The more I see Henry in action, the more impressed I am.

He’s professional and serious, and he clearly knows how to run this operation. The crew clearly looks up to him, even though two of them are older than he is. He knows just what to say to me to make me feel less nervous, and he seems to know when I just need to be left alone. He’s funny, he’s smart, he’s handsome, and he makes me feel like a kid again.

That’s such a cliché, of course, but I haven’t felt this heart-thumping rush of excitement to be around a person since… well, since I last was with him.

That night, after the first interview, I do some Googling. Henry went to Michigan and got a Master’s at Notre Dame. He’s been with WBN ever since, and he produced some of their best work. The guy really is a serious media vet already, and he’s barely a few months older than I am.

The Henry I remember didn’t care about any of this. The Henry I remember wasn’t the most driven or idealistic person in the world, although he was always really smart. His parents didn’t encourage his education, when they bothered to pay any attention to him at all. His father wanted him to be a mechanic, and it seemed like he was going to skip college entirely. I wanted to go to school nearby, so that we wouldn’t have to do a long distance relationship, but that was before he broke up with me.

Still, I know he wanted to get out of that little town and do something, but I never dreamed he’d end up doing this. I never pictured him as the kind of guy that would put his life on the line for a story, the way he did in Afghanistan. I always knew he was capable, but I never knew he wanted it.

And now look at him. He says I’m all grown up, but he’s the one that’s changed.

I keep seeing the way he looked at me just after the interview. We were breaking down the lighting and I was making small talk with Linda Sawyer. I caught him looking at me when he thought I wouldn’t notice, and I saw something in his expression that surprises me. It was an intense desire… the way he used to look at me when we were kids, before he broke my heart. I’ll never forget that look. It always made me feel like the only girl in the entire world.

And it still has that effect. Maybe even more powerful now, since it’s coming from a man instead of the boy he used to be.

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I know I was flirting with him back at the van, even though I didn’t want to. I just couldn’t help myself. He makes me smile and laugh, makes me comfortable even when I don’t want to feel comfortable. I want that anger back, that anger I felt when I first saw him, but it’s slowly fading away.

He was right after all, yesterday in the hall. We need to put the past behind us and learn to work together. We have no other choice.

I go to sleep early and get up early the next morning, even though our next appointment isn’t until the midafternoon. The guys are all sleeping when I get up and go for a jog through Sellersville.

I probably shouldn’t be out alone, but I can’t help myself. It reminds me so much of our old town. I know this place is dangerous, despite looking like a normal suburb. There’s a cancer lurking underneath the surface, slowly eating away at the people. I notice a couple of homeless guys already out, although the sun is barely rising. I don’t feel like I’m in danger, but I don’t feel safe, either. It’s a strange feeling, like I’m being watched.

When I get back to the hotel, Henry is in the lobby, pouring himself some coffee from the little continental breakfast. He looks up as I walk in, the air conditioning blasting against my sweaty skin, giving me the slight chills. Or maybe that’s his handsome eyes, drilling into my body.

“Morning,” he says to me, a little smile on his face. “Went for a run?”

I nod. “Keeps me fresh,” I say.

“Good. Just be safe out there.”

I can’t help but notice that he’s checking me out, and normally it would piss me off, but I don’t mind it. I’m wearing short, tight running shorts, and my top is slightly damp. I think I look good and I’m not ashamed to let him stare.

“Boys are still asleep,” he says to me after a beat.

“I’m not surprised. What time did they leave last night?”

“Ten,” he says. “I don’t know how they do it.”

“You sound like an old man. Bill is twice your age, at least.”

“Yeah, well. I’m old at heart.” He grins at me and sips his coffee. “This stuff is awful.”

I laugh and make a face. “I know. But it’s free, so what can you do?”

He sips it again. “Anyway, I’m going for a walk. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Sure.” He nods at me and heads out the front door. I watch him for a second, wondering what he’s doing, but I let it go. Instead, I head upstairs, shower, and prep for the upcoming work.

* * *

The church is air conditioned, but it’s barely keeping up with the heat. They have fans set up in the corner, blowing tepid air over our skin, as the guys get their lighting and sound rigged up.

The girls are all around my age, but they look older. Not in their skin or anything, maybe their teeth if I had to point at something physical, but really it’s in the way they hold themselves. Like they’re all drawn in on themselves, closed off, shut down. There’s a weight that doesn’t seem to go away, not even when they laugh and smile, which Henry seems to be able to make them do effortlessly.

I get back to my notes, not letting it get to me. They’re subjects, after all. He has to be nice to them, get them feeling comfortable, prep them for my questions. We’re interviewing some ex-addicts, women that got hooked on opioids, mainly fentanyl. Narcotics Anonymous is supposed to be anonymous, of course, it’s built right into the name, but a lot of ex-addicts like to try and help others. Doing an interview for our story is one way for them to reach out.

