I've Got This Read online

  He leans back against the couch, still holding my hands, and sighs. “I don’t know what to think,” he admits. “It’s—all just going around in my head.” He meets my gaze, and those normally cheerful blue eyes are a haze of confusion.

  “That’s okay.” I feel much more in control now, much more confident in the situation. Derek loves me. He’s not shutting me out because he doesn’t want to share with me, because he doesn’t want me in his life forever. I knew that, of course, but that part of me that doubted just couldn’t be silenced. It’s okay, though. He just doesn’t know how to share, isn’t confident that people care.

  So I need to show him I care. That I’ll care no matter what.

  “It can be hard dealing with feelings,” I continue. “Sometimes it’s easier to ignore them, lock them away and pretend they don’t exist. But I can tell you from experience that they won’t go away, and I’m here, Derek. I love you. I always want to listen to you, I always want to take part in your life. I want to share the good things and the bad things, because anything I can do to make your life easier, or better, or anything is what I want.” I lean back against the couch, beside him, pressing the length of my body against his. He’s warm and solid, and just feeling him beside me is a comfort after the stress of the hellishly long day. “Why don’t we go to bed, cuddle, get a good night’s sleep? Tomorrow is a new day, and everything will seem different. You have a lot to think about and I think you need to give yourself some time to decompress.”

  He slumps against my shoulder, turns his head, and kisses my neck, but otherwise doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. Have I pushed too far? Should I prod him? Just sit here with him in silence, or get up and leave him to have some alone time?

  I’m in an agony of doubt, wishing my old therapist were here to give me some advice, when Derek whispers, “I can’t lose this job.”

  I close my eyes, swamped with relief but at the same time aching for him.

  “I know,” I whisper back, but don’t turn. His face is still against my neck, and I figure it might be easier for him this way—an illusion of privacy.

  “I love it here, Trav. Really love it. I love my park. I love my resorts. I could work in hospitality anywhere, for any company, but that’s not what I want. I want the dream come true. I want to see the little kids have a magical experience, and to see the pride their parents feel at being able to give it to them. I want to see the adults who always wanted to come here, who spent years planning and saving to give themselves this experience, and then get here and finally get to take part in the magic after wanting to all their lives. I love knowing that what I do makes all that possible. I love knowing that my staff are the most productive, that they have the highest satisfaction index, that my district is the most profitable and has the best customer feedback rating. I love knowing that I work damn hard”—his voice starts to rise—“but that it’s worth it because it makes people happy. And I hate that some stupid bitch who murdered her husband thinks she can shit all over that to distract a fucking jury, and worse is that it’s working and she’s fucking with people being happy, with me being happy, with my fucking life!” There’s anger in his voice now, and he’s almost shouting, but I can also feel the hot wetness of tears against my skin.

  I turn then, not just my head, but my whole body, curling into him and wrapping my arms around him. A sob breaks from his throat as he presses harder against me. I hold him, kiss his hair, and hide my own tears from him. “Stupid bitch” is right, and I wish with all my might that Kylie Rutherford will be sent to prison for the rest of her life. I also make a mental note to talk to a lawyer. I want to sue her for what she’s putting Derek through; I want to strip away any last remaining iota of dignity she might have left after her criminal trial.

  Derek and I stay cuddled together like that for a long time, so long that I begin to wonder if he’s fallen asleep, and feel a little drowsy myself. It’s been a long day, both in terms of hours and emotional wear and tear.

  Eventually he shifts, lifting his head and sitting up. I inch back a tiny bit, a silent offer of space if he wants to take it, but he captures my hand and hangs on.

  “Thank you,” he says, his voice a little rough. His eyes are slightly puffy and definitely red-rimmed, and he looks tired and worn-out, but there’s a sense of lightness to him that’s been missing the last few days. “I… never realized how good it could feel to….” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but this is one he doesn’t need to. I nod.

  “I know. And you know I’m here, right? I’m right here.”

  He sighs, squeezes my hand. “I know. I’m sorry I put you through this.” I open my mouth to protest, worried that maybe he didn’t get it quite as well as I thought he did, but he shakes his head. “Not that you listened to me, Trav. That you had to push so hard. That we had to fight. That you spent the whole day stressing over it—because you did, didn’t you?”

  He knows me so well. “Yeah,” I admit. “But you didn’t do this on purpose, babe. This was something you had to learn to do, and I’m so glad I could help you do that—just as I’m glad to share any burden you carry.”

  He smiles softly at me, and it feels like the sun’s just come out. Then he sighs again. “It feels better, knowing I’m not alone… but it doesn’t fix anything, does it?”

  “No,” I concede. “But it’s not like you can fix a lot. The cops said there’s no question about the park or any employee being involved, right?” He nods. “And Kim heard from her friend of a friend of a cousin or whoever that the bitch’s lawyers dumped her after that statement, right, and she had to hire new ones?” Another nod. “So it looks really bad now, but this case is going to be in the media spotlight for a long time. Eventually she’s going to be convicted, and it will show her for the lying, conniving, murdering fiend she is—and people will realize that not only did she murder her husband, she then tried to throw the investigation off by dragging one of the most beloved vacation destinations in the world through the mud. Already there are rumblings in your favor. We just need to hold tight. It’s horrible, but not insurmountable. And I really don’t think you’ll lose your job because of unsubstantiated allegations.”

