Page 56 of It Happened Again

Maisy—

Behold, The Maisy Survival Kit. Today is your special day, and because I know you so well, you’ll be high on anxiety. Don’t worry. Don’t stress. You’ve got this, babe. And I’ll be right there in the front row, you’re biggest cheerleader and number one fan.

—B

I wanted to cry. Oh, God. All the heartache of last night rushed back. I pushed away the one person who meant the most to me. Brooks had been nothing but caring, kind, and patient. He listened and learned about my world and applied them to my every day life, knowing exactly what I needed and when.

But I pushed him away. I couldn’t say if he’d really be there in the front row tonight or not. Who would blame him if he wasn’t?

I sent him a text. Called him and left a voicemail. And sent another text, hoping he’d reach out to me. I wanted him with me tonight.

Because once tonight was over, I’d go back to being just little old me. The small town girl from Holly Creek. The woman with a lot of lessons to learn about balancing life, work, and love. If he’d only show up tonight, I’d promise to let him in, and give this one more try again.

I dabbed at my tears, sniffling, and reached for one of the programs. On the cover was a photo of me, standing at this verywindow, arms folded, sunlight behind me. I looked confident and proud.

Under the title of the event, the Buchanan name appeared prominently as the sponsors. Everyone I loved would be attending tonight, mom, Chelsea and Rex, Vivian and Richard and even little Paris, Sophie, too—everyone but Brooks.

I squeezed my eyes shut against the rising emotions over our fallout last night. Everything threatened to hit at once from regret for the things I said to simply longing for him to hold me, to be here, to share in this victory which was as much his as mine. If he’d call me back, I’d apologize, even if he might not forgive me. I wouldn't blame him, but he should be here tonight. This was as much his victory as mine.

Inside the program, a photo of Patterson with the Buchanans appeared, only this one included Miriam and her husband Mr. Astor. The caption praised the family for their generous donations as benefactors of Orion.

The middle of the program contained the schedule for the evening but one thing immediately caught my eye.

My heart sank.

Julian Thorne. Listed as the opening speaker. The one to introduce me.

Despite the sensory room, fury buzzed in my ears. No one had asked. No one had told me. If they had, I would’ve said no. Absolutely not. He had no place in this moment.

Would I never be free of him?

Still gripping the program, I stormed up the stairs to Julian’s office. When I reached it, the lights were off, but the door was cracked. I pushed it open and stepped inside. He wasn't there, so I'd wait. I paced as the adrenaline pumped through me. How had this happened? This was supposed to bemine. My night.

I turned toward his desk, desperate for answers. I gasped at what I saw. His computer screen was still active, displayinga colorful graph. One I knew too well. A graph from my presentation.

I stepped closer. My entire presentation and findings appeared there. I'd only sent this to Dr. Stone and Dr. Patterson. But there was one major difference. Julian's name topped the document. Mine was second, listed as a collaborator.

“What the?—?”

My mind dizzied, heart hammering. And just like that, I was back on the ship. The final night before everything changed…

It had been a long day aboard the research vessel—turbulent seas and turbulent tempers. I was hunched over my laptop in the ship's lab, headphones in, eyes burning as I typed the final paragraphs of my environmental-stimuli stress modulation findings. I’d been fine-tuning the data all week, building and layering it with other metrics I'd been quietly developing for months.

This was it. My idea from start to finish, and what I'd base my graduate thesis on. The one Julian had encouraged—tentatively at first, but with more enthusiasm after our last team review.

“There you are. Diligently working even on our last night on board?” Julian’s voice floated in, too warm and too casual for the fatigue settling into her spine. He carried with him a bottle of champagne and two paper cups. "You're something else Maisy Calhoun. You always impress me."

"What's this?" I glanced up, removing one earbud, then took the cup he held out. He poured and filled it almost to the top with the bubbly liquid, and took the seat next to mine.

"You missed the crew party. So I thought we could have our own celebration. Cheers. You were incredible this entire cruise." The praise in his voice resonated.

I touched my cup to his and sipped. "Thank you. I couldn't have had a better time, mostly due to you and your mentorship."

"Friendship.As of tomorrow, you're no longer my student, no longer working for me... I'd say that graduates us to a new level, don't you?" As his hand reached out for me knee I saw it coming, and shifted fast in my seat, facing back to my laptop. My mind raced. After all of this, was there a price to pay for his attention?

"Um, yes.Friends." I scrambled, regretting now how close we'd become, but you can't spend a year and a half in close quarters like this and not because the closes of friends. But something about his advances felt off.

I shifted my laptop for him to see my work. "And asfriends,I'd like to share with you thatI’m submitting for the GradSci Annual—there’s a special call for groundbreaking collegiate research. It could be a big opportunity for me."

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