Page 73 of Anatomy of a Player

Honestly, the only thing I could think about was when we were going to get to do it all again.

My phone chimed, and when I picked it up, I saw that Will had sent another text. Last night he’d texted me to say he’d found something. Now he was telling me to get my “arse” down to the office, so he could show me what he’d dug up.

Ugh, I guess I should go face my article and figure out what I’m going to do about it.Lindsay would seriously want to murder me if I told her I wasn’t writing it, and I really hated to disappoint her, but I was toying with abandoning it all the same. How could I write such a scathing commentary about hockey players when I was totally in love with one?

Hudson aside, there were his teammates to think about. Beck, who took care of Lyla, not to mention his sisters, and had been awesome to me while I’d been third-wheeling it with him and Lyla.

Dane had been nice to me, too, and he and Hudson were practically brothers. In fact, Hudson had referred to the entire team as his family. He deserved a good one after the one he’d been born into was so awful.

I thought about how he’d been sliced by broken glass and had to take care of it himself. I could tell he hadn’t even considered calling his mom, which spoke to how unreliable she was. Even mine would show up if I were bleeding.

Then there was the mess with her fiancé—I couldn’t blame Hudson for not wanting the wedding to happen. I didn’t understand how his mama could do that to him. How she could take it a step further, even, asking him to give her away to that jerk.

Last night I’d tried to convince myself that I could still go through with the article, and that Hudson wouldn’t mind, because he’d said we could disagree.

But this wasn’t disagreeing, it was exposing his family. It’d be like someone writing an article that slammed my daddy and divulged every one of his worst qualities, without mentioning any of the good ones. Would I forgive them?

Probably not.

I texted Will that I’d be there in about an hour, then I jumped through the shower and debated my clothing options, looking from my dress pants to my favorite pair of jeans. I grabbed the jeans and tugged them on, deciding I was going to dress more likemefor tonight’s hockey game. Nothing said a sports reporter couldn’t rock a little pink-and-sparkly, or wear her hair down.

It was nice to feel like I could be myself and still do my job, even if I might not have a position at theHeightsafter I finished telling Lindsay that I couldn’t write the article she wanted.

…

Trepidation replaced my determination as I climbed the stairs to the newsroom. The door suddenly weighed about a hundred pounds and took every ounce of effort I had to open. My feet bolted themselves to the floor. I forced one in front of the other, feeling like I was on the way to a firing squad. I guess that was overly dramatic, because at least there wouldn’t be a line of men with guns. But there would be firing, I just knew it.

Will was at his desk, but I didn’t see Lindsay. “Is Lindsay here?”

“On her way,” Will said. “Now come on, I’ve been waiting for you for forever.”

Judging by the three empty cups, he was also over-caffeinated. Usually he typed quickly, but he was going warp speed now.

“I finally found the owner of the email address you gave me.” He pulled up a picture of a guy I’d never seen before. “Calvin Wagner, a second year senior who provides tests for any class you want, for the right price.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, because after you didn’t reply—”

“I was sleeping,” I said, even though there wasn’t much sleeping for the first half of the night.

“The news never sleeps,” he said, and I had to suppress an eye roll. He was going to kill me when I told him I didn’t want him to keep digging. How best to break the news to him without raising his suspicions so he’d just let it go?

I licked my lips. “You know, I think I have enough information without him to—”

“Anyway, I emailed him from a dummy account and asked if he could get me an upcoming test for my class—well, a class I claimed to be enrolled in. He emailed me back this morning and said he’d sell me the test with the answers for two hundred dollars, with instructions to send the money through PayPal, as well as the promise that I’d have the test within twenty-four hours of receiving the payment.

“Once he replied to my email, I was in. Here’s a list of people who’ve emailed him in the past few weeks.” Will clicked his mouse, and a spreadsheet filled the screen.

“Whoa.” I wanted the information far away from me, but at the same time, I couldn’t not look closer. I studied the emails and corresponding names, my heart sinking at the second one from the top.

Dane Kowalski – hockey player

“Shit,” I said, my hands trembling now. A month ago they’d have been trembling with enthusiasm over finding a scoop like this. Now they were trembling for other reasons, reasons I couldn’t even name, but they definitely didn’t feel like excitement.

“I know! Can you believe it?”

The list went on and on. Mixed in were other students, hockey and football players, and one labeled “just his mom.” I was terrified I’d see Hudson’s name in there, but I didn’t. There were, however, more unidentified email addresses running down the page.

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