Archive of Our Own

“What the…”

CJ checked her watch again as the drizzle became noticeable. It was ten to seven, and she was right on time for the buses’ departure at seven. She had made sure of that, despite the rain coming earlier than had been forecast and a windchill sharp enough to sting her face when she got out of the cab.

Behind her, the building stood half-lit and unwelcoming, as if she were late to the party. The lot was empty — no small buses, no volunteers smoking, and no people begging to get on the buses to escape what was sure to be a dreadful evening.

“This cannot be right,” she muttered, wondering if she had mixed up the locations for the Dayton departure and Columbus arrival points. Even if she had, which was unlikely, she wouldn’t make it across town in time to catch the bus now.

Either way… Fuck.

CJ took two steps toward the door, then stopped as the rain shifted, now thicker and faster.

“CJ?”

She turned, surprised and half-hopeful. Danny was jogging toward her from the far side of the lot, coat already soaked, his expression alert in that way that meant he’d clocked the same thing she had.

“They’re gone,” he said.

“I know, genius.”

He slowed to a stop beside her, scanning the lot anyway, like they might all reappear if he looked long enough. “They weren’t supposed to leave until—”

“Seven,” she finished. “Which is right about now.”

They stood there, rain needling down, the cold settling in like it meant to stay. CJ was infuriated, mad about this… And someone had to pay.

CJ pulled her phone out, already dialing.

“Toby,” she said the second he picked up. “Where the hell are you?”

“What do you mean, where are we,” Toby said. “On the road. We left ten minutes ago.”

“I’m standing in an empty lot in Dayton,” she said flatly. “With no vans in sight.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

“Hold on,” Toby said. Muffled voices, the unmistakable hand on the receiver so she wouldn’t hear. “You were in the other van. With the press.”

“No, I wasn’t,” CJ argued, dread already settling into the pit of her stomach. “I told you— I got pulled by an old friend with connections at city hall, who had previously served in the district…? We agreed I should see about that, and be back here by 7. You knew that.”

A beat.

“Oh,” Toby said. “Yeah. You said that.”

CJ closed her eyes, refusing to let her disappointment show. “You could have called me.”

“We thought you were already there.”

“So you miscounted me,” she said quietly, the pang of hurt stinging sharp.

Silence.

“We thought you were already rolling,” Toby said finally.

“Well, I’m not,” she snapped. “So now what?”

More muffled conversation. Then: “Weather’s getting bad. We decided to move early to avoid road closures or excessive jams, so we’re pulling into Columbus early and staying there for our media blitz tomorrow. I’m preparing the first of the speeches, at the high school. Sam is fine-tuning the one at the rec center after.”

“I can rent a car,” CJ said immediately. “I grew up here. I can drive in this weather.”

“CJ—”

“I’m not missing half a day because someone can’t count heads,” she declared. Or because she was so memorable that one could be mistaken for any other tall brunette… Because there were so many of them that they were indistinguishable, apparently.

With a disappointed sigh, she hung up before he could give her any response. Danny had been standing just behind her, rain dripping off the edge of his coat, face unreadable. He did look cute like that, despite the circumstances.

“I’ll rent the car,” he said without hesitation. “Put it on my tab.”

“No,” she said automatically. “I’ll—”

“CJ.”

She stopped. Looked at him, and then past him and towards the building, wondering if someone would be out there and could hail a cab for her.

“I can’t believe they left,” she said again, louder this time, like the buses might hear her and come back out of shame.

Danny stood a few feet away, already soaked, rain dripping off the end of his nose. “They didn’t forget you on purpose.”

“That is not comforting.”

“I’m just saying—”

“I know what you’re saying,” she snapped. “And I don’t care. I was here. On time.”

“I know.”

She turned on him then, rain stinging her eyes. “Do you?”

“Yes,” he said, firm now. “I do. And yelling at me is not going to make them magically reappear.”

“Well, forgive me for not being at my most gracious,” she shot back. “I just got miscounted by my own campaign and stranded in Ohio.”

“You’re not stranded,” he said. “You’re delayed. And so am I!”

“Oh, that’s much better,” she said flatly.

As predicted, the rain turned into a downpour in the next breath. It came down hard and slanted, soaking through CJ’s coat in no time, flattening her hair against her head like it had opinions about her judgment.

It was divine punishment. For what, exactly, she wasn’t sure yet.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, teeth chattering. “I’ll rent a car. I’ll drive.”

Danny shook his head. “In this rain?”

“I grew up here.”

“So I heard! And that makes you immune to physics? Or weather?”

She glared at him. He held her gaze, unyielding.

“CJ,” he said, lower now. “This is not the hill to die on. I’ll drive with you in the morning, but you’ll be even more delayed, or worse, if you have an accident.”

A volunteer appeared under the awning with an umbrella, shaking his head as he watched the lot disappear under sheets of water.

“Roads are closing,” he called, letting them both in under the huge cover. “You don’t want to be out there. This is supposed to break by dawn, maybe breakfast. I can drive you to some lodging if you want, but I wouldn’t want you staying here, with the flash flooding warnings being activated.”

CJ stared at the ground, rain splashing up around her shoes. Every instinct in her screamed: fix it, move, do something. And for once, the world refused to cooperate, and she was too disappointed to try to do anything about it.

She closed her eyes, exhaled through her nose, and made the call.

“My dad’s place is close,” she said finally. “Ten, fifteen-minute drive, tops, depending on traffic. I’ll wait it out and leave early.”

Danny didn’t hesitate. “You can drop me off at one of the bus station’s nearby hotels. I’ll rent a car and pick you up in the morning.”

“It’ll be better if you come with.”

“What?”

“I’m not letting you spend money when I have free lodging good enough for two. It’s probably best if we stay close anyway.”

“Okay.”

“But this is not a bonding experience.”

He smiled faintly. “I wouldn’t dare think that…”

“Danny—”

“You’re soaked,” he said, gesturing at her like this was evidence in a trial. “We’re both soaked. Our suitcases with dry clothes are on the bus, making their way to another city. Let’s not stay out here for a second longer, okay? You’re going to catch a cold.”

She became acutely aware of how her jacket clung to her arms, the cold already creeping in beneath the anger. The fact that everything she owned for the next twenty-four hours was rolling toward Columbus without her.

“This is a nightmare,” she said quietly.

He softened then. Just a little. “Yeah. It is.”

She nodded once. “Fine. But if anyone asks, this was not my idea.”

He smiled faintly. “I’ll back you up.”

They stood there for one more beat, rain drenching them both, tension sharp and electric in the open air.

“Next time,” she said, already turning toward the car, “I’m counting heads myself.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said, falling into step beside her.

And as they ran for the car, wet and irritated and very aware that they were about to walk into a house with no dry clothes and no easy exits, CJ had the distinct, unwelcome thought that this night was not going to let go of them easily.

