Chasing the Story

by Shira Anthony

  “But this…. I couldn’t hack it. I ran when I should have stayed and nailed that bastard.”

  Brand brushed his fingers over Zach’s cheek. “I don’t see you as a victim.”

  “You see me as a hero. A mentor. Someone to look up to.”

  “I did,” Brand agreed. “But that’s not why I’m here. And it’s not how I see you now.”

  Zach didn’t look convinced, but that was okay. Brand was just happy they were talking. “Thing is, I wanted the job so badly… I thought I could handle him.” Zach looked out at the harbor again. “Then he put his hand on me and I knew… I just knew that this was the way it worked. In spite of all I’d done, it came down to power. And he had it all.”

  Brand put his hand over Zach’s. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He didn’t know what else to say, and nearly everything he’d said up until that point had seemed to make things worse.

  “Be patient with me?”

  “Always. I’m not going anywhere. I promise, I’ll be right here. We take this as fast or slow as you want. And if you don’t want more than friendship, I’m still here.”

  “I meant what I said the other night.” Zach offered him a gentle smile. “I want this.”

  The ferry pulled in a moment later. Brand was relieved he didn’t have to respond. He’d have just said something silly and romantic anyhow, and he wanted to give Zach as much space as he could.

  “I ATE too much.” Brand leaned back in his chair. At Zach’s suggestion, they’d grabbed dinner on the way back from the ferry landing. Brand hadn’t expected Zach would want to spend more time together, let alone at his place. But what happened on the beach that afternoon seemed to open a door Zach had long ago locked, and he seemed relaxed. Even happy.

  Zach chuckled as Arlo, who’d been circling, now hopped onto the chair next to his and waited. “He’s eyeing the cheese,” Zach confirmed. “He loves to lick the grease off.”

  “Who knew cats liked pizza?” He picked Arlo up and begin to scratch under his chin.

  “He’s never let anyone but me do that, you know.”

  “Glad to hear it. I’m your best bud now, right, Arlo?” Arlo purred in Brand’s ear. Zach yawned and stretched.

  Brand set the cat back down. “I should probably get going.” He didn’t want to overstay his welcome, especially after he’d fucked things up earlier.

  “Do you need to be somewhere?” Zach closed the pizza box and put it in the fridge.

  “No, but—”

  “Stay at little longer?” Zach circled his arms around Brand’s waist.

  “Yes. Of course.” He didn’t want to leave, but he didn’t want to push Zach. Brand sighed and relaxed into the touch. This was the last thing he’d expected after he opened his big mouth on Bald Head.

  “Hey.” Zach put his hands to Brand’s face and looked directly into Brand’s eyes. “What happened today?”

  Brand nodded.

  “I’m not angry. I…. It’s hard to explain. It’s been there, hiding in my brain… I dealt with it by lying to myself. All you did was point out what I’d tried to blot out.”

  “It wasn’t my place.” Even now, Brand’s chest ached with the knowledge that he’d caused Zach pain.

  “Maybe not.” Zach chuckled and shook his head. “But I like the way you do things because you feel it’s right. All those years I spent in New York, I hated the bullshit. People sucking up to you because they thought it’d get them somewhere, pretending they cared when most of them didn’t give a fuck… if you peeled away the veneer, there was shit underneath.”

  “Was everyone like that?”

  “No.” Zach drew a long breath. “There were good people too. Like Karen Lester and Kevin McCartney.”

  “Karen told me she misses you.”

  Zach smiled sadly. “There aren’t many things I really miss about Manhattan, but she’s one of them. I’ve started so many emails to her… I’ve never finished a single one. I heard she left the city to take a job in Jersey.”

  “She told me she couldn’t deal with the bullshit. After you left, she left too.” He leaned in and kissed Zach. “I told her you were happy here, running the paper.” He looked away, wishing he could take it all back.

  Zach ran a fingertip over Brand’s lips, causing Brand to shiver. “I meant what I said at the docks. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like anyone cared about me enough to stick his neck out.”

