Page 38 of And Now, Back to You

I don’t even know what we’re talking about anymore. Just that there’s a fire in my belly the longer I look at her, welling up and over like a tide. Frustration, maybe. Confusion, likely. Bewilderment, potentially. Probably an odd and distracting combination of all three.

Our knees knock together beneath the desk as I turn fully toward her and that heavy, hot feeling grips me by the throat. When Aiden said participate, I’m not sure he meant like this.

“Are you bringing the doughnut on the trip?”

“I wasn’t planning on it, but now I might. Now, maybe all of my reporting will be done from inside the doughnut.”

“Good segue, guys.” Aiden throws another pen at my head, but this one goes sailing two inches past my temple. “Jackson and Delilah will be covering the storm from Garrett County. You can expect live broadcasts on conditions and any relevant, up-to-date information including how the snowfall is looking for those doughnut sleds.” Aiden grins. “Our boy is leaving us for the big leagues, Baltimore.”

“I wouldn’t say that. We’re just—” I nudge my glasses with my knuckles. “We’re taking a trip. For the—for the snow. We’re going to tell you everything you need to know about . . .” My voice drifts. Delilah stares at me.

“Snow,” she finishes for me when my mouth continues to move soundlessly. “We’re going to tell you everything you need to know about the snow. That’s right. But for now, Baltimore, back to you.”

She shoots me a subtle thumbs-up and I want to hurl myself through the glass wall of this soundproof booth.

“Excellent. On that note, we’re going to cut to our first song. Stay tuned, everyone.” “Winter Wonderland” by Harry Connick Jr. starts to trickle through the headphones as Aiden taps his way across his keyboard. He wrenches his off and tosses them on top of an empty cookie box he forgot to clear. “That was good, you guys.”

I drop my forehead to the middle of the desk and keep it there. “Which part? The part where I couldn’t remember the word for snow?”

“It’s an improvement over you yelling about the snow.”

I roll my head to the side against my notes, squinting blearily at Delilah. I feel like I’ve just gone seven rounds and lost every one. “Do you really have a doughnut inner tube in your house?”

“Of course I do. I don’t lie about doughnut sleds.” She offers me a tentative smile. “Should I bring it on our trip?”

“No.” I think about it. “Actually, maybe. I can use it to sled directly into Deep Creek Lake when the broadcast starts going south.”

“While I’d pay good money to see that, I think you’re going to do just fine. Apparently, all I need to do is find something to antagonize you about during each broadcast until you forget about your weather rambles. That seemed to work, didn’t it?”

“I guess,” I grumble. I was so distracted by Delilah, I forgot to be nervous. I frown and the paper beneath my cheek crinkles. “I really don’t know why Maggie wants me to do this.”

“Because no one knows weather systems better than you, with the exception of the woman sitting to your right,” says a voice from the doorway. Maggie is wedged in the half-open door of the booth, tapping at her phone with a weary look on her face. “And because I need the win.”

“What is it?” I ask.

She slips her phone back into her pocket. “Orion,” she says. “They’re still interested in our programming.” She pauses and presses two fingers to the middle of her forehead. “They’ve upped the price again.”

The satellite giant has been after our station for two years now, and they’ve only gotten more aggressive after the runaway success of Heartstrings last February. For some reason, they want our programming, and they’re not inclined to take no for an answer. Maggie has been doing her part to push back against their advances, determined to keep our little station local. But Orion has been throwing Hail Marys to the tune of six-figure acquisition deals. Our ownership team has started paying attention.

“If Orion gets their hands on us, we’ll turn into segmented programming. They’d bleed everything local out of us until we’re just another husk of Top 40 hits. But if I can make the case to ownership that local content still performs well, then—”

“Then maybe they’ll finally tell Orion to shove it,” Aiden summarizes.

“You got it.” Maggie’s eyes find mine. “And there’s nothing more local than a freakishly strong snowstorm, barreling straight toward us. If we can prove that we can keep the lights on ourselves without whatever snake oil Orion is selling, we should be able to shut them up once and for all. But we’ve gotta back it up with strong numbers.”

My hands flex on the headphones until the plastic creaks. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Delilah shift. “No pressure, then.”

Maggie’s face softens. “You’re brilliant, Jackson. I wouldn’t put you in this position if I didn’t have full confidence in you. Try to enjoy it, yeah? Try to have some fun.”

There’s that word again. Fun. It scratches at the inside of my skull until my shoulders pull tight. I’ve never had much use for fun. I’ve relied on practical, predictable, probable, and logical. The best path forward has always been the one I can clearly see laid out in front of me in perfectly manageable steps.

But that hasn’t exactly served me well. I think somewhere along the way, I got so settled in my routines and habits and plans that now I’m trapped by them. They twist around me like vines, holding me in place. Keeping me from moving forward.

The damned garden gate, sealed shut.

I don’t want to be like this.

“We can do that,” Delilah says. She offers me another careful smile. “We can pull it off. Right, Jackson?”