Page 85 of Score to Settle
He shrugs. “Say, ‘See you Monday, Tim.’”
I laugh. “See you Monday, Tim.”
As soon as I’m out of his office, I’m racing to my desk to grab my things. Callie gives me a curious look, but the usual venom is gone. There’s no time to explain as I run to the elevator. I’m jamming my finger against the call button, urging it to hurry, when the opening lines of the feature land in my thoughts.
When I was sent to Jake Sullivan’s family ranch to meet the man himself, I assumed I was meeting a privileged football star. A man with an ego. A man with a reputation he deserved. I thought I knew all there was to know about Jake before I set foot on Oakwood Ranch. But I was wrong. Jake Sullivan is nothing like I expected. He’s so much more.
FORTY-ONE
HARPER
It’s close to midnight in New York when the yellow cab hits Manhattan. As the taxi weaves through the busy streets, I stare out the window, feeling the same awe I felt arriving in New York this time nearly a year ago. Towering skyscrapers stretch like beacons into the pitch-black sky. The stars I marveled at from the skylight in the barn with Jake are lost to the bright billboards and flashing neon signs advertising everything from the latest Broadway shows to nightclubs and restaurants. The city pulses with an electric energy that seeps in through the cab windows and seems to charge the air. It stirs something within me. This is the city I spent so much of my life dreaming about. This is the city where I thought I could carve out a life that was truly my own.
“Where to?” the driver asks from the front of the cab.
“I…” A dawning horror hits me. I spent the three-hour flight furiously writing Jake’s feature. With the first lines in place, the rest has slotted together exactly as I hoped and I emailed a draft to Tim as the plane taxied across the runway at LaGuardia. I already know it’s my best work. But it meant I spent no time thinking about what I’d do when I actually reached New York. I have no idea where Jake is. And even though I could call him,something holds me back. I don’t want to give him a heads-up. I need to see him. To see his reaction in real time. To stand before him and tell him I love him. If he decides to walk away, I know my heart will shatter into a million pieces and maybe I’ll never recover, but at least I’ll know I gave it my all.
I’m staring at my phone, wondering what to do, when a message arrives. It’s from Callie.
When I was arranging your hotel, the Stormhawks travel coordinator sent me the travel itinerary for all of their games. Thought you might want to know the team is staying in The Manhattan. Jake is room 341. Good luck.
I grin—her timing couldn’t have been better—and send back a hurried thank you as I tell the driver where he’s going. Maybe Callie and I will become friends, if we give each other a chance.
My phone is still gripped in my hand when it rings.
“Jake?” I say by way of hello.
“No. I’m sorry. This is Genevieve Rose from the HR department connected toInsight. Is this Harper Cassidy?”
“Yes. Hi.”
“I apologize for calling late, but I’ve been struggling to reach you for the last few days. I wonder if you have any time next week to come into the office and discuss your dismissal. We believe a grave error may have occurred and we hope you may consider restarting your internship with us, Ms. Cassidy.”
It’s not news. Tim told me as much in his office earlier today, though I still can’t believe it. My gaze draws back to the window and the bright city lights cutting into the darkness. Even now, heart racing, urging the taxi on, desperate to reach Jake, I feel the pull of this city. And yet, it’s not home. However much this city might hold a piece of my heart and my past, it’s not my future.
“Thank you for the offer,” I say at last. “I’m really grateful for the opportunity, but I have a new position I’m happy with.”
Genevieve wishes me luck and we say goodbye as the taxi turns onto 7th Avenue. The truth hits me. I’ve spent so many months worrying about keeping my job that it’s only recently I’ve realized how much I like working atSports Magazine. And I like the idea of writing in-depth features. It’s the kind of work I enjoy and it gives me time to continue writing novels if I want to. The thought sends a new buzz of energy humming through my veins. I think of the contact details Tim emailed me for his sister-in-law. A month ago, I’d have deleted the email, convincing myself I wasn’t good enough to be a novelist.
As the taxi draws up to the imposing glass entrance of the hotel, I decide I’ll call her next week. I’ve spent most of my life chasing a dream I thought was mine but was really my dad’s. I’ve also spent far too long hiding myself away, blaming my past for my hang-ups, wanting people to like me without ever opening up to them. That ends now. It’s time I started living my own life. Chasing my own dreams.And not just in my career, I think as Jake dominates my thoughts.
I take a deep breath and stride through the revolving doors into the huge lobby of The Manhattan hotel. I’m still wearing my office skirt and stilettos and my heels tap the floor as I rush to the elevators and jab the call button. My heart pounds against my ribcage as a sickening dread seizes me. What if I’m too late? What if, after everything, I’m the one who’s pushed Jake away for good? I stab the elevator button again, willing the doors to open.
I find room 341 and raise my hand to knock. And then the doubt seizes me again. What if he tells me to go? What if he meant what he said and we were nothing?
I squash the fears down and tap lightly on the door before I can change my mind. A second later it opens and there isJake. Bare-chested and wearing that pair of low-slung basketball shorts that always make my pulse skyrocket. He’s so achingly familiar and gorgeous with his hair mussed from bed.
“Harper?” Jake’s eyes widen with surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I…” Now that I’m standing in front of him, the words clog in my throat. I feel the hot press of tears behind my eyes. I am utterly floored by this man. My throat aches as I remember his words the last time I saw him.
We were nothing.
“You chose me for the feature,” I blurt. It feels like the least important thing I could say and yet they’re the only words that come. “You knew all along it was me who wrote that article in high school.”
He nods. “Even then, you saw through my bullshit. I only got to read that article after one of my idiot friends had made those copies. I couldn’t believe someone I’d never spoken to had managed to see me for who I was. I went to the classroom you suggested we meet in, but you weren’t there.”
My heart pounds in my chest. He came. “I heard you tell your friends…”
