Page 70 of Who's Saving You
My mind is churning with ideas; I have to push him. If our night together meant anything, he has to be able to let me in because I have to be able to tell him my thoughts, what I’ve found, and try to make it make sense.
“I can’t write a damn word now, can I?” I snap back, stepping closer to him. “But I can ask why. If any piece of it is true, why would you risk it? Your career, your name, your entire life. Why are you even associating with the people you are? Stop lying to me, explain it to me, and let me in.”
His eyes flash, finally alive with something raw. “Why did I do it? You want to knowwhy? Because my dad owed two hundred and fifty grand to a bookie who threatened to take ‘monthly payments’ from my mother.”
The words hit like a knife, deep and sharp. They’re so totally unexpected that I stop breathing for a second.
“You… what?”
He steps closer to me now, closing the distance between us, his voice strained and fighting for control.
“You wanted a story, right? There it is. He gambled everything away, then relied on me to clean it up. I had two choices: lose a game or lose a parent.”
He’s inches from me now. Heat radiates off his skin, anger and shame, and something else —something worse. Something completely opposite to how Saint Nik is portrayed.
“I made a choice,” he says.
“And then you let someone else take the fall.”
He throws his hands up in the air before running them through his hair. He’s an entirely different man than thestoic, in-control one I’ve known, and even more completely different than the sexy one I had the other night. “Because I was young, scared, and stupid, and no one gave a shit about Trevor Raines,includingTrevor Raines. I had a chance out of that town, and he couldn’t catch a pass to save his life. I had an opportunity he wouldn’t ever get. So I took it.”
The silence after is so thick in the room that it could choke me. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to an admission that sounds so selfish it’s the last thing the public would expect coming from Saint Nik Papas. I don’t even know what Ifeel. I just know my chest is tight, and something inside me aches. So when I speak, it comes out softer than I expect.
“Why didn’t you tell me that?”
His laugh is bitter. “Because you’re a reporter, and you were going to use my story to launch your career.”
“You think I’d take something like this and use it to catapult me? You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me!” I push him, and he covers my hands with his, holding me in place, touching his chest.
“I know plenty, Noelle.”
“My career doesn’t need launching, fuck you very much.”
His lips twitch, but he holds my stare and my hand. I’m suddenly very aware that we are touching again, alone in his dark condo. I swallow hard. “Tell me. Tell me how it happened, and tell me what’s going on now. Tell me what it has to do with Rhett and why I’m in danger for talking about it.”
His hands wrap around my wrists, and he pulls them off his chest. “You don’t need to know.”
“I’m kind of smack dab in the middle of it. Don’t you think Ideserveto know?”
He raises a brow. “I’ll tell you what you need to know when it concerns you.”
I throw my hands up. “The whole thing concerns me, Nik! I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to understand what the fuck is going on. I’m coming across hidden press releases and redacted articles. I’m piecing shit together that may or may not be true, and you don’t think it concerns me? For all I know, I'm chasing the wrong tips, and what I'm putting together could be dangerous. To you and to me.”
His eyes are on fire, his breathing ragged, and I think I may have gone too far. “What did you find?”
I step away from him, suddenly nervous about what I need to say. I’m not afraid of him, but I’m scared of the reaction. I don't know what I’m reading exactly, so I may be entirely off base. But he needs to know.
“Who’s EP INC?”
He stares at me and shakes his head slightly. “I don't know. What is that?”
I swallow. “It’s the name I found through some buried articles.”
“Buried articles? What are you talking about?”
“In the athletic archives. There’s info about that sophomore game. EP INC was named as a crisis containment group.”
His eyes dart around my face, and I can almost see the thoughts racing through his mind. “I know I’m not giving enough info, because none of it is piecing together easily. But EP INC is connected to another LLC owned by Eva Papas.”