*

The volunteer, Dale, insisted on driving them to her dad’s. They took him up on his offer, rather than wait for a cab.

“Not worth the risk,” he said, already jingling his keys. “Roads’ll be slicker than they look. I have tires that can handle everything, since I’m often on road trips to the river, to the lakes.”

CJ didn’t argue. That alone told her how distraught she was.

They piled into the car — CJ in the front passenger seat, Danny in the back, knees angled awkwardly because the floor was cluttered with fishing gear that had fallen off the other side, and an ice scraper that had seen better days. The doors shut, sealing them into a damp, overheated bubble that smelled faintly of coffee and wet wool.

Rain hammered the windshield, creating a sheet of water that made it difficult to see.

“Well,” the volunteer said cheerfully, pulling out of the lot, “you picked a good night to get left behind.”

CJ stared straight ahead. “I’m thrilled about it, Dale.”

Danny caught her eye in the rearview mirror and gave a look that said, Breathe. She ignored him on principle. A reporter shouldn’t be giving her indications as to how to behave, much less him.

She pulled out her phone again, thumb hovering where the signal might reappear if she stared hard enough.

“No service,” she muttered.

“Yeah,” the volunteer said. “Once this turns to ice, it’s anyone’s guess.”

Danny leaned forward slightly. “Forecast still saying it breaks by morning?”

“That’s what they’re saying,” the man replied. “Should be fine by breakfast… You’ll catch up easy. Columbus is only an hour away, and I thought I heard you guys were staying around the city all day?”

“Yes, kinda.”

“You got it,” the volunteer said. “I don’t mind driving you guys in the morning and saving you the expense. I had some errands to run, but that can be done from anywhere.”

She felt Danny’s gaze on the back of her neck — steady, concerned, infuriatingly calm. Made her feel warm all over, in a way she didn’t particularly like.

“That would be very kind of you, Dale. Don’t want to put you out; we can run it as an expense.”

“I want to! Consider this my small contribution to the campaign. I want to see you guys get far enough that I can vote for Bartlet here, okay?”

“Your wife won’t be upset?”

“Oh, no. She’s used to it.” Dale grinned. “Pick you up at 9 AM, just to give the sun a chance? Maybe a bit earlier if it’s improved by then.”

“Thank you, truly.”

Dale waved his hand to dismiss them, but smiled at them through the rearview mirror. Only the faint sound of the radio broke the silence reigning over them.

“You okay?” he asked her quietly, pitched just low enough that it was almost private.

“I’m fine,” she said automatically.

Dale glanced at her. “You don’t look fine.”

She smiled tightly. “That’s just my face.”

Danny huffed a quiet laugh behind her. She shot him a look. His eyes were still dancing with amusement.

The car hit a patch of standing water and fishtailed just slightly. CJ’s breath caught before she could stop it.

Danny’s hand rose to squeeze her shoulder reassuringly, wordlessly comforting her. He hadn’t teased her about how she had flinched after she had argued that she knew these roads. She hated how much that helped.

They drove the rest of the way in that strange half-state — small talk filling the air while everything else pressed in. Dale discussed road closures, about how Ohio weather always lied to you, especially in the last few years, about how campaigns never planned enough buffer so weather and other inconveniences didn’t strand anyone.

CJ listened with half an ear, already ten steps ahead, already planning calls she’d make at the crack of dawn. Toby deserved to get woken up that early. If she had to be up, so did he.

When they turned onto her father’s street, the rain softened just a little — enough to make it feel like a cruel joke. Her heart, meanwhile, started beating faster.

“Here we are,” Dale announced. “Warm and dry. Relatively.”

CJ reached for the door handle, then paused.

“Thank you,” she said, sincerely. “Really. And sorry about the wet seats we’re leaving behind.”

“No trouble,” he replied. “You folks be safe. Get some warm clothes and enjoy your night, okay? I’ll be back just before 9.”

Danny climbed out first, then held the door for her without thinking. Their eyes met for half a second in the rain-dim light — a charged, unspoken glance, restrained by the very fact that someone was watching.

She stepped past him and walked to the familiar building she had called home for so long… And back into all the weird, conflicting memories associated with it.

The porch light flickered once as CJ fumbled for her keys, rain dripping steadily off the ends of her hair. The house looked exactly as it always had — solid, unremarkable, stubbornly unchanged… It held so many memories, and it always would. She unlocked the door and shouldered it open.

Warm air rushed out to meet them, the familiar smell of coffee and old books wrapping around her like an old blanket.

“Dad?” she called, toeing off one wet shoe and inviting an impassive Danny to do the same. “It’s me. Claudia.”

“In here,” he answered immediately.

They stepped into the room, dripping onto the entryway rug. CJ shrugged out of her coat and hung it on the hook by the radiator, water already spotting the wall. Danny followed suit more carefully, folding his coat over his arm like he wasn’t sure where it was allowed to go.

Her father appeared from the living room, glasses perched low on his nose, cardigan buttoned neatly. He took one look at CJ —soaked, hair plastered to her temples, shivering— and frowned.

“You look like hell,” he said affectionately, before drawing her into a quick hug.

“Thank you,” she replied. “I try.”

“You lost a fight with the weather?”

“It cheated. I was unarmed.”

His eyes slid to Danny, sharp and assessing — not exactly unfriendly, but thorough, curious. The kind of look that had made boyfriends sweat in high school.

“And you are?” he asked.

Danny stepped forward easily. “Danny… Daniel Concannon. I work with your daughter.”

Her father shook his hand, grip firm, eyes never leaving his face. “That so?”

“Yes, sir.”

A pause. Not awkward, but intentional.

“Well,” her father said finally, “you don’t look like her boss, Danny-Daniel.”

Danny smiled, polite but unguarded. “I’m not brave enough to run for anything.”

CJ closed her eyes and groaned. “Oh my God.”

Her father laughed, pleased, and extended his right hand for Danny to shake. “Nice to meet you. I’m Talmidge Cregg, Claudia Jean’s father… but please call me Tal.”

He looked back at Danny, head tilting just slightly. Studying the details — the wet coat, the way he stood angled toward CJ without thinking, the fact that he’d come all this way with her. Beyond the lack of a price tag, why had he done this?

“So,” he said mildly, “You her boyfriend?”

“Dad,” CJ said instantly, choking back some surprise. How did he jump to that? He had to know she had no time for that. “No.”

“No,” Danny said at the same time, but he looked at her in a way that melted her inside. The idea he’d want that title was stupid, and just… projection from her. And that crush of hers that wouldn’t go away.

Her father raised an eyebrow. “Funny. You answered faster than he did.”

CJ shot him a look. “I did not—”

He waved a hand. “Relax. I’m just curious.”

His eyes flicked between them again, sharper now. Not prying, but observing.

“You don’t usually bring people home in storms,” he added. “Or anytime. So he must be special.”

