Page 25 of Redeeming Melodies

After leaving Sarah's Diner, I decided to explore the town a bit. Anything to avoid checking my messages or dealing with the shitstorm waiting back in the real world. The morning air felt clean here, carrying the scent of fresh-cut grass and someone's garden roses instead of exhaust and paparazzi desperation.

Then I saw him.

Riley fucking Stanton, emerging from a coffee shop with his usual notebook tucked under his arm. Of all the people to run into in this supposedly quiet town, it had to be the reporter who'd made my last three races a living hell with his "inside sources" and speculation about my marriage.

"Elliot Blue." He approached slowly, like someone trying not to spook a wild animal. "Of all the small towns in all the world..."

"If you're looking for a story, Riley, I'm not interested." My hands clenched in my pockets. "Had enough of your 'exclusive insights' to last a lifetime."

"Not everything's about getting a story." He sipped his coffee, looking annoyingly calm. "Sometimes a guy getting coffee is just a guy getting coffee."

"Right. Like that time you were 'just getting coffee' outside Tommy's school?"

"Fair point." He had the grace to look slightly ashamed. "But that was work-Riley. This is home-Riley. Different guy entirely."

I snorted. "Split personality? That's your defense?"

"More like... different priorities." He gestured to a nearby bench. "Look, can we talk? Off the record, no notebook, no bullshit. Just two guys in a small town."

"Why should I trust you?"

"Because unlike the city, where I have to fight every other vulture for scraps of news, here I actually give a damn about the people I write about." He set his coffee down and held up his hands. "No recorder, no phone, no hidden agenda. Just conversation."

Against my better judgment, I sat. "Start talking."

"First off, I'm sorry about the school thing. That was low, even for circuit press."

The apology caught me off guard. "Since when does Riley Stanton apologize?"

"Since always, when I'm home." He ran a hand through his hair, looking more human than I'd ever seen him. "Look, the racing circuit? That's my job. But this town? This is my life. Here, I write about local festivals and high school football games. Real news about real people."

"And what am I? Just another headline?"

"Right now? You're a guy who looks like he needs a break from headlines." He met my eyes directly. "I saw Vanessa's interview."

My jaw clenched. "Here we go."

"No, listen. I saw it, and I saw what she was doing. That calculated timing, the perfect sound bites - she played it like a pro." He shook his head. "And I'm guessing that's why you ended up here, right? Running from the fallout?"

"You don't know anything about it."

"I know she waited until right before or after the custody hearing. Know she timed it to make you look unstable." His voice stayed level. "And I know because I've seen her do it before, to other people. She's good at what she does."

The accuracy of his assessment hit like a punch to the gut. "So what's your angle here, Riley? Going to write about the fallen champion hiding in small-town America?"

"My angle is this, Oakwood Grove saved me once. Back when I was young and stupid and thought burning bridges was a sport." He picked up his coffee again. "This town has a way of giving people what they need, even if they don't know they need it."

"And what do you think I need?"

"Time. Space. Maybe a reminder that not everyone's out to get a piece of you." He stood up, brushing off his pants. "So here's the deal, as far as the Oakwood Grove Gazette is concerned, you're just another visitor passing through. Your business is your business."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that." He pulled out a business card - not his usual glossy racing press one, but a simple local paper card. "But if you ever want to tell your side of the story, not for headlines but for truth? You know where to find me."

I stared at the card, trying to reconcile this version of Riley with the shark I'd known on the circuit. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because contrary to what you might think, I'm actually a pretty decent journalist. I just play an asshole on TV." His smile turned wry. "Besides, anyone Jake Thompson decides to help instead of ticket? They're probably worth giving a chance."

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