Page 31 of In the Defensive Zone with My Enemy

I push her finger down. “I don’t recall hearing a question, so how can I be avoiding it?”

Now I sound like Luke, reasoning my way out of being honest.

Can I not go an hour without thinking of that man?

“Looks good.” Actually, it looks fantastic, but I stand behind Marty, looking over his shoulder as he shows me the first spread of the series on his computer screen. Coach Markelson has to be among the youngest coaches in the ECHL, but despite his youth, he appears confident and wise.

He beams one of his proud uncle grins at me. “Your photos came out great, Soph. You could have a career in that alone. If you wanted to, that is.”

“Are you trying to tell me something, Marty?”

He waves me off and tugs his glasses down his nose as I take a seat on the other side of his desk. “No, not at all. Just thinking down the road when you decide to write that first book.”

“Book? Who said I’m going to write a book?”

His lopsided smile warms my heart. He slips his glasses off, folds them thoughtfully, and places them on the calendar blotter on his desk. The man still prefers to keep a paper schedule in front of him at all times—a leftover from his early days as a news reporter.

“I seem to recall a young girl about to head off to college, talking about her dream of being a novelist.”

“Yeah, then the reality of what it took to be an author settled in, and I didn’t like the pay. Besides, I make a much better journalist.”

“They’re not exclusive, kiddo. I can picture you creating a photo book replete with philosophical ponderings to accompany your imagery.”

Not a bad idea, actually. “I kind of like that idea.”

“Good. Something for you to chew on down the road.” He gestures to his screen. “This will run tomorrow. I’ll need your piece covering the game the night of.”

“No problem. I’ll email it to you from my hotel room. That should give me plenty of time.”

“Perfect. I’ll make sure they hold the space for it.” He steeples his fingers in front of him. “What about the piece about the captain? Luke…?”

“Jameson?”

He nods.

“I’m hoping to finish his interview on the bus ride up.”

“I thought you were driving up on your own.”

I groan. “That was the plan, but when I talked to Coach Markelson, hoping he could fill in the blanks for the rest of what I needed, he saw right through it. Sat us both down in his office and ordered us to get it done on the ride up.”

His concern radiates in his frown and his tone. “Ordered?”

“More like strongly suggested.”

“Ah, I see. Is Jameson still not warming up to the idea?”

I shake my head. “He has a serious mistrust of the press.”

Marty sighs. “I don’t blame him.” He taps on his keyboard and brings the printer to life. “After you told me you were having some challenges there, I did some research into the articles about his mother’s accident. One reporter dug up some dirt and did an exposé on his father.”

“I found nothing like that when I poked around.” I wiggle to the edge of my seat in anticipation of what Marty found.

He grins at me. “I have contacts.”

“Of course you do.” I snicker.

He reaches behind him and grabs the sheets printing out, then hands them to me. “A little homework for tonight. Maybe that will help you connect better with Luke.”

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