Page 104 of Who's Saving You
Stone shakes his head. “No. I think Dante took it upon himself to be Nik's guide because his dad was so lost. Dante made sure he always had what he needed: practice gear, cleats, and food.”
“That’s a good friend.”
“Yup. I think Dante saw a bit of himself in Nik and the two of them bonded.”
The city zooms past us as we drive, heading toward my office building. “Why are you telling me all this?”
He grows quiet. “Because Nik is in a high-profile position, and he needs to know that the people around him are good. That they love him. He’s been kicked over a fewtimes, but his core group right now? Dante, Loving, and Soba… you… you all love him, and he needs that.”
I grin in my seat and tease, “Is this your way of warning me?”
He pulls into the parking lot of Falls Press and puts the car in park. “Warning you? No, I knew you were all in the moment you mouthed back at him the night you first came to the club.” He chuckles. “I knew you were going to hold your own against him. No, I say it because he’s going to doubt people's true intentions now, and you need to be the one to guide him through it. You’re the one he loves, so you’re going to have to sift through the mess.”
“How do you know he loves me?”
“Psst. How do Inot?” He winks at me. “Go on in. I’ll be right here waiting for you.”
I roll my lips in, grab my bag, and check to make sure my notebook is inside. “Thanks, Stone. For everything.” I open the car door and get out, arching my neck back to look at the high-rise building before me. I close my eyes, take a breath, and whisper to myself, “It’s now or never,” as I shut the door and walk towards a new day.
~~
Walking into the building, I thought I’d have some nervous energy. I thought maybe I’d even have a bit of sadness that where I started and how it’s ending are not what I envisioned. But instead, when I take the elevator to the third floor and step out, inhaling that same old recycled, day-old coffee smell, I feel invigorated. I feel in control.
I walk in, believing there is still so much life left here for me, and as long as I can relay that to Sherrece, we’re going to go places and do big things.
But if not?
I’ll clean out my desk today.
I round the corner and find my editor sitting behind her desk, glasses perched low, nails tapping against the wood with the sound of disapproval. She’s staring at her laptop, no doubt skimming over last-minute changes to tomorrow’s stories.
I knock lightly, and she looks up. She doesn’t say a word, nor does she stand. She just waves me in. I drop my shoulders and square my chest, taking a deep breath before walking in.
“You’re late,” she says flatly. “And unless you’re here to hand me the takedown you promised, you’re wasting both our time.”
There it is, the ultimatum that’s pushed me from the beginning. Find the scandal, deliver the dirt, and rise to the top. It was enticing. I wanted to break something open, but I had no idea what I was stepping into.
I set my notebook on the desk between us, the way a soldier might set down a weapon, laying myself bare, wanting to be able to speak freely and with nothing between us. “You’ll get your story,” I said, my voice steady. “But it won’t be the one you think you want.”
Her eyes flicked up, sharp and calculating. “Excuse me?”
“You wanted a scandal. You wanted me to write the fall of Saint Nik. But that’s not the truth.” My throat tightens, but I don't flinch. “What I have is better. It’s about survival, family, and the man behind the jersey. The story isn’t about tearing him down. It’s about showing who he really is. And if you run it right, it’ll get more eyes than your smear job ever could.”
She leans back in her chair, unimpressed, and for a moment, I can almost hear her thoughts:rookie reporter, soft heart, nokiller instinct.
Just like they said about Nik:rookie wasn’t ready, rookie can’t catch, rookie needs his friends.
But I wasn’t soft, and I wasn't letting her push me around on this. I stayed silent when Dylan screwed me over, and I stayed silent when my first editor was being a misogynist. Not anymore.
“You’re not here to tell me how to do my job,” she says.
“No,” I shoot back, my pulse pounding in my ears, “I’m here to tell you how I’m going to do mine. This started as an assignment, but it stopped being just another story a long time ago. You sent me to dig up dirt, and instead, I found a man who has fought harder than anyone to stand where he is. A man who carries his family’s name like armor. A man who saved me when I didn’t even know I needed saving.”
Her expression flickers with annoyance, maybe even a bit of disbelief. I know she’s thinking I’m just blinded by a good dick.I am. And I don’t care.
“This isn’t just about Nik,” I continue, heat rising in my chest. “It’s about me. About who I am as a reporter, and who I refuse to become. I won’t sell my soul for a headline. Not his, and definitely not mine.”
The silence stretches, thick and suffocating. She folds her arms, but I keep going because, for once, I’m not afraid of losing.