“It wasn’t— He’s not—” CJ stopped and exhaled. “The campaign left early. And forgot about us.”

“I see.” He turned back to Danny. “You talk her into waiting instead of driving?”

“Yes, sir.”

Her father nodded, approving, as CJ tried to protest. “Good. She’s stubborn.”

“That’s generous,” CJ muttered. “Dale convinced me more than Danny did.”

Tal smiled, fully ignoring her, before he turned back to Danny. “You keep an eye on her?”

Danny didn’t hesitate. “I do. Always.”

She was already nervous about staying at home; she didn’t need to hear Danny going along with her dad’s charade. Why was he acting like he was some protector? What eye was he keeping in her, beyond a professional one?

Her father seemed satisfied. He stepped aside and gestured them in further. “Come on. You’re both dripping. Sit down before you ruin the floors.”

As they moved toward the living room, CJ caught Danny’s eye. His expression had shifted — still composed, but thoughtful now, like something important had just been filed away. Danny looked around, as if cataloging the mountains of books and the mess in general, and she feared the future references he could make about them at the most inopportune moment.

Her father paused in the middle of the room to consider, then added casually, “If you’re staying the night, I think your room is the best call. You are the only one who stays here when you visit. Timmy’s is full of research books and papers, while Robert’s is just… You know. A shrine to his many accomplishments that no one is ever allowed to touch. One day he’ll take them home, but eighteen years in, I kinda doubt it.”

“I am fine with sleeping on an armchair.” Danny looked at her, as if she was the one to be convinced. “Seriously.”

CJ shot Danny a look but nodded at her father. “Not how I was raised.”

Tal nodded, too.

Danny inclined his head. “Thank you anyway.”

Tal smiled at him knowingly. “Of course.”

And as he turned toward the kitchen, leaving them standing there in the soft light, CJ had the unsettling realization that her father hadn’t needed her to say a word.

He’d just… known.

“Why don’t you two take turns to shower? You’re soaked to the bone, and I don’t want you catching a cold on my watch.”

“Dad—”

“Claudia, it’s okay. I can easily prepare you some soup and grab some extra blankets. You can get some clothes from Timmy’s closet for our guest.” Tal turned towards Danny, eyeing him. “They might be slightly big on you, but it’s better than nothing, right, son?”

“Yes, sir. I appreciate you going through all this trouble for me. I would have been happy to huddle under a blanket.”

“Nonsense. We have the means, and we can pop the clothes into a quick washer and dryer cycle overnight. The coats can dry in their corner. It’s no problem. Not like you chose this weather.”

CJ needed to speak to her father, if only to mention how Danny might work with her, but it was a more complex situation than just ‘coworkers’ — especially when the power dynamic was not remotely reciprocal.

But also she was starting to get the sinking sense that her father truly thought they were together, which was absolutely ridiculous.

Instead of correcting him, she huffed and turned down the hall and up the stairs toward her brother’s room, pulling open drawers until she found a pair of sweatpants that looked serviceable. Then she went hunting with more care, finally unearthing an old Ohio State Buckeyes sweatshirt Timmy had loved — until a tragic encounter with tomato paste had relegated it permanently to loungewear.

“The big bathroom’s up here,” CJ called from the hallway overlooking the living room, holding the clothes up. “Come up. Shower first. Then give me your clothes.”

Danny coughed, half-choking, as Tal stifled a laugh.

CJ frowned. What had she said that was so funny? Was it her sergeant tendencies? Her efficiency?

Danny cleared his throat and stood. “I, uh, yes. Okay. That makes sense.”

Tal waved a hand, delighted. “You see? Efficient. That’s my daughter.”

CJ shot him a look that promised consequences later and led the way upstairs without waiting for Danny to recover.

*

The bathroom was warm, mercifully so, steam already ghosting the mirror from earlier use. CJ gestured toward the towel rack. “Towels are clean. Vent’s loud but effective. Don’t worry about—” She stopped herself. “Take your time. I don’t think Dad will bill you for your water usage.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

She turned to leave, then paused in the doorway. “And Danny?”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t overthink this.”

His mouth curved, just slightly, teasing her. “Too late.”

She snorted and closed the door behind her. Then opened it back seconds later to add a caveat, enough to see his more-toned-than expected arms and damp undershirt plastered to his body. It took her a second to regain her composure.

“Oh. Uh… Leave your wet clothes here, I’ll pick them up later and take them to the mud room.”

Danny’s cheeks were pink as he said, “Thank you.”

She took that as her cue to leave. Downstairs, the sound of the shower starting was unmistakable.

CJ leaned against the hall wall for a beat longer than necessary, staring at the family photos lining the staircase — birthdays, graduations, faces frozen at ages that felt increasingly theoretical. She didn’t let her mom’s sudden disappearance from the frames get to her. She shook herself and went back down.

Tal was already starting the stove to prepare some soup.

“You like him,” he said, casually, like he was commenting on the weather.

CJ didn’t look up. “I like lots of people.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” He set the vegetables from the fridge on the cutting table. “You don’t bring lots of people home, in storms or otherwise.”

“I don’t bring anyone home, for any reason. I didn’t bring him, either,” she said lamely, not believing the words out of her mouth. “Circumstances did.”

Tal smiled. “Circumstances are very revealing.”

She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. Technically, she had offered it to him… Almost forced him to come with her. But this was not a argument she had the energy for. She got her stubborn streak from her father, so there was no winning. Hence, she kept helping him chop and mince, preparing dinner together like old times. Like when it was just the two of them in this house, and her brothers were away at college.

Upstairs, the water shut off.

A few minutes later, Danny reappeared at the top of the stairs, hair damp, sleeves of the borrowed sweatshirt pushed up, looking both more comfortable and somehow more out-of-place than before.

The sweatshirt fit him better than it had any right to. CJ noticed but immediately wished she hadn’t. Damn it.

He caught her looking and stilled, uncertain. “Is this… okay?”

“Yes,” she said, too quickly. “That’s fine. Perfect. Timmy will be thrilled.”

“Should I be worried?”

“I don’t think he’ll know,” Tal dismissed. “You’re fine.”

“Only if you don’t spill tomato sauce on it.”

Tal laughed outright this time. “You must be cold, Claudia. You should dry yourself before you catch something.”

CJ nodded and wordlessly walked out of the kitchen and upstairs, knowing that was what her dad meant.

She grabbed some old loungewear she had left at home a couple of visits ago from her top drawer and pulled some blankets from the top of her closet. She then walked into the bathroom. It took her a minute to move, the disbelief of the situation still damp on her skin.

She turned the water on hot immediately, steam blooming quickly in the familiar, too-small space. The mirror fogged before she even stepped in, erasing her exhausted reflection like a favor. She got rid of her clothes and placed them by Danny’s neatly folded ones, then stepped into the bathtub.