  “My mom says I became a reporter because I wanted to save the world.” He smiled, although the admission made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t anyone’s savior. He just cared. Sometimes too much.

  “You can’t care too much.”

  He stared at Zach. “Am I that obvious?”

  Zach shook his head. “No. I’ve just spent enough time watching you hold back. Even with me. The look on your face when you asked me out that first time… you couldn’t help yourself, but you doubted yourself at the same time.”

  “That’s me.” Even now, he doubted himself. But there was no way he was walking away from Zach.

  Zach kissed Brand, a gentle kiss that put Brand at ease. Brand figured that was the point. Zach’s revelation about his past hadn’t changed the essence of him, beneath the mountain of pain and regret. Zach still reminded him of the man who’d pointed him in the right direction all those years ago.

  “Don’t stop doing the things you think are crazy,” Zach said after the kiss ended. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

  Brand’s cheeks heated, but this time he didn’t look away. “I don’t want to rush you. This—us, tonight—it goes the way you want it.”

  “Thanks.” Zach smiled and shook his head. “I know you’re worried about me, but you don’t need to be. I trust you. It’s one of the things I like about you—how solid you are. Honest. Protective, even if I don’t really need to be protected.”

  The last of Brand’s hesitation and guilt evaporated, and he took Zach in his arms and held him. Zach’s body relaxed into Brand’s.

  “Stay with me tonight? All night?” Zach spoke the words so softly, they didn’t immediately register. “To be honest, I’m too tired to think of anything else but sleep at the moment, but—”

  “I’d love to stay.” Brand wanted to stay with Zach—he wanted to be close to him. The invitation felt good. Like he’d been traveling down a really long, meandering road and he could finally see his destination on the horizon. Zach was finally ready to let him into his life.

  Brand took Zach’s outstretched hand and followed him into the bedroom. He smiled when he saw the same mid-century modern furniture here as in the rest of the apartment. The platform bed had simple, modern lines and was made of warm teak, with nightstands attached on either side that appeared to float over the floors. Over the bed was a series of classic black-and-white Ansel Adams photographs of waves breaking on the beach.

  “You like Adams?” Zach must have noticed he’d been eyeing the artwork.

  Brand nodded. “These make me feel like I’m barefoot in the sand. Calm, at peace with the universe.”

  “I studied photography in college. I loved working in black and white.” He chuckled and added, “Not that I’d hang anything I ever did on my wall.”

  “I’m sure you’re better than you let on.”

  Zach shrugged, then pulled Brand against him. “I’d forgotten how much I love the beach. Thanks for suggesting a day off.”

  “It didn’t go exactly the way I’d planned.”

  “Life never does.” Zach traced his fingers over Brand’s chin and smiled. “But sometimes that’s for the best.”

  Five minutes later they slid beneath the covers and settled down to sleep. “I’m glad you asked me to stay.” Brand spooned against Zach and kissed his neck. Like the calm after the storm, it felt peaceful. Easy.

  Zach yawned and relaxed onto the pillow. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ZACH AWOKE to sunlight streaming in through his bedroom wind
ow. The clock on his nightstand read 9:12. Shit. He’d overslept. It was Saturday, and there wasn’t anything more pressing than usual to get done. Still, he made it a point to keep a regular schedule every day except Sunday.

  He padded into the kitchen to make himself coffee and breakfast and found coffee waiting and a note telling him breakfast was in the oven. Score ten points in the way-to-get-into-my-heart department. Of course, Brand had already made some serious inroads. A good night’s sleep had been high on Zach’s wish list, and spending the night in Brand’s arms had done the trick.

  Arlo rubbed against his ankles. “I know. You like him too.” Zach opened a can of cat food and emptied it onto a plate, then set it on the floor.

  Zach’s phone vibrated. He pulled it out of his pocket and read the text message.

  Hope you slept well. I’m joining a few friends for drinks tonight. Interested?

