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I listen, and as I do, my insides lock into place. The panic remains, but work forces it into the background long enough for me to think clearly again. My mind opens familiar doors.

Timeline, resources, risk, mitigation, ownership.

“Legal isn’t the bottleneck,” I say after two minutes. “Martin is using them as cover because he doesn’t want to tell the client phase two isn’t staffed.”

“That was my read.”

“Then we stop pretending. Move the vendor integration language into an appendix with conditional approval. Send legal only the clauses that changed. No full document review. Give Haversham a revised Monday deliverable that includes phase one certainty and phase two decision gates.”

Julian says, “Can you draft that?”

“I’ll have it to you in an hour,” I say.

“Laurel, you don’t have to⁠—”

“I said I’ll do it.”

“Right. Thank you. And again, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t let Martin talk to Haversham without me.”

Julian hesitates. “He outranks you.”

“He can outrank me silently.”

A little laugh. “Noted.”

I hang up.

The river comes back, as does the cold. So does the fact that Ashby heard enough to know exactly how quickly I became someone else.

I slide the phone into my pocket. “I have to go.”

“I gathered.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, though I’m not sure who I’m apologizing to.

Him? Myself? The river? The version of me that was almost having a real conversation before work intruded?

Ashby studies me. “You’re good at that.”

“At what?”

“Taking command.”

“It’s my job.”

“No,” he says. “It’s your armor.”

I pull off his gloves and hold them out. “Thank you for the unsolicited psychological assessment.”

He takes them, but his fingers brush mine this time, making my heart skip a damn beat.

“Thank you for your help, Ashby,” I say, taking a step back. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

He smiles, and my heart does it again, dammit. “Redwood Run’s a small town. I’m sure you will.”

CHAPTER EIGHT