She stood under the spray longer than necessary, shoulders loosening inch by inch as the heat chased the cold out of her bones. Rainwater, campaign dust, the day’s irritation — all of it rinsed away in thin rivulets that disappeared down the drain without ceremony.

This was fine. Normal. Just a delay. Her job wouldn’t be on the line for an honest case of miscommunication. That she had invited a reporter into her home could invite unwanted opinions; it could be worse. But she was a good Samaritan… and, most importantly, no one had to know about that detail. She could spin it if needed.

From downstairs came the sound of voices. CJ couldn’t really make out any of what was being said beyond the low murmur of conversation, the cadence of people getting to know each other. Then laughter — she could recognize her dad’s, but Danny’s warm, genuine chuckles followed them, which was adorable.

CJ closed her eyes.

No. She did not have an inconvenient crush on the cute reporter who always seemed to know how to disarm her by saying something charming. It was hopeless. And besides, if there was any remote chance he might reciprocate in any way, they would still be navigating a minefield of professional boundaries and unspoken rules.

She wasn’t listening, but she also didn’t want to know what they were talking about. Only she did, especially since she was the one thing they had in common. CJ had never really been interested in her father meeting anyone she worked with — Toby had been a friend, so it felt okay, but it felt like the professional and the personal were two streams that should never meet.

CJ tipped her head back and let the water hit her face, breathing through it until the sound dulled again into background noise. This was her father. He liked people. So did Danny, who hadn’t met a human he didn’t want to connect with. Of course they’d talk.

She shampooed, rinsed, conditioned as methodically and absent-mindedly as she could. When she finally shut the water off, the room felt too quiet by comparison. She wrapped herself in a towel and stood there for a second, listening again despite herself.

More voices. Another burst of laughter. CJ wondered if it had to do with her.

She dressed quickly in the clothes she had set out. When CJ stepped back into the hallway, her hair damp and curling at the ends, the house smelled like cinnamon and soup.

She paused at the top of the stairs. Down below, the conversation continued, unhurried, unselfconscious. Danny’s voice blended easily with her father’s, the markers of a natural conversation that was beyond the awkwardly polite chatter of two strangers forced to share an evening together.

Did she prefer that?

She exhaled once, squared her shoulders, and headed for the mudroom to leave the damp clothes on the washer.

*

Tal and Danny were at the table now, ladling soup into the same ceramic bowls they’ve had for three decades. Tal was seated, glasses off and folded beside him, sleeves rolled up, as if settling in for a long evening rather than waiting out a storm. Danny stood at the counter, slicing bread with more care than strictly necessary.

They both looked up when she reached the bottom step.

“There she is,” Tal said. “I was beginning to think you’d moved back in permanently. I might get a call from City of Dayton Water in the morning.”

CJ snorted and rolled her eyes. Danny smiled, small and genuine, amused by the father-daughter interaction. “Soup’s ready. Your dad’s instructions were very specific.”

Tal nodded. “You don’t rush soup. And this is a special recipe that I don’t share around.”

“I’ve already forgotten what I helped with, but it smells delicious.”

CJ moved into the kitchen automatically, grabbing spoons, opening a drawer for napkins like she’d never left. She felt Danny step aside for her without comment, an easy choreography that startled her more than it should have.

“Your clothes are in the wash,” she said, because she needed to anchor herself in something practical. “They’ll need a dryer cycle in the delicate setting. Maybe two.”

“Thank you,” Danny said again. “I owe you.”

She waved a hand. “You owe the machine. It’s doing the real work. Though my father might think differently.”

Tal chuckled and slid a bowl toward her. “Sit. Eat.”

For a few minutes, the only sounds were spoons against ceramic, the low hum of the washer through the wall, rain still pattering insistently at the windows. CJ felt herself ease despite the circumstances, if only because she could pretend this was familiar. Soup at the table. Warmth. Company that didn’t ask anything of her, that wasn’t expecting her to be on all the time. No need to think about strategy or speeches or crafting a message. That would come later.

“So,” Tal said eventually, glancing at Danny, “you said you write?”

“I think that’s what reporters do, yes,” Danny retorted smartly, clearly highlighting a level of comfort CJ hadn’t been expecting. Tal raised an eyebrow, and the reporter recanted. “I try. I’d like to do more of it.”

“What kind?”

“Something long-form, or even longer,” he said, cryptically. “Probably on politics, about the parts that get lost in headlines, or that aren’t really deemed interesting enough to be printed. The people behind all of it. The history and reasoning behind decisions, and those kinds of things.”

Tal’s interest sharpened, engaged. “Gotta find a balance to sustain interest for a while.”

“Yes. I think that’s why I’m currently drawn to biographical pieces. You don’t get to know people from a few sentences; there’s a reason they are like that.”

“Hard thing to do well.”

“That’s what I hear,” Danny said. “A decade plus into my career, and I’m still learning.”

Tal smiled. “Aren’t we all? I think that’s the most important quality we should strive to maintain: we are nothing but lifelong learners.”

CJ watched them over the rim of her bowl, amazed by the easy conversation the two men shared and the common ground they had found. It had been a while since she had seen her father share such an engaging conversation with anyone — though, of course, she hadn’t really been around during that brief second marriage of his.

“You ever consider teaching?” Tal asked curiously, which stunned CJ. She muffled a huff — give it five more minutes, and Danny might be adopted into the family.

Danny laughed. “I don’t think I have the patience. As I said earlier, my mom was also a teacher, and I don’t think I have the temperament.”

Tal pointed his spoon at him. “You listen. That’s half of it.”

“Thank you. I think it requires more than that. Patience, for one.”

“You don’t strike me as someone particularly hasty,” Tal commented, seeking CJ’s eyes for confirmation.

“I’d say that there is a decent overlap between a reporter’s best traits and a teacher’s, actually.”

Danny’s lips twitched upward, grateful. Tal caught the moment and smiled.

“Have you ever thought about teaching, CJ?” Danny wondered.

“No.”

“Don’t ask her. She doesn’t want anything to do with it… I sometimes wonder if it’s just the natural rejection of not liking what your parents do.”

CJ rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “It’s not that. I know my limits. I am simply not smart enough for it.”

Danny glanced at CJ then, just briefly, like he was checking something, before turning towards Tal. “She’s good at explaining,” he said. “Even when she pretends she’s not. It might have taken you a second to get settled, but you project such confidence when you’re talking to the gaggle; it’s admirable.”

CJ shot him a look. “I do not pretend. I simply am not… I am good at synthesizing bullet points.”

Tal hummed, amused. “She does pretend.”

“And caring for reporters is not that different from children.”

Danny smiled into his soup, and CJ decided that deserved a light kick to the ankle.

CJ felt the warmth of the moment settle in her chest in a way that made her uneasy and grateful at the same time. This was closeness, yes, but not the kind she could manage or redirect. It was happening around her, with her in it, but not controlling it.

The washer clicked before coming to a loud halt. Some things never really changed.