  Zach began to type, Sorry, I…, then deleted the words. For the longest time he stared at the screen. He’d spent the past five years running from the memories. He’d told himself he was happy by himself. But Brand’s words from the night before still echoed in his thoughts. “I’m not going anywhere, Zach. I promise, I’ll be right here. We take this as fast or slow as you want. And if you don’t want more than friendship, I’m still here.”

  Nothing would change unless he made a conscious effort to make the change. Safe and warm at Brand’s side the night before, he’d felt good. In the moment, he hadn’t doubted that sensation. But now…. Committing to something more than friendship with Brand felt like leaning over the edge of a cliff to get a better view of the river below. Precarious. Exciting.

  He took a deep breath and typed, I’d like that. When and where?

  Craven’s on Front. Six thirty?

  See you then. Zach set the phone on the counter and realized his heart was pounding and his hands were icy.

  Great. See you then.

  Zach opened the french doors onto the balcony and wiped down the table. Then he retrieved the breakfast Brand left for him—a veggie and cheese omelet with a side of bacon—and set it outside, along with the mug of coffee he’d poured. He inhaled a long breath of slightly salty air and smiled.

  Twenty minutes later Zach pulled out his laptop and looked through the list of developments that had sustained damage in the last two hurricanes. Most of the houses suffered the typical storm damage he’d expected to see. One neighborhood near the mouth of the Cape Fear, however, had reports of serious damage to half a dozen homes, including two situated several rows back from the shore. He flagged these to discuss with Brand and check against the inspection records.

  Arlo hopped onto the keyboard. Zach laughed and scooped up the cat.

  “Trying to tell me something?”

  Arlo yawned and purred as Zach scratched under his chin.

  “I know, I know. It’s a beautiful day. I don’t have to work.” Zach sighed and shut the computer. Had he really agreed to meet Brand’s friends for drinks? “I’m an idiot.”

  He glanced down at Arlo, who looked back at him with eyes that seemed to say, Of course you’re an idiot.

  “Okay. No more work for today.” He’d go down to the gym and lift some weights, then spend some quality time cleaning the apartment. “It’s not going to clean itself,” he told the cat.

  When he finally brought everything inside—including Arlo—he noticed a small stack of papers on the far edge of the counter. The numbers he’d run for the purchase of the River Watch. He’d sat on them for nearly a month after he’d gotten word that BeaconCorp was willing to discuss selling.

  You can’t avoid making a decision forever.

  Rick Greenburg was gone. So why was he still hesitating to draw up an offer?

  Because buying the paper means losing your safety net. If things tanked right now, he’d be out of a job, but his savings wouldn’t be on the line. The numbers worked, but only if he invested every penny he had other than what he’d already paid on the mortgage for the condo.

  “At least we won’t be homeless,” he told Arlo, who had settled on top of the blanket on the couch.

  It wasn’t just about the money, though. He needed to be honest with himself. Leaving New York and his career there behind felt like a failure. He wasn’t sure he could handle another.

  He eyed the papers again and sighed. “I can do this.” He grabbed his laptop and sat at the kitchen counter. He’d reach out to the editors of the local papers in Greensville, Morehead City, and a few others in the area and get a feel for whether working together might help the bottom line.

  For the first time in a long time, moving forward with his career plans—and his life—felt like a real possibility.

  BRAND’S BRIGHT smile greeted Zach as he walked over to the table at the back of the bar that night. “Zach, meet Kendra. Kendra Marks, Zach Caldwell. Kendra’s my director.”

  “Good to meet you, Kendra.” Zach shook her hand. “I’ve been following Brand’s series on post-Florence cleanup. Excellent work, both of you.”

  Her eyes grew wide and she grinned. “I… that means a lot coming from you. Thank you.”

  Brand blushed. Zach made a mental note to be more forthcoming with his praise. Brand was talented, and he needed to hear it.

  “And you know Jesse,” Brand said.

  “Nice to see you again, Zach.” Jesse shook Zach’s hand. “How’s the shoulder?”

  “Doing fine.” Zach sat next to Brand. “Sorry I’m running late.”