  “That’s true,” he agrees, surprising me. “They won’t fire me because of her stupid lies. I’ve done nothing wrong. But, Trav, I’ve never in all my time at JU had to post figures as low as last week’s. People are canceling reservations because of this. If it continues, they’ll fire me because my district is underperforming.”

  Fuck. I didn’t think of that.

  “There’s nothing we can do about it tonight,” I finally say. “It’s been a really, really long day. Let’s go to bed, and we can look at this with fresh eyes tomorrow. And if nothing can be done,” I add, forestalling him, “then we’ll consider our options. I know this place is your dream come true, but I’ll bet it wasn’t always, right? You didn’t spend your whole childhood imagining yourself as a theme park administrator?”

  “No,” he concedes reluctantly.

  I stand and tug him up with me. “Exactly. So if we have to, we’ll find your next amazing dream. But we may not have to.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Derek

  WHEN I walk into the office on Monday morning, I’m exhausted. Letting your emotions out really sucks the life from you. And man, it’s like punching a hole in a dam! I spent more time fighting back tears on Sunday than I ever did in my life.

  But Trav was there. He was there, and that pinched look he had last week was gone. I was so afraid that look meant he was disgusted. That he thought I was a loser, incapable of managing my own life.

  Instead, he was just worried about me. Worried that I wasn’t telling him my feelings because I didn’t want him.

  As if that could ever be true.

  Things are good between us now. We spent a lot of time talking, and that was exhausting too. It’s so much easier to just smile and brush things away than it is to think about how they actually make you feel, to
let yourself feel them, and harder still is talking about them. Sometimes I couldn’t actually think of the right words. Trav’s amazing, though, and as hard as yesterday was, as tired and emotionally drained as I am today, there’s a part of me that feels settled and confident that I will survive this. And now that I know how… safe it can feel to share my feelings, I think I maybe need to think about building some closer relationships. One of the things Trav and I talked about was how none of my friends are particularly close to me. There was nobody I felt I could confide in, not even after my breakdown, when I realized it was okay to talk about my feelings.

  So while I’m not my usual bouncy Monday morning self, I’m okay. It’s going to be okay.

  Even if I do have to face the monthly status meeting today.

  Dimi sticks his head around my office door. I waved to him as I arrived, but he was on the phone, and we didn’t speak.

  “All good?” he asks, which is strange.

  “Yeah, why?” Is there something going on I don’t know about?

  He gives me a pointed look, then comes in and shuts the door. “Last week was a shitstorm. I would have said nothing could be shittier, but then I saw Trav’s face on Saturday morning.” He holds up a hand. “Not my business, I know. I just want to know if you’re okay, or if I should run interference and get you some time out of the office today.”

  Those damn tears I’ve been fighting for the last thirty hours prick the backs of my eyes again, and I swallow hard. “Dimi, I’m okay. Trav doesn’t have that look on his face anymore, and no matter what comes out of last week’s debacle, I’m going to be okay. Thank you, though. You’ve been a good friend to me.” It’s true, I realize. I’ve always been so careful to keep things “work friendly” between us, but Dimi has been more of a friend to me than any of my so-called high school and college “best friends.”

  He gives me a level look, as if assessing whether I’m bullshitting him, and I grin. Suddenly I just want to laugh. “Dimi, I swear, it’s all going to be okay. I know things look rough, but even if I get canned for underperforming—”

  “What?” He sounds startled, and the expression on his face matches. It surprises me, because Dimi’s not dumb—well, you know that. I’ve been telling you all along how brilliant he is. So he’s gotta know it’s not a good thing when profits drop.

  I wait for him to catch on. Eventually it’ll all click together what I’m talking about. I hold his gaze and wait.

  And wait.

  Any second now.

  We’re just staring at each other.

  It’s getting kind of awkward.

  Why isn’t he catching on?

  Why am I just staring?

  I shake my head sharply, breaking the stare. “C’mon, Dimi, you know how things work here. Profit is king. Sure, we need strong guest-satisfaction ratings, but profitability goes hand-in-hand with that—and right now, our district has neither.”

  He nods. “Sure, but I doubt corporate will fire the entire JU management team at once. This is clearly a JU issue, not a district one, and it’s temporary.”

  Come again?

  He must see my confusion because he whips out his ever-present tablet and taps away as he crosses the office toward me. “You obviously saw our figures for last week,” he begins.

  “Of course.” Even though I didn’t want to, I made myself check them. They were just as abysmal as I’d thought they would be. I get up from my chair and join him where he’s standing beside the desk. He turns the tablet toward me.

  “Did you look at the figures for everyone else?”