“I’ll switch the clothes to the dryer,” CJ said, standing.

Danny rose at the same time. “I can help—”

“I’ve got it,” she said, not unkindly. “You’re a guest, sir. Sit down.”

Tal rubbed his beard as he watched the exchange with interest, but he didn’t comment on it. CJ couldn’t shake the feeling that Tal thought there was more going on than there was, or was trying to find something that wasn’t there, but she didn’t know how to convince him. It couldn’t be there, for one.

CJ moved into the mudroom, transferring the freshly clean, damp clothes to the dryer, shaking them out with practiced efficiency. She set the dryer, pressed start, and let the thrum ground her, exhaling slowly and letting the tension roll off her.

When she came back, Tal had poured himself tea. Danny was clearing bowls without being asked.

“You don’t have to—” CJ began.

“I know,” he said. “I just told your father that I want to. I was also taught some manners, CJ, and you two have already been outstanding hosts. Let me do whatever I can to help.”

“Okay,” she conceded.

They stood there for a moment — three people in a kitchen, a loud storm outside, heat inside, nothing dramatic happening, and yet everything felt slightly off.

Tal broke the silence. “You two can stay as long as you need. Roads’ll be better in the morning, but if you decide to wait… I won’t mind.”

CJ nodded. “We’ll leave early. Dale, the best volunteer in this county, offered to drive us to Columbus after breakfast.”

“At around nine-ish, I think.”

“Of course,” he said. Then, gently: “For tonight, you’re home.”

CJ felt something loosen inside of her, trying to feel as sure as her father was. She was home, safe from the inclement weather outside. Coming back home was always its own thing, but this was nice. Almost.

Tal checked the clock over the sink and made a small, satisfied noise.

“Well,” Tal said, pushing his chair back, “I’m officially declaring it a night.”

CJ looked up. “Already?”

“Already,” he replied. “Some of us like to greet the morning instead of ambushing it, sweetheart.”

Danny smiled. “That sounds… healthy.”

Tal snorted. “Once you reach a certain age, sleep doesn’t last. Instead of tossing and turning, I prefer to use that time doing something productive.”

He gathered his mug and plate, moving slowly but deliberately, then paused near CJ. His gaze lingered on her — attentive in that way that always made her feel like she’d been seen, even when she hadn’t volunteered anything. It reminded her of his better moments after her mother had passed, once he’d found his footing again as her father, before she left for college.

“You okay?” her father asked.

“Yes,” she said automatically, rather distracted. Then corrected herself, softer: “Yeah.”

He nodded, satisfied with exactly that. Tal leaned in, kissed her cheek, and pulled her into a brief half-hug.

“I’ll make coffee in the morning. From the good beans,” he said. “Something resembling a proper breakfast. You two can head out whenever you’re ready, no pressure.”

Danny tipped his head. “Thank you again, sir. For everything. I appreciate the hospitality.”

Tal smiled at him — open, not scrutinizing. “It’s been nice having company,” he said. “Especially my daughter and her friends.”

“Of course,” Danny replied. “Thank you for having me.”

Tal waved a hand, already moving down the hall. The light clicked off a moment later, and the quiet that ensued felt deliberate, like he had closed a door and given them space on purpose. Never had CJ felt more like a teen than in that moment.

“Well,” she said lightly, turning toward the stairs, “that was normal.”

Danny’s mouth curved. “Extremely.”

They didn’t move right away.

Awkwardness settled comfortably between them, an uninvited but likely guest for the evening. The kind that showed up when you ran out of things to say.

“We should probably get some sleep… Take advantage of this situation, of being cut off,” CJ said eventually, like the thought had just occurred to her. “Roads will clear early.”

Danny nodded. “Yeah.”

A beat.

“I’ll take the couch,” he added, already committing to it.

She turned toward him. “You are not.”

He blinked, taken aback. “CJ—”

“I’d rather not read about how it caused you irreparable back damage on the paper,” she said.

“I’ve slept on worse.”

“I’m sure you have,” she said dryly. Then, firmer: “Come on.”

He hesitated, his eyes fixed on her.

“I have spare toothbrushes,” she added, starting toward the stairs. “Years of hotel and plane freebies.”

That did it. He smiled, resigned. “Of course you do.”

“And probably a sleep mask,” she said over her shoulder. “We were that kind of family. Freebie ransackers. Don’t spread that around…”

“Who hasn’t?” he said. “They’d throw them out anyway. You’re just giving them a second life. Or the life they deserved to get.”

CJ smiled despite herself, then started going up the stairs. “Exactly.”

She didn’t look back to see if he was following; she knew.

“I am serious about the couch,” Danny argued again as they reached the landing.

CJ rolled her eyes.

“Absolutely not. That thing is a crime against spines. I guess we feel some sentimentality towards it, but no one ever dares nap on it.”

“I’ll survive.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?” he asked, evenly, teasing her, as he leaned closer.

“The point,” she said carefully, “is that you’re a guest. And my father already thinks you’re—” She cut herself off, regretting the words immediately.

“Thinks I’m… what?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. The intensity of his attention made her acutely aware of the space between them. Or the lack of it.

“Nothing,” she said, too fast.

She caught him glancing at her mouth. Just for a second. The way his eyes unconsciously drifted there as if the argument had him thinking about that, and she didn’t want him to know she was thinking about it too. Before she could even think of teasing him about it, Danny caught himself, gaze lifting back to hers.

Too bad she had already felt the spark. Too bad they were both committed to spending the night in the same house — the same room. It all suddenly felt like a terrible idea. Why didn’t she realize this a couple of hours ago?

“If you’re going to order me to bed,” he said softly, “you might want to decide where.”

Her breath caught. “I’m not—”

“I know,” he said. “You’re being practical.”

She swallowed. “Yes. Now, inside. I’ll be right back.”

CJ walked a few steps towards the bathroom and followed part of her nightly routine with the creams she had left last time, then brushed her teeth. She then grabbed the spare toothbrush from the bathroom cabinet and left it outside before going into her bedroom.

Oh God. She had left him alone in her room. Yet another stupid misstep.

“If I see so much as a whisper of a mention about anything in this room, you are dead meat, Concannon.”

“I don’t know, I feel like my readers would love to hear about how the Bartlet campaign’s spokesperson loves Stevie Nicks.”

“Rumours was a life-changing record, and it came out at a formative time in my life. I can’t even pick my favorite song in that record… So yeah, I love her.”

“Hey, me too. The single vinyl with ‘Go Your Own Way’ and ‘Silver Springs’ was played nonstop at our house, especially after breakups, but that entire record is so good and Stevie is just so cool.”

He smiled, but softer this time, as he’d just been trusted with something small and unguarded. Then, after a beat, Danny took the toothbrush she was offering and headed to the bathroom.

CJ closed her eyes the second he left, regretting this proposition. She would have done it for anyone, but doing it for your impossible campaign crush seemed ill-advised, to say the least. And her teen bedroom, no less!