  “No worries. Jesse only got here a few minutes before you,” Kendra said.

  “We had a report of suspicious activity over at the port,” Jesse put in. “I was the closest to respond.”

  “Anything come of it?” Brand asked just as Zach was about to do the same.

  “I keep forgetting who I’m talking to.” Jesse chuckled and shook his head. “False alarm. Move along, folks.”

  Kendra snorted. “Can’t fault the guy for trying.”

  Brand waved down the waiter, and they ordered a round of drinks and appetizers. Zach, whose anxiety level had been at red alert from the moment he walked into the bar, found himself relaxing a bit with the comfortable banter.

  “Congratulations on the award, Zach,” Kendra said as the waiter delivered their drinks and a plate piled high with wings. “I read the series. Made me wish we’d had someone like Brand on the job when the first report of groundwater contamination came in.”

  “The newspaper business isn’t what it used to be.” Zach picked up his whiskey and swirled the amber liquid around. “We have to jump before you TV folks snatch up the stories.”

  “Brand mentioned you used to be in broadcast news,” Jesse said.

  Zach nodded. Next to him, Brand visibly tensed. “A few years back.” Beneath the table, he put a reassuring hand on Brand’s thigh. “It’s a different world from running a newspaper.”

  “Which do you prefer?” Kendra waited for an answer with an intensity that felt something like awe.

  “They both have their good points.” Zach sipped his drink, then set it down again. “I’m not sure I could choose.” He glanced at Brand, who gazed back at him with obvious surprise. “But it’s not about choices. It’s about where you end up, right?”

  “We’re happy you ended up here.” Jesse picked up a wing and pointed it in Zach’s direction. “Before you came, there was talk of the River Watch shutting down.”

  “I’m hoping that won’t happen. Subscriptions are up, and we’re working on our ad base.” Zach took another, longer drink, and the tension in his shoulders eased. “I just hired a new reporter, and I’m hoping his work’ll help us get a few stories featured in one of BeaconCorp’s nationally syndicated magazines.”

  “Reed Barfield,” Jesse said.

  “Yes. Have you met him?” Zach asked.

  “During Hurricane Florence. Gave him and Justin Vance a ride back to town,” Jesse replied. “The two of them—”

  The sound of a table crashing onto th
e floor drowned out Jesse’s words. A woman near their table gasped and chairs squeaked against the wood floor as a couple of guys near the bar got to their feet. The bar grew eerily quiet as patrons tried to figure out what was going on.

  Then someone banged on the bar and Zach noticed a man standing in front of the bartender, leaning over the bar in an obvious attempt to intimidate. “I asked for another beer,” the man shouted, his voice echoing through the high-ceilinged room, “not a fucking lecture.”

  “Sir,” the bartender replied, “I’m cutting you off. If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.”

  Jesse stood and told Kendra, “Do me a favor and call dispatch. Better safe than sorry.”

  Zach and Brand followed him over to the bar with Kendra at their heels, phone to her ear. The man who’d been shouting took his empty bottle and hit it on the edge of the overturned table right as Jesse arrived. The glass shattered at the man’s feet.

  “Excuse me.” Jesse pulled out his badge. “I understand you’re upset, but you’re disturbing the customers. Is there something I can help you with?”

  The man whirled around to face Jesse, his face nearly as red as his fiery hair. “Who the hell are you?” Even from where Zach stood, he could smell the alcohol on the man.

  Jesse paled and, for a long moment, seemed frozen where he stood. Then, in a voice that resonated with shocked surprise, he said, “Noah? Is that you?”

  Noah laughed. “Oh, this is priceless. Mr. Perfect Cop is here to make sure all the citizens of this piece-of-shit town are okay. Aren’t you, Officer Freeman?”

  Jesse’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he didn’t cede his ground. “Why don’t we take this outside, and I’d be happy to listen—”

  “I don’t need someone to listen to me, Officer. What I need is another fucking beer!” Noah walked over to the bar and banged his fist on the counter.