“How you feeling?”

I look up and Henry’s standing there, smiling down at me.

“Fine,” I say. I shift a little in my seat and he pulls up an old beat-up metal folding chair. He sits and crosses his legs.

“First girl’s name is Ashley, nice girl. Lean on her,” he says. “The other one’s named Renee, but she’s a quitter. Harder to draw out. I think you’ll get your best stuff from Ashley.”

“Okay,” I say. I glance over at the girls. One’s blonde, about my height, but skeletally thin. I think she’s Ashley. The other’s the polar opposite: short, heavier, dark hair.

“How’d this even happen?” I ask him, wondering aloud, not really expecting an answer.

He seems to know what I mean. “Hard to say. Too many doctors prescribing too many painkillers, maybe. Huge lack of education on the dangers of it.”

I shake my head. “Can’t just be that. There’s got to be a human angle.”

He gives me a strange look. “That’s what I was thinking.”

I smile at him. “Always is, isn’t there? Human angle?”

“That’s what we’re here for, I guess.”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

I stare into his eyes and he puts his hand on my leg. His palm is large and warm and it’s further up my thigh than is really professional, but I don’t mind it. In fact, it feels damn good.

“You’re going to do great,” he says seriously.

“Yeah, thanks,” I say, heart hammering. I suddenly have the insane desire for him to slide his hand up a little further, to push the hem of my dress up over my hips, to feel my warm, wet little pussy.

But he pulls way his hand and stands. “We’re going in five,” he says.

“I’m ready.”

He nods and heads off to prep everyone else.

I stare after him, chills running down my spine. I don’t know what the hell that was. Putting his hand on my leg was so familiar, it’s like something he would have done years ago, but now… it’s inappropriate. It’s maybe even a little wrong.

And it felt so damn good.

I shake my head and take a deep breath. I can’t get too rattled. I turn back to my notes, and soon I’m sitting under the lights, running through the interview.

Things go smoothly from there, but I can’t shake that nagging feeling about Henry. I can’t stop thinking about his hand on my leg, and what it meant, and how it made me feel. I’m trying to be as present as possible in the interview, and I think it goes down as well as can be expected, but still. When we’re done, I practically can’t look at Henry without thinking about his hands on my bare skin.

We break it all down and pack it all up. The girls thank us, we leave them our contact information and ask them to spread the word about our piece. The guys pack the van up, and just as they finish, Billy comes back with a frown on his face.

“What’s up?” Henry asks him.

“Something weird,” he says. “Bunch of guys, gangbanger types.”

Henry’s whole disposition suddenly shifts. He goes from loose and relaxed to serious, like a tiger poised to jump.

“Where?” he asks.

“Across the street. Four of them. Just watching.” Billy seems serious too. They’re speaking fast, like it’s in code. Like they’ve done this before.

“Come on,” Henry says to me. “Let’s head back to the hotel.”

“Is everything okay?” I ask him as we walk out of the church, Billy in the lead.

“Gangs run this town,” Henry says softly. “And they’re not going to be happy about a bunch of journalists poking around. I doubt they’d do anything, but still…” He trails off, looking across the street.

The sunlight is nearly blinding, but quickly I adjust and I spot the guys. Just as Billy said, there are four of them, all standing around a beat-up truck and staring directly at us. They don’t move or act surprised when we look back at them. They’re young, probably in their early twenties, wearing baggy clothes and Confederate flag bandanas.

“Come on,” Henry says. “Let’s go.”

We get into the van and he starts it up. Trace and Miller are already in there, sitting quietly and watching the gang members.

We drive out into traffic, and the gang guys don’t do a thing. They just stand there, watching us.

I’m totally creeped out, and I have a bad feeling for the rest of the drive back. We go in silence, and I can tell Henry is brooding a little bit. When we park at the hotel, he turns to me as the guys climb out.

“Don’t let that bother you,” he says to me. “They were just trying to intimidate us.”

“Did it work?” I ask him.

He grins at me. “I’ve seen much, much worse. Still, we should be careful.”

I nod. “Okay. Whatever you say, boss.”

He grins at that. “I like hearing that from you.”

I roll my eyes. “I was joking. Don’t get all excited.”

“Can’t help myself, I guess.”

I laugh and feel more at ease already. He has that effect on me, always making me feel more comfortable, even when I don’t want to feel comfortable.

We head back to the hotel, but I can’t get Henry out of my mind. Everything he does drives deeper inside of me, and I feel things waking up, things I thought were dead and buried. I need to concentrate on my work. I can’t let myself get entangled with him, not so easily.