With every breath that passed, CJ had the unmistakable sense that her father had read the situation better than she initially had. After all, he had been a high school teacher… He knew about furtive glances and flirting. She went about preparing the bed, absent-mindedly grabbing a second pillow she used to have in her closet.

“I was thinking about this all and… My offer to take the couch still stands. I’ll sign an NDA if I need to.”

CJ jumped in surprise, slowly turning around. “Jesus, Daniel.”

“So?”

“You are absolutely not taking the couch.” She glared at him, then walked to grab an extra blanket off the chair. Her dad must have brought it at one point. “Stop suggesting it.”

“CJ.”

“No. I’ll take the couch if that’ll stop you, but you are not.”

He grabbed one of the thickest blankets and placed it over her carpet.

“What the fuck are you doing now?” CJ hissed, letting out a long exhale. “That’s not the bed.”

“I can sleep on the floor. This has to be the warmest home I’ve ever been to, and this looks like a comfy carpet.”

“I’m calling Harvard admissions in the morning, because there’s no way someone as thick-headed as you got into such a reputable institution. This is ridiculous.”

“I’m adaptable. I’m trying to find a solution! Exactly what Harvard looks for.”

“Yeah, you’re right. You’re standing in my childhood bedroom, arguing with me about logistics. We passed ridiculous ten minutes ago. I can sleep on the floor if needed, but again— you aren’t.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “CJ, I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.”

“You’re not keeping me from doing anything,” she shot back. “I outrank you here.”

He huffed a laugh despite himself. “Based on what authority?”

“Years lived here,” she said. “Trauma endured. Lonely Christmases survived. The fact that this is my room, and your attempts at chivalry won’t work on me.”

“That’s not how—”

“Danny.”

He stopped. They stared at each other, the space between them tight and humming.

“We cannot argue about this forever,” she said, quieter now, aware her dad was down the hall.

Neither of them moved. The bed was suddenly very present, and CJ understood his hesitation more than ever.

She exhaled hard and pinched the bridge of her nose. A hell of her own making. Why had she opened her mouth in that parking lot?

“God, this is stupid.” She dropped her hand and looked at the bed. Then back at him. “We have to share. Hasn’t it been obvious from the start?”

He blinked. “What?”

“We’ve been circling this topic for ten minutes,” she added. “Let’s stop pretending there’s an alternative.”

“But…”

“Back-to-back. No weirdness. My parents upgraded me to a queen in my teens, and we should be so grateful for that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re defining weirdness now.”

“Yes, whatever you say,” she said firmly. “Feet-to-face is gross, so don’t even suggest it.”

“So… Back-to-back,” he repeated.

“Back-to-back. Everyone keeps their own side. No touching. No martyrdom or heroics. No pretending you fell to the floor, either.”

He studied her as if he were checking for cracks. Like he was waiting for her to say she was joking.

“Okay,” he said finally. “If you’re sure.”

“I am,” she said, already pulling the blanket back. “Get in before I change my mind.”

That earned a quiet laugh from him. “Bossy.”

“Get in,” she repeated, unable to hide her amusement.

The mattress dipped as he sat, then again as he turned carefully, like he was afraid of misjudging the space, particularly since he seemed intent on rolling to the very edge of the bed. CJ waited until he was settled before climbing in herself, her movements deliberate and controlled.

“Back-to-back,” she reminded him. “No funny business.”

“I remember,” he said, a bit disgruntled.

They lay down at the same time, spines aligned but not touching, a careful inch of air between them that might as well have been a dare.

CJ reached for the lamp and turned it off, though the orange glow of the streetlights added some warm colors to the room. After hours of intense pitter-patter, it seemed like the rain had calmed down slightly now.

The room felt smaller without sight, every sound magnified: the quiet creak of the bed, the low hum of the house settling, the unmistakable fact of another person breathing inches away from her.

It had been a while since she had last shared a bed with a man. CJ struggled to remember a time she had done so platonically, outside her childhood.

She stared into the dark, counting the seconds between his breaths before unwillingly realizing that she was doing it at all.

If she pretended this helped her conceal some sleep, would it be okay?

She shifted slightly, testing the edge of her side. The movement rippled through the mattress, and she felt him still in response — not moving away, not closer. Just aware of their position.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“It’s okay,” he said, just as quiet.

Another pause.

The space between their backs felt warmer now. They weren’t any closer, but her body still read it as anticipation, having not heard her brain say this was not happening and they would have to deal with it.

She could feel him breathe. The steady rhythm, controlled, almost careful. Pretending to be asleep, but going through it, too.

Her mind supplied entirely unhelpful information: the width of his shoulders, the warmth she’d felt earlier, the way his eyes had lingered too long on her mouth. She shut her eyes tighter, as if that might help.

It did not.

The bed creaked again as he adjusted, turning just a fraction closer.

CJ swallowed.

“Danny,” she said, not meaning to.

“Hmm?”

Nothing else came.

She listened to him exhale slowly and deliberately, as if he were steadying himself. The sound traveled straight down her spine.

They lay back-to-back, not touching, a careful truce held together by habit and exhaustion. The mattress was wider than it had any right to be, but still not wide enough. After a few minutes, CJ spoke, turning to lie supinely under the guise of adjusting her posture.

“Since neither of us is sleeping…”

“… I was trying here.”

“What were you and my dad laughing about earlier?”

“You were spying on us?”

“I couldn’t hear a chirp. But… I am curious.”

Danny shifted slightly, without really removing the distance between them.

“He put me under the microscope. Asked where I was from, because there were plenty of other sweatshirts for you to grab, but got a stained Buckeyes one.”

“Just so you could dirty it as much as you wanted.”

“When I told him I was from Michigan, he laughed. That would do it, he said.”

Danny huffed a quiet laugh. The sound vibrated faintly through the mattress, and CJ was uncomfortably aware of how close that made him feel.

“I genuinely got the first one I could find.”

At least in the dark, it would be harder for him to realize she was lying, wouldn't it?

“Your father knows it was you teasing me because of Ohio’s long-standing rivalry with Michigan. Says you have a tendency to tease the people you like.”

“I don’t.”

“But anyway,” Danny ignored her, “I told him I am not a fan of Michigan, so I didn’t even notice. Then he said he could’ve sworn this was your favorite sweatshirt and would wear it for a while after your brother left it here.”

“No.”

“And that it was you who got it stained.”

“I won’t stand for this slander in my own home. Not when he’s misremembering. Tim was helping me cook, but he was wearing it.”

“If you’d prefer that I got all riled up about wearing the enemy’s clothes, please let me know.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Your dad likes me. He thinks I’m charming.”

“Sadly fell into your trap. Not everyone can see through you like I do.”

“You can’t either,” Danny countered.

