She laughed lightly, stepping closer. "Relax. No ambushes. Just checking in. You've made quite the impression—everyone at the rescue is singing your praises. And the way you handled that rookie out there? Very… unexpected."
I crossed my arms, a damp shirt sticking to my back. "People change."
"Apparently," she said, tilting her head. "You're starting to make me believe it's not just PR."
She pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen like she was scrolling. "That clip of you helping the kid at the rescue? It's making the rounds. Sweet, but not too polished. Very authentic."
She always led with praise. That was her tell—the sugar before the setup.
I didn't answer. Not yet. Because I knew better than to trust Vanessa when she smiled like that. But part of me hoped—for once—she meant it.
She shifted her weight to one heel, perfectly still otherwise, her phone dangling loosely in one hand like she had nowhere urgent to be. I stayed quiet, hands in my pockets now, shoulders angled slightly toward her without realizing it.
She didn't press.
"This place suits you," she said, voice lower now. "Silver Ridge. The rescue. The team. You look... settled."
I gave a half-smile. "Maybe I am."
"I mean it." She looked up at me and studied me like she hadn't already written half the article. "There's something different about you. You're not coasting anymore. You're participating. Showing up."
I felt something tight unwind in my chest. Her words shouldn't matter—but damn if they didn't.
"That's the goal," I said. "Showing up. Not just for the cameras. For real."
She nodded slowly. "And people are noticing. The staff at the rescue, your teammates… even the coaches."
I pressed my back to the cinderblock wall. "They've given me more than I deserve. I'm just trying not to screw it up."
Vanessa tucked her phone into her blazer pocket and folded her arms. "It must be... complicated. Balancing all this with everything going on behind the scenes. Your dad. The land. The optics."
I stiffened, just slightly, but kept my voice even. "It's not complicated. I've got my own opinion. And it doesn't match his."
She raised her brows like she was intrigued. "That can't be easy. Especially with the land being what it is. High-value. Tied to the team. And the rescue, of course."
I shrugged. Tried to stay casual. "There's more to life than flipping lots and maximizing shareholder ROI. Some things are worth protecting."
It sounded fine. Reasonable. Even commendable.
But her smile shifted—just enough.
"That's a strong statement," she said lightly, pulling her phone back out, eyes flicking to the screen for a beat too long.
"That's not a statement," I said. "That's just how I feel."
She didn't answer right away. Just smiled and slipped the phone back in. "You're making yourself clear."
I pushed off the wall, the weight settling back in my chest. I'd said too much. Worse, I'd meant it.
And I had no idea how she was going to use it.
***
The clock read 6:41—not early, not late. I scratched the back of my neck, blinked through the sleep, and pushed out of bed.
In the kitchen, I reached for the blender. Protein powder, frozen bananas, almond butter—whatever looked vaguely healthy went in. The pulse button stuck slightly before kicking in. Sunlight caught the rim of a glass left to dry on the counter.
It was peaceful.
