Page 59 of Reunited with the Hometown Hero
With the draft submitted, the reality of my imminent departure crashes back.
Tomorrow, I'll collect my repaired rental car.
Sunday morning, I'll drive back to Chicago.
On Monday, I'll present the finished article and likely accept the senior editor position, which has been my professional goal for years.
Everything is proceeding according to plan, except for the hollow feeling in my chest at the thought of leaving Noah—not just the passion we've rekindled, but the conversations left unfinished, the understanding still developing between the people we've become over ten years apart.
I'm contemplating this when my phone chimes with an incoming email. Lisa's name appears in the sender field, the subject line is a simple: "URGENT: Angel's Peak opportunity!"
With mild trepidation, I open the message:
Riley,
Just reviewed your draft with the senior team. In a word: SPECTACULAR! You've captured exactly the blend of economic analysis and human interest we wanted. Crawford is over the moon (his exact words: "This is why we hired Bennett").
Now for the exciting part: We want MORE. The regional mountain rescue competition happening in Angel's Peak next week is perfect timing. We'd like to expand your feature into a two-part series, with the competition as the centerpiece for the second installment. Community revival through specialized emergency services is the angle that aligns beautifully with the first piece.
This means extending your stay by two weeks. Expense account approved for accommodations and rental car extension. Crawford says this expanded feature practically guarantees the senior editor position (hint, hint).
Let me know ASAP if you're on board. This could be the defining piece of your career so far.
Lisa
I stare at the screen,reading and rereading the message as its implications sink in. Two more weeks in Angel's Peak. Two more weeks to explore whatever's developing between Noah and me, to determine if there's any possible future beyond momentary reconnection.
Two more weeks to decide which version of success I genuinely want.
The mountain rescue competition—Noah's domain. After our argument today, would he even want me covering it? The professional opportunity is undeniable and potentially career-defining, as Lisa suggests. But the personal complications feel equally significant.
Through my open window drifts the sound of distant laughter from The PickAxe, the gentle rhythm of small-town evening settling over Angel's Peak. Somewhere in that tapestry of community life is Noah, perhaps still frustrated by our argument, perhaps regretting his words as much as I regret my defensive response.
I look at my phone, my finger hovering over the reply button, the cursor blinking in an empty text field awaiting my decision. Stay or go? Career advancement or emotional exploration? The familiar path or the uncharted one?
For the first time in ten years, I'm genuinely uncertain which I'll choose.
Chapter 13
Competitive Spirit
Decision made,I find myself in an odd state of suspended animation. After accepting the extended assignment and postponing my return to Chicago, I sink into a strange limbo—professionally engaged but personally adrift. The argument with Noah hangs between us, unresolved and complicated by my suddenly extended stay.
I've messaged him, of course. A professionally worded text explaining that Horizon Magazine has asked me to cover the mountain rescue competition, something about an expanded feature, and editorial interest. His response was equally professional. "The department will provide whatever access you need."
Not "I'm glad you're staying" or "We should talk." Just proper, polite cooperation.
For five days, we've maintained this careful distance. I've interviewed competition organizers, researched the history of mountain rescue techniques, and prepared background materials—all without directly engaging with Noah beyond necessary logistical communications. He's been equally busy with pre-competition responsibilities, our paths crossing occasionally but never connecting.
Tonight changes that unavoidable reality. The Haven is hosting the welcome dinner for all competing teams, a formal affair that kicks off the weeklong competition. As the journalist covering the event, my attendance is expected. As the host team's leader, Noah's presence is guaranteed.
I contemplate this as I stand before the mirror in my room at Mabel's, assessing my appearance with critical eyes. The dress I've chosen, midnight blue with a draped neckline and fitted silhouette that ends just above my knees, is the only truly formal outfit I packed, intended for a potential interview with a resort executive that never materialized. My hair falls in loose waves past my shoulders, and I've applied makeup with more care than usual, a subtle enhancement rather than a dramatic transformation.
"Just professional presentation," I tell my reflection, knowing it for the lie it is. I want to look beautiful tonight. I want Noah to see what he's been avoiding these past five days. I want to remind him of what happened in that cabin on the mountainside, what happened at his place, and what simmers between us despite our best efforts to maintain professional distance.
Pride, perhaps. Or something deeper.
Mabel catches me as I descend the stairs, a knowing smile playing across her features. "My, don't you clean up nicely. The Haven won't know what hit it."
