Grant

My phone buzzed, and the name flashing across the screen made my chest tighten, not with dread, but something warmer, something familiar.

Marissa.

“Hey,” I answered, already softening. “How are you?”

Her voice returned so low I could barely catch it. Raw. Like she'd been crying.

“I’m... not fine,” she said, voice cracking just a little. “I’m outside your office. Do you think we could talk for a minute? I have my car.”

I glanced at the time, already slammed with ...