At some point, exhaustion fell over her like a weighted blanket. Her thoughts slowed, softened, and blurred at the edges. She drifted toward him without realizing it, an error in miscalculation due to her exhaustion, to the darkness. From not being used to sharing.

Her back brushed his, just barely. Enough for them to notice.

She froze in place. So did Danny.

Neither of them moved or said anything. After all, it was clearly accidental, and just fabric and warmth meeting… But why did it feel like a dam cracking dangerously?

“CJ,” he whispered, careful. “Are you okay?”

She forced herself to shift back, reclaiming her side of the bed as swiftly as she could.

“Sorry,” she said again, her voice rougher than she intended.

He didn’t move.

“It’s okay.”

The bed creaked softly as he adjusted the pillow beneath his head. CJ mirrored the movement, a reflex she noticed too late.

They lay there, almost aligned, not quite touching, breathing into the same pocket of dark. She was suddenly very aware that if either of them moved now, it wouldn’t feel accidental anymore.

Whatever this was, it felt uncomfortably like sharing something.

And neither of them said a word about it. CJ so desperately wanted to reach out to him, wondering if his warmth was the missing piece in this sleep equation.

For a moment, she wasn’t sure if she’d drifted or not.

Her back brushed his again, which didn’t surprise her — she had always been a bit of a restless sleeper. Danny should be grateful she hadn’t been hogging the blankets as much.

The contact lingered, and the part of her that should have pulled away simply… didn’t. His breathing shifted behind her, slower, heavier, close enough that she felt it against her skin.

“CJ,” he murmured, low and unguarded. The kind that screamed, Who are we kidding here.

She turned toward him slowly. It felt less like a choice than a surrender. They ended up facing each other, legs tangling, bodies fitting together too easily, the dark suddenly crowded with him.

This was wrong. This was not—

He kissed her.

Harder than she expected, but not rough. Enough to just melt her inside. Just a man who knew what he wanted: her. His mouth was warm and open and demanding in a way that wiped the rest of the night clean — there was just him, and her, and this. She gasped into his kiss, fingers clutching at his sweatshirt like she needed leverage, and kissed him back just as fiercely.

“Fuck it,” she breathed, the words dissolving against his mouth.

He just smiled and kissed her again, slower, deeper, like he had all the time in the world. Her thoughts scattered. The kisses blurred together until she couldn’t tell how long it had been since she’d last taken a proper breath.

His hand slid to her back, firm and possessive now, pulling her closer until there was no space left to pretend about. She felt the weight of him, the heat of him, the unmistakable reality of wanting, and she was just so ready to give in.

The bed dipped as they rolled, bodies aligning instinctively, her pulse hammering as his mouth left hers and traced along her jaw. Her head fell back with a soft, helpless sound as his lips followed, lingering, learning.

“Oh,” she moaned, breathless and unfiltered.

He kissed her throat, slower now, mouth open, deliberate, like he knew exactly what he was doing to her. She arched into it, hands sliding over him, desperate and greedy, any remaining restraint dissolving completely.

“CJ,” he said again, rougher this time.

The way he said her name made her shiver. It was quite possibly the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.

His mouth moved lower, dropping a trail of kisses on the way. His beard was ticklish but soft against her, which made her squirm delightedly.

CJ woke with a sharp inhale to a dark, quiet room. Exactly what it had been.

She was on her side of the bed, facing the window. Danny was behind her — back-to-back, not touching. The careful inch of space between them was exactly where it belonged.

Her heart was racing. Heat lingered everywhere, her body still responding to something that hadn’t happened.

Sleep came in fragments after that. She woke once to the sense of him turning away slightly, as if creating more space on purpose. Another time, to the sound of her own breath caught halfway between dreaming and wanting. CJ went very still, scared to move and disturb him.

Eventually, morning came, much earlier than CJ would’ve preferred it to.

Light crept in through the blinds, thin and gray, catching on the familiar outlines of her room and making everything feel faintly off. She lay still for a moment, orienting herself — to the familiar, comfortable bed, her room… and the unmistakable presence of someone else breathing behind her.

Danny lay still. He was still turned away, distance carefully preserved, like he’d spent the night holding that line on purpose.

CJ exhaled slowly and shifted just enough to sit up, careful not to wake him. The mattress dipped, and she paused — then continued anyway, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The second her feet found the floor, she felt reality crashing in.

She desperately needed to put as much distance between them as possible. Not because of anything he had done —he had been nothing but a gentleman— but she needed to put as much space as she could between them. CJ grabbed her robe again, wrapping it tightly around her like armor, and grabbed yesterday’s clothes, which had been neatly folded on her desk chair. She headed to the bathroom to change.

Downstairs, she could hear her father puttering around, cooking, and preparing some coffee.

God, she was going to need so much coffee to survive today.

A few minutes later, CJ took a second at the top of the stairs, schooling her expression into something neutral before heading down. The smell of pancakes was enough to wake her up. Tal was at the stove, cardigan sleeves pushed up, humming under his breath. He looked up immediately.

“Morning, Claudia,” he said easily. “Sleep okay?”

CJ shrugged, moving toward the counter. “Fine.”

“You didn’t sleep,” Tal observed mildly, sliding a plate onto the counter.

“I did,” she said.

“You didn’t sleep that well, then.”

She exhaled through her nose. “It was a long night.”

“The wind was rather loud, wasn’t it? And got the rain tapping loudly on the sill.”

“Yeah.”

He studied her for a moment. CJ immediately felt like a teenager, which she didn’t like. She was too old to wither under a parent's scrutiny.

“You’re wound tight.”

“I am not wound tight.”

“Claudia.”

She hated that tone. She felt like she had done something wrong, but she hadn’t. The implicit, You need to relax.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “I didn’t expect any of this, honestly. My brain is going a hundred miles an hour, trying to catch up and make sure things are okay. I like the job, and now I wonder if it’s going to be in jeopardy.”

He nodded slowly but didn’t look convinced.

“Your friend still asleep?”

“He’s a reporter for the campaign. He’s been with us from the start, but we aren’t really friends.”

Tal raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. “Should we wake up your colleague then? Should I use work acquaintance?”

“I think he’ll be down here in no time.”

As if on cue, the stairs creaked, and her pulse automatically spiked. Danny appeared in the doorway dressed, composed, and, quite honestly, too calm for someone who had occupied her subconscious mere hours earlier. Not much different from her, but without the frazzled look that had her dad probing for answers. Though he obviously didn’t know and couldn’t know about it.

Having that kind of fantasy in her childhood bed should be… forbidden.

“Morning, sir. Morning, CJ.”

“Morning, Daniel,” Tal said warmly. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

CJ did not look at him, but was still too aware of where he was as Tal handed him a freshly poured mug. “Sleep all right?”

Danny hesitated just a fraction of a second. “Yes, sir.”

She filed away that pause, as well as her dad’s quick look.

