Page 85 of Sex Coach

"Whitley McCrane ."

Her brows rose over her eyes. "Ahhh...I see. I didn't realize you knew her ."

"I don't. I just..." Hesitating a little, I managed to swallow. My voice was husky enough that I don't think she even thought much of it. "I read about it. People were talking about her, and I saw an article ."

It wasn't that far fetched a story, or even much of a lie, because I had heard people talking about her. I'd just had the information beforehand .

"Whitley said..." Blowing out a slow, careful breath, I closed my eyes and reminded myself that I didn't want to start crying in here. I didn't want to freak out in here. I could do this. "She said she felt free after it was all out there. She said she wished she'd had the courage to come forward on her own, but that whoever had done it...they'd done her a favor." I laughed weakly, but the sound, soft as it was, had a note of disbelief. "She gets raked over the coals and countless online new magazines dragged her name through the mud, and she's happy about it. Because they told the story she didn't have the courage to tell ."

* * *

"C an I ask you something personal?"

As we idled to a stop in front of my building, I gave my aunt a narrow look. "Kind of a weird time to ask me that, isn't it ?"

"Considering that I can lock the doors and keep you inside until you answer?" She wagged her brows at me. Then thumbed the locks so they locked. "Ha, ha. No. Seriously, Michelle. You've...changed over the past few weeks. You're more confident. More focused. Steadier." She inclined her head. "Stronger. I asked you once, and you said no, but I can't help but think I'm missing something ."

My gut clenched .

"Honey, are you seeing somebody?" she asked, reaching over to touch my cheek .

"No." I met her eyes and shook my head, completely honest this time. "I was. But things...didn't work out ."

"Why not ?"

"That's...personal," I said stiffly. "There was an issue. He didn't believe me over something important. He ended it ."

"Maybe you should go after him and make him believe you." Her hands took mine, and she squeezed. "It sounds like he helped you find out who you are...and you found out you're a very strong woman, Michelle. It takes one hell of a man to help a woman discover that about herself. So, fight for him ."

* * *

F ight for him.

A part of me wanted to, but there was no way that was going to happen .

Not when he believed what he believed .

It was one thing to have a misunderstanding, but I wasn't going to fight upstream to make him see that I hadn't done anything wrong .

Tears burned my eyes, and I didn't try to fight them back. Instead, I let them come and wipe them away on occasion. Staring out the window into the overcast New York City afternoon, I wondered what might have happened between us if he'd maybe, just maybe asked instead of accused, if he'd given me a chance instead of just deciding I was some bloodthirsty paparazzi .

New York had its share of them .

I didn't think much of the sort of reporter who'd chase a woman and her children down in search of some story. I didn't think much of photographers who lurked around trying to catch pictures of celebrities at their worst .

Maybe it was a job, but it was a pretty shitty one, and it was one that made other people feel lousy .

That wasn't me .

I'd never taken a single assignment I couldn't feel proud about, and I'd refused more than a few because I hadn't felt right about trying to tackle them .

Maybe if he'd known me ...

"But he didn't." Tipping my head back, I stared up at the sky and blew out a breath. Jake hadn't known me. He'd just decided he knew enough .

Fight for him ?

Fight for...what? Us ?

There wasn't an us .

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