I laugh. “So, that’s it?”

  “You decide.”

  “Why would I? You already did. Goodbye, Bryce.” I open the door and walk out, slamming it behind me.

  “What the hell is going on, man?” Damon pushes my chest to get me to walk to the locker room instead of the weight room. “Hell, you’re lucky I was walking by and told some people you were arguing about an article she wanted to write about you.”

  I remove my arms from his. “Doesn’t matter. We’re over.”

  “Over?” he asks but opens the door to the locker room and shoves me inside. “That can’t be true.”

  “It is. She doesn’t trust me. Some girl said she slept with me. Took a picture naked on my bed somehow, so she came here to accuse me of cheating on her. Give me a fucking break. She has so many trust issues and I’ve tried, but it’s over now.”

  Damon stares at me with his hands on his hips. “I don’t think you mean that.”

  He clicks on the television—probably because he fears people will hear me without our voices being drowned out.

  “Claims are being made that Chicago Grizzlies players refer to their four-flat on the Northside as The Den. Two of the players who have lived there initiated relationships with Sportsverse reporters in order to get good press. One player involved is a newer member of the team, Miles Cavanaugh, and the reporter? Sportsverse’s newest addition, Bryce Burns. More on that when we return.”

  “Jesus.” Damon turns up the volume, but it goes to commercial.

  We both grab our phones, and there’s a stream of text messages from my friends in San Francisco. I skip over them, going to the internet to see the latest news, including an article written and released today on a famous celebrity gossip blog. The article was written by Shelly Breckles, former Sportsverse Magazine writer.

  I stand to go back and find Bryce, but Ronnie storms in, shoeless. “What the hell just happened?”

  I freeze, and all our attention falls on the television as the story continues after the commercial break.

  “And as if sleeping with Bryce Burns wasn’t enough, Cavanaugh was seeing other women at the same time. Here’s one alleged woman who said Cavanaugh picked her up at a club and brought her home.”

  In the picture, they circle the framed photo from my graduation as proof that it’s my bed. But I don’t have that picture in my bedroom. That picture is the only one of myself in my apartment and it sits on a table by the couch.

  Damon’s jaw is hanging open, staring at the woman sprawled on my bed, although all her private areas are covered in black.

  “That’s her,” he says, pointing at the TV.

  “Who?” I ask.

  “That’s the girl who said her boyfriend hit her. The one I gave five hundred dollars to. How did she get on your bed?”

  I close my eyes. Clearly this is a setup and a damn convincing one. And with her unresolved feelings about her dad, this whole thing fits right into the narrative that likely runs through her brain. I’ve already done so much damage, all the things I said, I can’t take them back now.

  I throw my head in my hands and close my eyes. Today just ended with a big fuck you.

  Chapter 26

  Bryce

  Mr. Osterman calls me into his office, and I already know what’s going to happen, but I’m surprised to see Ronnie Michaels on his couch.

  “Please come in, Bryce.” Mr. Osterman waves me in.

  I shut the door behind me. I’m embarrassed enough to be here, let alone have someone else overhear this conversation.

  “Sit.” He gestures to the couch with Ronnie on it.

  “Mr. Michaels.” I put my hand out to Ronnie and he shakes it.

  Sitting next to Ronnie, I notice he’s slipped off his shoes and has one sock that looks like a pencil and another sock that looks like a piece of paper. He wiggles his toes as though he knows I’m looking.

  Mr. Osterman walks over and sits in the chair closer to Ronnie. Probably so they remain a united front. “I’m glad you were able to come in and talk to us.”

  What choice do I have?

  “Of course.” I cross my ankles and link my hands together on my lap, conveying my best schoolgirl pose.

  “You’ve heard about Shelly going to the gossip magazine and doing an exposé on The Den?”

  “I have.”

  It’s everywhere. All over the news, the internet, and people are believing it, saying Miles Cavanaugh fooled us all as the good guy in the league. It’s disgusting how fast they turned on him.

