Page 52 of Where You're Planted

For long seconds, he stayed bent over while the rain continued to beat down on the glass. When he finally pushed up to standing again, he dragged a hand down his face and sighed. Tansy swallowed, relieved.

She moved toward him again. “What’s going on, Jack?”

“It’s fucking embarrassing.”

“More embarrassing than getting rescued by boat in a hurricane?”

“It’s a…speaking thing. Publicly.”

“Public speaking?”

He nodded.

“Oh,” she said, truly thrown. “I…don’t understand. When are you speaking in public?”

“In half an hour. The commissioner just dropped it on me. And threatened my job if I go off-message again.”

“What message is that?”

“That this place is fully recovered, even though it’s not.”

Tansy frowned. At the end of his tour earlier, Jack had mentioned their tight budget, and the commissioner had immediately redirected the conversation and then chased down the reporter in the group. She wondered if this speech Jack would now be making was an effort to undo whatever else he must have let slip on that tour.

He was determined not to look at her, or not to let her see him in his agitated state, but she couldn’t keep talking at his back. She slid around in front of him. As soon as he tried to turn away, she grabbed his shoulders firmly and matched his side step, keeping herself directly in his path. He immediately looked to the ceiling. But she could still see the tension notched at his jaw. He was still barely breathing and yet his chest heaved.

“Look at me, Jack.”

He took his sweet time about it. First, he side-eyed her hand on his shoulder. Finally, he cast a pointed glare down his nose at her that said,See? I can look at you.

“What do you usually do to manage this?” Tansy asked.

“Easy. I usuallydon’tgive public speeches.”

She smiled at that bit of snark. “And when you can’t avoid them? Then what?”

He shook his head, and underneath the anger he wore as a near-constant mask, she saw the helplessness gripping him now. “I don’t know,” he said harshly. Then, quieter and palpably weary, “I don’t know. Greta used to do this part.”

“And nowyou’rethe director.”

“Not because I can talk to people.”

“You can talk to people, Jack.”

He frowned and looked to the far end of the greenhouse, where tools lay out on one of the tables.

“Okay,” she said, placating. She slid her hands down his arms to grip his wrists tightly. With a tug, she got his eyes grudgingly back on hers. “Let’s just deal with the next couple minutes. This isyourspace. You’re in control. No one else is coming in here. Because it’s restricted.”

He huffed, and one corner of his mouth quirked, even though she knew he didn’t want to find her funny.

“We’re alone,” she assured him as the rain continued to thrum loudly, falling around them like a veil. “No public in sight.”

He tipped his face, his hazel eyes finding hers, like he was lookingintoher now instead of just complying. Quiet as a confession, he said, “You’re the last person I should be alone with in here.”

She laughed. “Because I stress you out?”

He licked his lips, released a shuddering breath, and dropped his gaze to her hands squeezing his thick wrists. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Fine. That’s fair. But I can help you. Briar has attacks like this.”

---