  The words hang in the air between us as I stare at the numbers on the screen. I didn’t look at the figures for the other districts—that’s unusual for me, but at the time I couldn’t bear to see the difference between us and everyone else. I definitely hadn’t looked at the ranking. Normally my district is at the top. If one of the other parks or resorts has a killer promotion on, I might come in second. But since the seventh month after I was promoted to AD, my district has not been out of the top two positions.

  And it still isn’t.

  I blink at the screen. My throat is suddenly tight. Last week’s figures are abysmal… for all of JU. This is not about my district. This is not about me. This is about a stupid woman who murdered her husband and is trying to muddy the waters. I can’t believe I didn’t realize that. I can’t believe I let myself get so fucked-up that my business brain stopped working.

  My knees give out, and I drop into an undignified heap on the carpet. Dimi makes a strangled noise. “Are you okay?” He crouches beside me.

  I focus on him, slightly dazed. “Trav said it. He said this wasn’t on me. And logically I knew he was right, but… he’s right. This is not a management issue. This is an external influence.”

  Dimi tilts his head and looks at me, then leans back slightly so he drops to sit on his ass. He crosses his legs in front of him like a schoolkid. “That’s right. This is an external influence. It’s up to PR and legal to spin this. Our job is to keep things running the way they always do.”

  Confidence surges through me again, but this time there’s no exhaustion behind it. My mind is clear, completely clear for the first time since I got that damn call from Kim nearly five days ago. I’m still who I’ve always been—damn good at my job, confident, capable, and now I have a secret weapon in the form of Trav. I’ve totally got this.

  “Thanks, Dimi.” I scramble up off the floor and offer him a hand up. “Numbers are down because of this bullshit. PR and legal will do their bit to neutralize the damage, but in the meantime, we need to be looking at ways to attract new guests—maybe ones who wouldn’t have come under normal circumstances.” Repeating it makes it real, solid. I feel energized. This is my forte.

  Dimi grins. “Do you want a brainstorming session?”

  I nod as I pace over to the window. My view is out toward the park, but I can’t actually see it—just parking lot and trees. “Yeah. For early afternoon, I think. Ask evarketing—”

  He shouts with laughter, and I belatedly realize what I’ve said.

  “Oops.” I shoot him a sly glance. “This stays between us, right?”

  He wipes moisture from his eyes. “Of course. But… how long have you been calling them that, and why did I never know?”

  I shrug. “Not that long. And it’s not exactly good form to rename departments, so….” I spread my hands, then grin. “It suits them, though, doesn’t it?”

  He’s tapping at his tablet, grinning broadly. “It really does. Okay, I’ll ask the events and marketing teams to send reps.”

  There’s a hard knock, and we both turn just as the door is shoved open and Gina rushes in, slamming it closed behind her. Her face is pale and she’s wild-eyed.

  Fuck.

  “Gina, what’s wrong?” I ask, crossing to her.

  “Corporate’s here,” she gasps. I feel a momentary twinge of worry, but it’s overtaken by confusion. I exchange a glance with Dimi.

  “Okay. Well, it’s not shocking—there’s a lot going on, and it’s not unusual for them to send someone out when we have a big legal issue. I was kind of surprised they didn’t come last week.” I take her arm and lead her toward one of my visitor chairs. “Sit for a minute. Do you want some water?” Is something else going on with her that I’ve been too preoccupied to notice? Gina is normally a rock in the midst of a storm, but she seems really shaken.

  She pulls away from me. “Not a rep. Not someone from legal or PR. Corporate—Malcolm Joy and Seth Holder. And some others.”

  Oh.

  She’s staring at me expectantly now, and my mind is racing.

  “It’s okay,” I say finally. “It just means they’re giving this more weight than we expected.” Or they’re planning to fire the entire management team.

  I shake that thought away. I have no reason to believe it’s true.

  “Where are they now?” I ask Gina. She seems to be settling down a little in the face of my calm. />
  “Boardroom. They went straight in with Ken as soon as they arrived.”

  “Has anyone said anything about the monthly status meeting?” Dimi asks. Most of his attention is focused on his tablet—he’s probably checking for any relevant memos… or gossip. The JU staff app is supposed to be for work, but it functions well for circulating “news.”

  Gina opens her mouth to answer, but her words are drowned out by the buzz of the phone on my desk. We all turn to stare at it. I literally cannot remember the last time it rang—nobody uses the landline anymore, when we all know the quickest way to reach each other is via cell phone or the app.

  Dimi pulls himself together first, crosses to the desk, and snatches up the cordless receiver. “Derek Bryer’s office,” he says briskly. “Yes. Absolutely. No problem. Thank you.” He puts the handset down as I wonder when he lost the ability to speak in full sentences. I mean, really, would it have hurt him to repeat some of the caller’s comments, give us a hint?

  “Well?” Gina demands, clearly thinking along the same lines as me.

  Dimi turns to face us. He’s maybe a little bit pale. He has pretty fair skin naturally, so I might just be imagining it. I hope.

  “You’ve been called to attend a meeting with corporate and the rest of the executive management team,” he says. “I’m to clear your schedule for the rest of the day.”