  “And as to your involvement in it… my first question is whether you entered into a relationship with Miles Cavanaugh since being employed with Sportsverse?”

  After I swallow, I nod. “I did.”

  “And did you feel forced into this relationship?” Ronnie asks. “Did Miles come on to you and did you feel too uncomfortable to say no?”

  My face screws up. “What?”

  Ronnie’s face has no expression.

  “No. Not at all,” I say.

  “When did this relationship start?” Mr. Osterman asks.

  “Um… one night at the hotel…” I’m giving way too many specifics. “A little more than a month ago.”

  “And prior to being employed at Sportsverse, were you in a relationship?”

  “No.” They don’t need to know about two years ago.

  “And did your involvement with one of the Grizzly players change the way you would have written an article for us?” Mr. Osterman crosses his legs. He’s not writing anything down, but I feel as though maybe there’s a tape recorder in the room somewhere. Or maybe I’m just paranoid after Shelly.

  “No. As you’re both aware, Miles is having a great season as safety with the Grizzlies. I understand that I’ve been hard on him before, but this year, he’s given me no reason to write anything but positive things.”

  “Let’s see how he fares now that he’s strong safety. Hopefully he can keep up,” Ronnie says to Mr. Osterman.

  “Excuse me?” My head tilts.

  “He didn’t tell you? Pavin is out for a few weeks, so Cavanaugh’s stepping in as strong safety and we’re putting Tre Brummer on free safety.”

  “But…” They both glare at me, and I shut my mouth. It’s a stupid decision. Taking Miles out of free safety after he’s saved his team so many opposing points is straight-up stupidity. “When did he find out?”

  “Yesterday morning. Right before all this broke.” Ronnie whirls his finger in the air.

  My heart sinks into my stomach. He’d just been given that horrible news, then I came to the stadium and accused him of cheating on me.

  “Bryce, let’s stay on point here. You knew the rules. You’re not to become involved with any of the players on the teams you report on.”

  “And I told you I had a similar rule for my players,” Ronnie adds. “Miles knew that as well.”

  “It’s over. We’re not even together anymore. Penalize me, but not him.” I grab my bag, not wanting to sit here any longer.

  “I’m glad you think that because from today forward, you’re suspended from your reporting duties on the Chicago Grizzlies,” Ronnie says. “Grant Thorn is taking over. Please leave him any of your notes that you feel are valuable.”

  Grant Thorn. Of course that jackass got it.

  “Anything else?” I ask, keeping my chin up and scraping together what little pride I still have left.

  “That’s all,” Ronnie says.

  “I’ll be in touch as far as Sportsverse is concerned. I need to speak with human resources,” Mr. Osterman says, dismissing me and not standing to see me out.

  Ronnie puts out his hand. “I’m sorry, Bryce, I really enjoyed having you report for us. I wish things could’ve worked out, but I’m sure you can see the conflict of interest?”

  I nod, shaking his hand before putting my bag crossways over my shoulders. “Thank you. Good luck with the rest of the season.”

  I walk toward the door, my mind swimming with a million thoughts. Opening the door, I head over to my cubicle and find Grant Thorn already there, opening the drawers of my desk.

  “Excuse me, what are you doing?”

  He backs up and hits the corner of my cubicle with his back. “I thought you were suspended.”

  I step forward and he practically slides out of my way. “Just came to leave my notes here for you. What is your problem?”

  “Nothing,” he says.

  I pull my notes from my bag and toss them on the desk. I have nothing personal here because I rarely worked in the office. When I turn, he’s still there. “I left my notes there. Have at it.”

  I start to leave, but he clears his throat. “Anything about the planetarium in here?”

  I circle back around, and he holds up the papers with a cocky smirk. I stomp over, grab the papers, and rip them in half, then in half again.

  “What are you doing?”

