No Longer Your Secret

By the time I got my ankle wrapped at the first-aid station at the base of the mountain, Janet Wiley was already gone.

The coworker organizing the team-building event handed me a bag of painkillers and ice packs.

"Ms. Wiley asked me to give you these. She said you could grab a cab back to the office when you're done."

I looked at him. "Where'd she go?"

"Mr. Fuller's blood sugar dropped, so Ms. Wiley took him to the hospital."

I glanced down at my swollen ankle. Whatever hope I had still been holding onto died right there.

By the time I got back to the office, every step hurt. I had barely eased myself into my chair when Nash Fuller sent a message to the group chat.

[Big thanks to Janet for sticking with me through the checkup. I'm good now. See you guys at dinner tonight.]

The group chat immediately lit up.

[Ms. Wiley stayed with you at the hospital the whole time? Man, must be nice getting that kind of special treatment!]

[Some people couldn't even finish the hike. Mr. Fuller felt sick and still made it all the way to the top. Talk about a difference.]

I closed the group chat, but a second later, my assistant walked over with a stack of documents in her arms.

"Mr. Carey, Ms. Wiley wants you to finish revising the first draft of the Starcrest project tonight."

I looked up at her. "Isn't the team dinner tonight?"

"Ms. Wiley said you missed part of the workday this afternoon, so you need to make up the time."

Just then, the private elevator at the end of the hall chimed.

Janet stepped out with one hand lightly supporting Nash. Her coat was draped over his shoulders, and he was holding a dark blue ceramic mug.

I recognized it immediately.

Janet and I had made that mug together on our first official date. On the bottom, she had carved my name into the clay herself, the letters slightly crooked.

She drove me home the night before, and I accidentally left it in her car.

Nash caught me looking and raised the mug with an easy smile. "Janet thought my stomach might still be off after the hospital, so she gave me some warm water. Nice mug, by the way."

I tightened my grip on the edge of the desk and stood. "That's mine."

The entire office went quiet.

Janet looked at me, a warning in her eyes. "It's just some cheap mug the pottery place gave us. It doesn't mean anything."

Nash gave a small laugh. "Oh, so it was free. If you want it that badly, Bryce, it's all yours."

He set it on the desk, but the mug clipped the edge as he let go. A crack shot from the rim all the way down to the bottom.

"Sorry." Nash pulled his hand back, his face paling slightly. "Didn't mean to do that."

Janet immediately reached for his hand and checked his fingers. Once she saw he wasn't hurt, she said, "Just toss it. It's only a mug."

A member of the cleaning staff swept the broken pieces into the trash. I stared at the shard with my name carved into it while pain pulsed through my ankle.

One of my coworkers called over, "Bryce, when can we expect the draft? Don't let personal stuff hold up the whole team."

I lowered myself back into my chair. "Before midnight."

Everyone gathered around Nash and headed for the elevator, but Janet stayed behind. She glanced at my swollen ankle, then quietly slipped a hotel key card between the documents on my desk.

It was a key card for the hotel we usually went to.

Janet lowered her voice. "Come see me when you're done. And stop sulking."

I slid the card back toward her. "Ms. Wiley, you don't have a boyfriend. It wouldn't look right for us to meet alone this late."

She caught my wrist. "I can explain what happened on the mountain. Nash wasn't feeling well. I couldn't just leave him there."

I didn't back down. "I couldn't walk, either."

"But you still made it down."

She said it so casually, like the fact that I had dragged myself down the mountain alone somehow proved I had never needed her in the first place.

Nash called from the doorway, "Janet, everyone's waiting. We're heading to dinner."

Janet let go of my wrist and flipped open the documents to the page that needed revisions.

"Focus on work first. We'll talk later tonight."

Then she turned and went back to Nash, leaving with the group by the elevator.

At exactly midnight, I sent the revised draft to the work group chat. Janet didn't respond.

A second later, my phone lit up with a photo from Nash.