She arched a perfectly trim eyebrow at me, pursing her bright-pink lips.
“If you don’t,” I said, never losing her gaze. “I will find a paper who will print the truth.”
Shelby tilted her chin up, surveying me before she finally tsked. “It’s a shame this happened,” she said. “You’re finally sounding like the reporter I always knew you could be.”
“Shame.” My stomach sank, but I’d known coming in here I wouldn’t walk away with my job.
Not with the demands I’d served. I could’ve easily let this lie—Connor had already ended us without hearing the truth—but that wasn’t me. And he deserved to have the truth printed. The reality known that he was a good and incredible man, every bit the Sharks’ power player. And an amazing father to Hannah. Not some junkie pro-athlete looking for his next fix.
“You sure you want to do this?” She asked, giving me the opportunity to save my ass, to put my dream job over Connor’s reputation.
The choice was easy.
Not just because I loved him more than I’d ever loved anyone in my life—despite him crushing my heart—but because it was right.
“Retract it,” I said. “As soon as possible.”
She shook her head. “It’ll be live by five a.m.”
“Thank you.” I reached for her door.
“Harris?” She stopped me one step out of it.
“Yeah?”
“Tell Zach to collect his things, too.”
I smirked. “It’ll be my pleasure.”
A dark chuckle left her lips. “I’m not looking forward to competing with you at another paper.”
I nodded and shut the door behind me. The compliment was a professional courtesy, but I couldn’t think that far ahead. It hadn’t sunk in that this job was no longer mine—the paper of my dreams, gone.
“Pack your shit,” I said to Zach as I emptied my desk.
“I can’t believe you chose him over your fucking career,” he said, throwing things into his black satchel.
“I didn’t choose him,” I said, hefting a small box into my arms. “I chose the truth,” I said, eyeing him. “That’s why I’ll succeed in this business, and why you’ll fail.” I spun on my heels and stepped into the elevator, making sure the doors closed before he could try and ride down with me.
This wasn’t an employee spat that would be easily solved.
He’d betrayed my trust and crossed a severe personal line.
By trying to save our jobs, he’d cost them.
And while it stung to exit the building I’d worked years to earn a spot in, a peace settled over me.
The truth would be live soon enough, and Connor’s career and his adoption process with Hannah should be unmarred.
That was worth more than any dream job ever could be.
“How is she acting?” I asked, my cell phone pressed to my ear.
“Sad,” Faith whispered, the chaotic chatter of the arena rumbling in the background. “You should be here. He hasn’t explained everything to her yet. She’s confused and angry.”
A knife twisted in my chest.
Hannah deserved to know why Faith was the one watching the game with her, and not me. Why Faith had taken up the spot of babysitter when Connor simply couldn’t be there, and not me.
“I can’t risk running into him.”
“That’s weak,” Faith said, and she sounded so much like Eric in that moment I almost laughed.
It had been ten days since the retraction and while I had hoped that would be enough to at least merit a call from Connor, it apparently hadn’t been. And with everything that had happened between us, I wasn’t sure if I could look into his brown eyes without crumbling completely.
“She deserves to at least hear an explanation from you,” Faith said. “We’re here. The game will start in a half hour so your chances of seeing him off the ice are slim.”
Game six and the Sharks were down one. If Boston won tonight, they took the cup.
I sighed. She was right. I couldn’t be another woman who simply exited her life with no explanation. My own fear was hurting her, and that wasn’t acceptable.
“I’ll be there in two minutes,” I said.
“Two minutes? Where are you?”
“The player’s lot,” I said, holding back a dark laugh. I’d driven here a half hour ago, the need to see Hannah overwhelming until my fear had taken hold.
“Good,” Faith said. “Smart woman. Get in here. Where you’re needed.” She hung up, and I pocketed my cell. She was sassier than her brother, which made me love her even more. I knew Hannah was in great hands, but she was right. Hannah needed me.
Whether her Uncle did or not.
Still, it hadn’t stopped me from slipping on the jersey he’d given me as a gift. The first time I’d donned his name and number in a pathetic attempt to prove to him I was worthy...of at least being listened to. Not that I planned on seeing him.
Part of me hoped for it.
Another part of me was terrified of it.
Ten minutes, a key to Pepper’s office, and Faith’s help later, Hannah stepped through the door, the light in her green eyes dulled, angry even.
I’d never seen her so sad or mad, not even when she was left at her Uncle’s with a note and some clothes.
“Hannah,” I said, dropping to my knees before her. “I’m so—”
“You left,” she said, chewing on her lip the way I did when I was holding back words. “You disappeared…and didn’t say anything.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, my heart clogging my throat. I thought it was completely broken after what Connor had said, but that wasn’t true. Hannah held the power to ruin me, and she had every right to do so. “I should’ve come and spoken with you sooner. I didn’t want to leave you,” I said. “I promise. It’s the last thing I wanted.”
“Then why did you?”
I licked my lips, fighting back tears. “Your Uncle Connor and me…” Damn, I should’ve thought out what to say, how to explain. I was failing horribly. “We had a fight. A misunderstanding, really,” I said, trying not to grumble. “And it was my fault. Not his,” I added. “So please don’t be angry with him. It’s his job to protect you.”
“So?” she said, her little brows pinched. “You keep me safe.”
“I know,” I said. “I will always keep you safe. But, for him, the best decision right now is for…space.”
“From me?”
“No!” I reached for her and almost cried in relief when she let me hug her to my chest. “No, Hannah Banana. Not space from you. He needs space from me.”
“Can’t you both just say sorry?” She asked, her voice muffled as
she clung to me.
“I did,” I said. “Sometimes sorry isn’t enough.”
“But you love him.”
“I do.” I nodded. “I always will. Just like I’ll always love you.”
“But you can’t be with me?”
I bit my lip, tears coating my eyes despite my efforts to choke them back. “Not today. Not for a while.”
If ever.
The words I couldn’t say shredded my heart.
I wasn’t sure Connor would ever let me back into her life. Not when I’d come so close to losing her for him.
“But I won’t ever stop trying, okay?” I cupped her little cheeks, swiping her tears away with my thumb.
“Promise?”
“I promise,” I said, putting my hand over my heart. “Until that happens,” I said, clearing my throat and forcing a smile. I pulled out my cell and tilted my head at her. “Mark the moment?”
She nodded, wiping at her nose before tucking against me to look at the screen. “Mark the moment,” she repeated.
Our faces filled the frame, both red eyed and raw noses and broken smiles. But hope shined in her eyes more than mine as I clicked the button.
I hated the crack in my chest that told me that would be the last time I held her close.
“I have to take her to the family section,” Faith said, her hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “But you need to know,” she whispered so Hannah couldn’t hear. “Connor told Coach weeks ago that he loved you. Didn’t want him in the dark if things turned more serious between you two...”
“What? How do you know that?”
“Eric told me.” She pressed her lips together. “Knowing that, maybe you should try to talk to him again.”
I nodded, watching as she led Hannah out of the office, and away from me, each step hurting that much more.
I stood in the hallway debating watching the game, too. But I didn’t want to watch the game. I wanted Connor. I knew I should leave, but I wasn’t capable.
Not after what Faith had told me.