Maybe I was being too sensitive. Nothing had happened. He couldn’t be upset with me. Maybe he was just distracted, thinking about the remodel next door.
It was coming along. Painting with him had been fun and we’d gotten a lot done. It was amazing how much different it looked from the first time I’d seen it. Now it had most of the flooring, new windows and doors, baseboards and trim. I couldn’t wait to see the kitchen when it was finished. It was going to be gorgeous.
I pushed my plate to the side, brought my laptop closer, and turned it on. Despite my plucky attitude when I’d talked to Sandra about my job, I was worried. What if Lou expected me to come back without any sort of apology? I couldn’t let this go without standing up for myself. But I really needed this job.
What if he didn’t ask me back at all? He might blame me for Sandra and Ledger walking out and decide to replace all of us.
Or he might finally close the paper down.
That made me oddly sad. Why did I care if the tiny Tilikum newspaper finally closed its doors. It was inevitable, wasn’t it?
But, for a moment at least, it had felt like we were making headway. Giving the community something they wanted and were willing to pay for. It seemed a shame for all that work to go to waste.
I checked the Tribune website. It hadn’t been updated. It didn’t say the newspaper had closed, but that wasn’t a good sign.
For a second, I felt a pang of guilt. But this was not my fault. And I was not going to shoulder the blame, even just in my own mind.
If anyone was to blame, it was whoever was stalking me.
My phone rang, startling me out of my thoughts. Assuming it would be my mom, I picked it up to answer. But it wasn’t her number on the screen. It said restricted.
It had been a while since I’d gotten one of these calls. I’d stopped answering them and whoever was behind it never left messages.
I didn’t know why, but I answered. “Hello?”
Silence.
“Hello?”
I waited. Still nothing.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
I didn’t expect an answer and I didn’t get one. The call ended.
Clearly I was becoming desensitized to the whole stalking thing. I wasn’t even upset. I put my phone down and went back to my laptop, like nothing had happened.
Although to be fair, a hang up call was small potatoes compared to messages written in animal blood on my door.
What I needed was an alternative in case my job at the Tribune really did vanish. The hang-up call hadn’t upset me, but the thought of being unemployed again sure did. My stomach twisted with dread at the thought of the stress. The desperate searching, waiting to hear back, wishing someone would at least give me an interview.
But how was I going to find another job in this town? The job market wasn’t exactly hot around here.
I thought back to the interview I’d declined for the job on the east coast. Had that been a mistake?
The problem was, everything hinged on Josiah. And I didn’t truly know how he felt.
That was the trouble with the strong, silent type. He was so hard to read.
Maybe I could find something remote. Or mostly remote with a little bit of travel. I could handle something like that.
I knew it would make me feel better to spend some time looking and at least get a feel for what my options might be, both for local jobs and remote ones. I set my search criteria and started scrolling.
I’d bookmarked three or four that had potential when Josiah nearly made me jump out of my chair. He stood behind me, his expression characteristically difficult to read.
I put my hand on my chest. “You scared me. How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long.”
“How did I not hear you come in?”
He shrugged. His eyes flicked to my computer screen, then away again. Without a word, he stalked away.
Quiet and broody was one thing, but this was getting ridiculous.
I got up and followed him into the living room. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“It doesn’t seem like nothing. You’ve been acting weird since last night.”
“No, I haven’t.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Yes, you have. Are you stressed about the remodel? Or something financial? Or is it the stalker thing? I wish you would just talk to me because I’m afraid it’s none of those things and the problem is me.”
“You’re not the problem.”
“Then what is the problem? You show about as much emotion as a rock but I can see it simmering inside you.”