  I toss them in the trash can. “You seem to think you’re the man. Figure it all out for yourself. I assume you’re the one who outed me?”

  He laughs. “You guys were so deer in headlights, it was obvious. Shelly baited you yesterday, and she said you were so pale she thought you’d pass out when she showed you the picture. That confirmed it.”

  My mouth drops open. “You set me up?”

  He shakes his head. “I didn’t do anything. It was Shelly. You just played into her hands. If she came out, then she’s a woman scorned, but having you in a relationship with one of them changed the game.”

  I don’t know what he means by the woman scorned thing, though I intend to find out. But I have more pressing things on my mind at the moment. “So, the girl in Miles’s bed…”

  He laughs. “Don’t ask me, but Shelly’s cutthroat. I’ll tell you that much.”

  I step forward. “Are you sure you’re a reporter?”

  “Why would you ask that?” He seems affronted. Good.

  “Most reporters can keep secrets, and you seem to be telling everyone’s. First Miles and me, and now all of Shelly’s.”

  “I just wanted you to know.” He shrugs. “You came in here thinking you were the best and we should be bowing at your feet. And look what happened. You made a rookie mistake and slept with the subject. I mean, you did pick a good one. Shelly did not, however, which is why she’s so bitter and broken. But I wanted to see your face when I told you how it all came about.”

  I stare long and hard at him. “You’re an asshole.”

  He puts his hand over his heart. “Tell me something I might actually give a shit about.”

  I inhale a deep breath and compose myself before walking away and pressing the elevator button, but then I think about my suspension and how handcuffed I felt here, expected to write what they wanted me to. As the elevator doors open, I turn in the opposite direction and walk down to Mr. Osterman’s office. His secretary yells at me as I barge into his office without knocking.

  They’re still seated where I left them, and they both look at me.

  “Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Osterman, but I quit.” I don’t wait for him to respond, walking right back out the door.

  I take the elevator down to ground level, hop on a train to my apartment, and pack a bag. Before I run to Miles to try to make things right, I need to handle my own shit so I can be ready for our future.

  I order an Uber, and he drives me to the airport. Amazingly, I find a flight leaving in an hour, make it through security, and I’m on the plane before I even have time to think about changing my mind. I land in Idaho and rent a car, then I drive to my mom’s house.

  I have no idea what I’m going to say, but this has been a long time coming. Miles hasn’t tried to call me since our fight yesterday, but he’s probably dealing with a lot of fallout too. I just hope by the time I make peace with this, he’ll have forgiven me and will take me back. My biggest fear is that I’m too late.

  I pull onto the street of the small three-bedroom house I grew up in, situated in the neighborhood that made me who I am. It’s been too long since I’ve come back. After I step out of the car, I pop the trunk, grab my bag, and wheel my suitcase up the driveway to the walkway. The front door opens before I can ring the bell and my mom stands there.

  “Bryce?” She says my name as though I’m a mirage.

  She looks so healthy I beat myself up for not coming sooner. This is the mom I dreamed would return to my life after all her treatments and I’ve been avoiding her.

  “Mom.” Tears stream down my face. I drop my suitcase and walk right into her arms. “I messed up.”

  Chapter 27

  Miles

  I buzz up to Bryce’s apartment, but she doesn’t answer. I refuse to leave all of this like we did. If we break up, we talk it over. We don’t do it in the heat of the moment during an argument when emotions are high.

  But once again, she doesn’t answer, so I grab a coffee from the corner place and sit to people watch. I could call her, but I want to talk face to face. She hasn’t accepted my calls anyway, so my only option is to surprise her at her house.

  Cooper and Ellery say they haven’t really talked to her. Bryce said she needed time, and they know her well enough to give it to her. Ellery pleaded with me to let it go and let her come to me, but I’m not that kind of guy. I want Bryce, and I’m going to fight for her.

