we would grow up and get married. By the time we got to high school, and everyone just naturally assumed we would get together, I only saw him as a brother and my best friend.

When I went to college, only about an hour away from our hometown in Pennsylvania, Sam joined the Marines. He kept getting stationed all over the country, but we still talked as much as we could. No matter how far apart we were, we stayed close. I wasn’t stupid. I knew Sam felt something more than friendship, but he respected that I didn’t see him that way.

Flash forward to after college when we both ended up in San Diego. He got stationed at Camp Pendleton, and I started working here, going through a really bad breakup. Actually, that’s putting it mildly. It was earth shattering. And Sam was there for me during all of it. About a year after processing that, he asked me out. I originally said no because I thought it would be too weird to date my closest friend after all that time. It was actually Alexa who convinced me to go for it. She said she could see the smile on my face any time I talked about him. So, I figured, what the hell?

After an awkward first date, all on my end, things got more comfortable, and we’ve been together for nine years. He’s still my best friend, except for Alexa of course.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see our general manager Bill White walk into the room. He’s an older man, maybe mid-sixties, and knows how to run a proper news station. As much as I kind of hate him right now for passing me over for the promotion, I still respect him. We don’t interact much, but when we do, he always appreciates the team’s hard work. I wish he’d recognize how integral I’ve been to the success he praises, but as I’m coming to find, this business can be thankless.

“Can I have everyone’s attention please,” he yells.

The newsroom suddenly goes quiet and everyone looks towards Mr. White.

“I’m very excited to introduce you all to our newest news director. He comes to us from New York City, where he was the executive producer of our sister station’s local morning show. He’s young, but full of talent and drive, and I know he’s going to make us the number one station in San Diego.”

I roll my eyes. None of us knew who exactly got this job, just that he was from New York. When I was passed over, a lot of us assumed it was for someone older. Now, hearing he’s young just pisses me off even more and sends a fire through me.

I slowly blink and shake my head to focus on Mr. White’s words, but when I hear everyone clapping, I realize I must have missed the big reveal.

Oops.

I turn to the door and the moment I catch a glimpse of my new boss, it’s suddenly eleven years ago.

I’m a senior at Pitt State, and working in a crap coffee shop, waiting for the plumber to show up after closing to fix the dishwasher. I make myself comfortable in one of the corner booths and start studying for the huge test coming up.

Just as I start getting into my textbook, there’s a knock at the front door.

Of course.

With a sigh, I set the book aside and walk over, flipping the lock.

As the door swings open, I freeze. All I can do is stare.

Standing in front of me is, without a doubt, one of the most handsome men I’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s tall. Six-one, maybe six-two, with piercing blue eyes that seem to look right through me. His dark, dirty blond hair is a little messy, like he just ran a hand through it without thinking, and it somehow makes him look even better. His strong jawline and just the right amount of stubble give his face a rugged, almost action-star quality. Combine that with the T-shirt clinging to his muscular frame in all the right places, and I’m so fucked.

“Hi.” He smiles. “I’m Gavin, here to fix the dishwasher.”

Nothing comes out of my mouth. Words, Dani. Use your words.

He chuckles, never dropping his grin. “And you are?”