Page 53 of And Now, Back to You

“I do want to point out, however, that Keith was likely behind the cancellation, and he is an asshole.”

Delilah blows out a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” She picks up her phone and starts tapping with her thumbs.

“I thought we agreed. No yurt.”

“No yurt,” she says. “But I’ve got a friend who works in research at the station. I’m going to have her do some digging.”

“Into Keith?”

She nods, types some more, then sets her phone to the side. “I’m going to see if she can find any evidence he’s deliberately trying to sabotage me at work.” Some of the steel in her eyes melts away, her shoulders slumping. “I don’t know what I’ll do with it if I have it, though.”

“You won’t report him?”

She shakes her head. “Don’t know who I’d report him to. I’ve gone to HR before about his behavior, and he wiggled his way out of repercussions. I think he has some sort of deal with management. He’s cashing in on his early nineties’ celebrity, I guess. Or maybe blackmail. I don’t know.” She rubs her thumb over her eyebrow. “Can we talk about the weather now? I don’t want Keith to distract me from the reason I’m actually here.”

It’s a fair enough point. I tilt my computer screen so she can see it, pointing out the frankly terrifying red blob in the top left corner. The one that’s slowly inching in our direction.

“Winds are picking up. Snowfall estimates too. It’ll hit the hardest at the higher elevations, but everywhere is going to feel it.”

Delilah leans closer, her body pressing against mine. An accident, I’m sure. “I’ve never covered a storm this big. It feels like a lot of responsibility, doesn’t it?”

I blink away from the top of her head. Back to the screen.

“Yeah,” I agree. “It does.”

“Does it make you nervous?”

I shut my laptop and scratch roughly at the back of my head. Take off my glasses and dig my knuckles against my eyes. I feel like one giant, exposed nerve. “Yeah,” I sigh. “It does.”

When I push my glasses back over my face, Delilah is watching me. Her eyes turn mischievous.

“What makes you more nervous? The broadcast, or sharing your room with me?”

“Depends,” I answer slowly. “Do you put your clothes away in the drawers, or leave them in your suitcase?”

She presses her lips together, fighting her laugh. “I think you already know the answer to that question, Jackson.”

GIANNA: How’s weather boy?

DELILAH STEWART: Good!

DELILAH STEWART: Nicer than I expected?

DELILAH STEWART: But very committed to his rules and regulations.

DELILAH STEWART: So.

DELILAH STEWART: The duality of man, I guess.

DELILAH STEWART: We might be friends now.

DELILAH STEWART: He has these flashes of kindness. Like I’m getting to see who he really is. But then it’s gone again. Bundled up. In one of his very utilitarian but cozy-looking sweaters.

DELILAH STEWART: I don’t know.

DELILAH STEWART: Did I tell you we’re sharing a room?

GIANNA: You did not.