  A little girl runs down the street, and her dad chases her, picking her up right before she’s about to collide with a trash can. The mom is behind them, wheeling an empty stroller. They walk into the coffee shop and the little girl inspects the space as though it’s exciting when it’s just a boring old coffee place.

  The dad puts his arm around the mom, and he pulls her closer, kissing her temple. They do this dance of him handing off the daughter to the mom while he pays for their order. The dad gives the little girl a cookie, and the mom shakes her head, but she’s smiling. The girl’s eyes widen into saucers, and she hugs her dad’s leg. The mom says something to the dad and they both laugh.

  Jealousy gnaws at my insides. That’s what I want, and I’ve wanted it for a long time. I want a family, and I’m not going to be ashamed of that. Bryce and I have to be on the same page though, because I’m already way too invested not to have that with her. If she doesn’t have the same desire for a family, for a life together, I need to cut it off because I’ll never be able to keep my dreams of the life I want with her at bay.

  Leaving the coffee shop, still impatient to talk to her, I go back to her apartment. I press the buzzer again and no one answers. As I’m about to press it again, an elderly woman walks out of the door. I want to slide through it, but the woman eyes me. Fuck it.

  I step forward, and she presses her hand on my chest.

  “I’ll use my cane,” she says.

  I look down and sure as shit, her hand is clenched around the handle of a cane. “Sorry, I’m looking for the brunette who lives on the third floor. Bryce?”

  The woman comes all the way out and the door closes behind her. “You’re that player. The football guy.” She rests her cane on the building and puts on her hat, then a scarf and mittens. “When you’re old, you’re always cold.”

  “Yeah, you don’t need to explain yourself,” I say.

  “But I’m assuming you do. I’m her neighbor, and all I’ve heard this morning is her buzzer going off. Did you do something stupid?” She picks up her cane.

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you going to do it again?”

  I shake my head emphatically. “No.”

  “Okay, well, I’m a softie, so you’re in luck. I’m not letting you into that apartment building, but I’ll tell you this—there’s been no movement in her apartment since yesterday.”

  My shoulders slump. She’s not staying with Ellery or Cooper. Damon wouldn’t put her up without telling me. What the hell could she be?

  “Okay, thanks.”

  She pats me on the stomach. “Keep up the good work, and if this works, I’d happily take some tickets as a thank you.”

  I laugh. “If she takes me back, they’re all yours.”

  She smiles and walks down the street but stops when two kids almost run her over. “Who raised you? A stray dog?” she shouts at them.

  I watch her go and look up at the apartment. “Where are you, Bryce?” I mumble to myself.

  I catch the L train back to my place and stop at Peeper’s Alley. It’s a quiet day, no game for the Colts because it’s midweek, so I sit on an empty barstool.

  “Water?” Ruby asks.

  “Whiskey, two shots.”

  She studies me for a moment, then grabs the bottle. All the regulars turn like robots to face me. She puts two shot glasses in front of me and pours the whiskey. I move to pick one up, but she puts her hand over it. For the first time, I notice her age spots.

  “Before you do this. Are you sure you want to?”

  “I just want it to go away.” I sound pathetic even to my own ears.

  She takes the shot out of my hand, then the other one, and dumps them in the sink.

  “What a waste, Rubes!” a man farther down the bar shouts. “I would’ve drank ’em.”

  “You’ve had enough,” she warns with her stern voice and eyes, then turns to me. “Alcohol numbs. It doesn’t take it away.”

  “So if I said I wanted to numb it?”

  “Sorry, no take-backs. If you want it to go away, you have to do something to fix it, not wallow here on a barstool. Action.” She grabs a water out of the cooler, cracks the top, and slides it across the bar to me. “You drink this and think about what action you can take to win her back. The brunette, right? Bryce?”

  “Seriously, how does everyone know? We were so careful.” I let my chin tip down and shake my head.

  She laughs. “It’s all in the eyes. You gave it away, but she did too. I’ve been working a bar for years. You think I can’t see when two people are into each other?”

 

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