Page 10 of Fumbling Forward
“Sure.”
Olivia stands, brushing past me to set her empty mug in the sink, and the faintest trace of her perfume lingers in the air, it’s clean, subtle, and very distracting.
“Ahh, bedroom is down the hall, first room on the right.”
“Goodnight, Storm,” she says softly.
“Goodnight, Rivers.”
When her footsteps fade up the hall, I stare into the dark space she leaves behind, wondering why the quiet suddenly feels heavier and why the one person sent to protect my career might be the only one capable of breaking through the armor I’ve built around it.
Hours later, I roll over and glance at the clock—twelve seventeen.
Dragging myself out of bed, I plant my feet on the floor and wander into the bathroom. A quick shower, then I head downstairs.
The guest room door’s open, but Olivia’s gone.
Disappointment hits harder than it should. I move toward the kitchen, hoping she’s there, but the room’s empty except for a note left on the counter.
Thanks for the bed.
Don’t talk to the press.
I’ll ring you if there’s a problem.
—Olivia
Short. Direct. All business.
Exactly like the woman herself.
I stare at the note for a long moment before folding it and sliding it into my pocket. No idea why I do this, it’s not sentimental, but it feels wrong to just throw it away.
Coffee first. Always coffee.
The machine hums to life, and I lean against the counter, listening to the familiar sound of water heating, grinding, dripping. It’s quiet here. Too quiet. Just the low hum of the fridge and the faint tick of the clock. The kind of quiet that lets your thoughts get loud.
Sitting down with my mug, I grab my phone, check messages, missed calls, and texts.
Great.
I hit speaker and let the first one play while I take a sip.
“Mr. Storm, this is Katie with Channel Eight News. We’d love to get your side of the story regarding the allegations made early this morning—”
Delete.
Next one.
“Hey Carter, it’sThe BlitzPodcast. We’re hoping you can clear the air for your fans. Give us a callback—”
Delete.
Another, from an unfamiliar number.
“You can’t hide forever, Storm! We all saw the video—”
I stab the delete button harder than necessary. My jaw tightens.Video?
