Chapter 30
Noelle
I told Nik I had to show up at my office.
I can only go so many days hiding out or working from home before I'm forced to come into the building for meetings and whatnot. He wasn’t happy but relented as long as I went with Stone.
In this small town, it seems extreme to be walking around with a bodyguard, but the one thing I've learned is that nothing is as it seems. So, this small town? It’s not about size; it's about who runs it.
After the three of us went for coffee, and Nik let me run a few more interview questions by him, Stone and I enter the building, and he says he’ll be waiting in the lobby for me.
I take the elevator to the third floor, and when I enter, the newsroom smells like strong coffee and stress over late deadlines.
It’s loud, and my co-workers scurry around the floor with iPads and notebooks in hand.
I usually love this hustle and bustle, but today feels different.
I walk in like everyone knows I now lead a double life.
On the outside, I’m just a journalist, but behind that, I’m in deep with an underground world and slipping out of my current article’s bed.
It’s like they can see the dollar amount owed and the handprints and kisses still on my skin.
Even after being with Nik last night, I'm telling myself it can’t last. I’m preparing for the loss and heartbreak before it happens because, honestly?
It can’t be like this. I don’t want to be the NFL star’s girlfriend.
I don’t want to live looking over my shoulder, and I don’t want to lie about my life either.
But sleeping with Nik isn’t doing anything more to save my life.
So, for now? It’s just sex. It’s stress and bad choices due to the circumstances around me. It won't cloud my judgment on the article, and once it’s over, I’ll move on.
I’m a damn liar.
Because now I’m sitting across from Sherrece in her glass-walled office, trying to lie again. I’m rethinking everything I thought I knew. Nik Papas is a twenty-three-year-old guy who made big choices to save his family. But he didn’t have to continue with the lifestyle, did he?
When I stepped into that lifestyle, by accident, he stepped up and protected me. My morality may not let me write the piece I know is there, and my concern for the real truth and who’s trying to bring Nik down has me wanting to bail on this legacy piece altogether.
“Your latest notes read like a PR brief. I was expecting big things after your trip to Houston,” she says, sharp-eyed and three lattes deep. “Where’s the edge?”
“I’m still building context,” I say, as I sit back in the chair, trying to look relaxed. “I need to establish tone, character—”
“You’re not profiling a damn senator,” she cuts in. “This is the NFL. Nik Papas is flashy, beloved, and too good to be true. He’s hiding something.”
I glance away, too late to pretend I don’t know that already.
Sherrece leans forward, elbows on the desk. “You’ve been shadowing him for three weeks. You’ve got access. You’ve been inside the stadium, for God’s sake. And you’re telling me there’s nothing to work with?”
My silence lasts a second too long, and she catches it instantly. Her voice lowers. “Oh my God. You found something, didn’t you?”
I shake my head. “I’m not ready to—”
She sits up straight, palms flat on her desk. “No. Don’t do that. Don’t sit here and ‘build context’ while some other outlet jumps the line on a scandal you had front-row seats to.” She leans in. “We need this, Noelle. I want this story.”
“It’s not that simple.”
She raises a brow. “If you’re sleeping with him—”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to,” she scoffs.
My stomach sinks as she hits me with a disappointed look, but she doesn’t back off. “Tell me something right now. Is there a story you’re not writing because you’re trying to protect him?”
I want to lie.
But I don’t.
I can’t.
So, I say nothing.
And that silence? That’s her answer.
“I was prepared to offer you the Editor in Chief position. Remember what I discussed with you before you left for Houston? My partners agreed with me.” Sherrece sits back hard in her chair, crossing her arms and glaring, creating a barrier between us.
Outside of this building, we’re friends, but here—especially today—she’s my boss, and by holding this story back, I’m messing with her career.
“I assigned this to you because you’re the one who can sort through the bullshit.
I didn’t think you’d go soft the second he smiled at you. ”
“It’s not like that.”
“Then tell me what it’s like.”
I take a breath. My voice is quieter when it comes out. “It’s complicated. And messier than what a short headline can read.”
“Messy is what keeps the lights on. And he’s a twenty-three-year-old standout rookie, the likes of which the NFL hasn’t seen in quite some time.
If he’s hiding something, I want it. You’ve got a week.
Give me something real or tell me you’re pulling out.
And if you pull out? Don’t expect to pitch another feature around here for a very long time.
” She turns from me, quickly tapping across her keyboard, dismissing me from the room.
“Oh, and that new position? It won’t be yours. ”
I get up and walk out, not needing to acknowledge her threat, because it’s not a threat. It’s a promise, and now I have to decide how the fuck to navigate this.
My pulse is pounding as I pass back through the bullpen, nodding to the other reporters. I keep my face calm, unreadable. But inside? I’m unraveling.
I’m not stupid, I know how this looks. I compromised myself, both professionally and emotionally.
I could get my sister and move right out of Mistletoe Falls, clear across the country.
Or I could just write the damn story and live in fear the rest of my life.
I could just walk away, find a new job, anything, before football wrecks my family, my credibility, and my heart.
But I already know what I’m going to do.
I don’t think there was ever a choice once I met him.