“Well, that’s good,” he said, deciding not to prod further. “Seems like the storm has mostly passed and is on its way down south, so you two should be good to catch up with your circus without much trouble.”

CJ nodded. “I guess Dale will arrive in less than half an hour, right?”

“Mmhm.”

It was only then that she dared glance at Danny, seeking confirmation on this. When their eyes almost met, he glanced toward the window instead.

Thank God for small mercies. Even if she was undoubtedly curious as to why he was being evasive. Had she kicked him too much? Pushed him away? Snored? Or maybe he was as aware of how unnecessarily intimate last night had been.

Tal set a stack of pancakes on the table and gestured for them to sit, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Eat before you go,” he said. “You’ll need it.”

CJ slid into her usual chair. Danny hesitated half a second before taking the one opposite her instead of beside, unlike last night. The choice pricked on her skin.

“So,” Tal said lightly, pouring some maple syrup. “What’s the verdict here?”

CJ kept her eyes on her plate. “We survived.”

Danny smiled faintly into his coffee. “Not thanks to this very cooperative weather.”

“Oh, also — I work with people who couldn’t pick me out of a lineup,” CJ lamented half-seriously. “All my life standing out, and this happens. I’m not sure how to feel about it.”

For a few minutes, the only sounds were the clink of forks against plates and the low hum of the coffee maker. CJ focused on the eating, on the welcome warmth of the mug in her hands, on her father… On anything that wasn’t the quiet awareness of the man across from her.

At one point, she reached for the syrup for the last bite at the same time Danny did, and their fingers brushed. Much as she didn’t want to, she felt sparks the second her fingertips grazed his palm. CJ tried to tell herself it was just the tension she was feeling over the last few hours, but knew it wasn’t true. They both pulled back immediately.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It’s fine,” she replied, too quickly.

Tal cleared his throat softly but said nothing, looking curiously at the two of them.

CJ forced herself to look up then and met Danny’s blue eyes fully. For half a second, the night that hadn’t happened appeared before her. The one that had, too. She didn’t have a reference for whether she’d feel this strange after sharing a bed with anyone else on this campaign, but it was a special kind of weirdness with him.

The suspended moment eventually ended when a car’s horn sounded faintly outside. She would be lying if she didn’t admit she felt relieved at knowing she’d soon be on her way.

“I can go tell him you’ll be ready in a second.”

Her dad stood up at the same time Danny did. The reporter picked up his plate and mug, unsure of how to proceed.

“Sink’s fine, son. Don’t worry about it.”

Danny nodded, setting the mug down carefully. “Thank you again, sir. For everything.”

Tal tipped his head. “Of course.”

Her dad extended his hand, which Danny shook vigorously. “I said it yesterday, but I’m grateful for you and your daughter’s generosity. She’s just… very special. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“You flatter me, Daniel. If there were more people like you, people wouldn’t distrust journalists as much.” CJ was about to retort, but her father added, “And please, if and when you publish it, please send me a copy.”

Danny’s cheeks turned pink at that moment, though CJ was confused as to what it might refer to. Had she really missed this much while she was upstairs? Or was it some conversation she hadn’t paid much attention to?

“I’ll let Dale know you’ll be right out,” Danny added, briefly sparing a glance, already stepping toward the door as he grabbed his coat.

CJ didn’t look at him as he passed, but she felt it, the subtle shift in air as he moved by, careful not to brush her shoulder.

Silence settled immediately in his wake, and Tal turned to her slowly.

“Well,” he said.

She bristled. “Well, what?”

He studied her face in that infuriatingly patient way. “You’re thinking too hard.”

“I am not.”

“Claudia.”

She exhaled sharply. “It was a long night. In a long week. Campaigns are a grind; I’ve told you this.”

“Yeah. It’s not what I’m talking about.” He stepped forward and pulled her into a quick hug before she could argue. “Call me when you get there.”

“I will.”

“And try to sleep tonight.”

She pulled back, defensive. “I slept okay.”

“Let’s aim for well tonight, then.”

“Might not be easy.” She paused. “It was so nice to see you, Dad. Thank you for taking me in in my hour of need.”

“I always love to see my not-so-little Claudia.”

“Love you, Daddy.”

“Love you too, sweetheart. Be safe.”

CJ hugged him more tightly, unshed tears pooling in her eyes.

After a beat, she grabbed her coat and walked out of the house. CJ stepped onto the front door and wasn’t surprised to find Danny already outside, talking to Dale beneath a shared umbrella.

Danny straightened slightly when he saw her. That made it worse. Whatever she had done, it had damaged their normally easy rapport, but it didn’t seem like she could get a second with him.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Danny opened the passenger door for her, always chivalrous and sweet.

“Thanks,” she said, climbing in.

He closed the door carefully, not too hard, then circled around to the back. She watched him in the side mirror without meaning to, especially the way he paused before getting in, the small adjustment of his coat, as if buying himself a breath.

He slid into the seat behind her again.

“You guys have a good night?” Dale asked genuinely as he pulled away from the curb.

“Lots of wind and rain,” CJ said lightly. “Eh.”

“Yeah,” Danny added. “Made it difficult to get some restful sleep… But we got some.”

“It was just one night,” CJ continued, smooth now. “We’re lucky the weather cleared when it did. You’re a prince for coming out this early, Dale.”

“Campaigns don’t wait for weather,” Danny said. “I’ve seen worse. I think I’ve gone a week or so without getting direct sunlight.”

“Oh, yes. I have seen it all as a canvasser, too.”

Dale launched immediately into past campaigns he had worked on and the many logistical and weather-related hiccups he had endured, from flooded basements to frozen fingers to a state senate race that saw only rain in its final stretch.

“You guys are one of the nicest,” he assured them quickly. “From what I saw and experienced, you guys treated everyone like humans, which is not something to take for granted… Sadly.”

CJ latched onto that, especially since she felt like a bigger impostor every day. It was fun to slip into her spokesperson mode without risking anything.

But, for whatever reason, she was still acutely aware of Danny’s presence behind her. Of him and his attention on her, even if he wasn’t saying much.

Every time he leaned forward to speak, she felt it. The brush of air near her shoulder. The quiet, steady cadence of his voice when he asked something precise and neutral.

It was the exact composure she had hoped to have after last night, and CJ resented that he seemed to have mastered it.

“Remind me,” he said after a lull, “are you sticking with the education line in Columbus? Or pivoting to healthcare? I don’t have the schedule in front of me.”

“Education,” she answered immediately. “But bring in the economics angle if they press. Of course, this might have all changed in the time I’ve been away. Service was spotty at best last night.”

Danny paused briefly, processing her words, filing them somewhere in his brain for later.

“Right,” he said. “That tracks. Okay.”

In the rearview mirror, their eyes met for half a second, and it felt like a return to their easy rapport. This time, neither of them looked away.

Danny smiled at her, and she could only smile back.

The highway stretched ahead, wet but clearing. The storm was already behind them.