Game On(67)

Becca took a deep breath and my throat twisted.

“Is it true?” I asked, afraid of what the answer would be.

Without a word, she leaned down and rolled up her right pant leg to reveal a prosthetic. “He’s telling the truth,” Becca admitted, and my heart dropped. “At least, the version of the truth that Nathan wanted to tell.”

I frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

She sighed, a look of embarrassment and shame coming over her face. “Look, I was young and stupid. And Nathan, well, Nathan is a good guy. He told me I was drinking too much. He told me I shouldn’t be driving. But I did, and we crashed, and when I came to in the hospital, he had told everyone that he had been behind the wheel. And because I thought losing my leg was punishment enough, I let him take the blame. I let him do the community service and bear the brunt of his parents’ disappointment and my parents’ anger and I thought that because no one wanted to talk about it, and that the files were sealed because he was underage, that it wouldn’t matter in a few years. That we could just all forget about it.” She put her head in her hands. “But now I guess it’s time for me to come clean. To own up the mistake I made. Both of them.”

I reached out and took her hand. “I don’t think Nathan would want that. We want to put this story to rest, to leave it between the two of you where it belongs, instead of airing it out in front of the whole world.”

Becca looked at me. “Tell me what I can do.”





Chapter Thirty-One


I left Becca’s house feeling triumphant. We had a letter from her explaining what had really happened and stating that she would sue the Register if they went forward with Rob’s version of the story. We also had a copy of her restraining order that proved that Tim, by bringing Rob to Austin, had violated that same order and put Becca at risk from a potentially dangerous and obsessed stalker. I was eager to get back to the hotel and send my editor a copy of these statements and a copy of the article I had written, to replace what I hoped would be a shelved piece on Nathan Ryder. The rest of the world could write thousands of words on him, but my professional relationship was officially severed.

I couldn’t wait to tell him.

But when I got back to my hotel after Mandy had dropped me off, I found that I didn’t have to wait. He was sitting outside my hotel room. And he looked furious.

“Nathan—” I approached him cautiously, my heart sinking in my chest.

“You went to see Becca?” he demanded, his face stormy. “Don’t deny it, she called me and said a journalist and photographer had been there to see her. When she described you, I realized what an idiot I had been.”

“Nathan, let’s go inside.” I didn’t want to have this conversation in the hallway, but he ignored me, his expression twisted with anger.

“I thought we had gone beyond all that.” His voice began to grow louder. “I thought that I could trust you.”

“You can trust me,” I insisted, pulling at his sleeve. “Just come inside and let me explain.”

He yanked his arm away. “This whole time you’ve been lying to me.”

“No!”

“Last night.” He could barely speak. “Last night meant something to me. Was it just part of the job for you? Get the dirt on Ryder, a bonus if he’ll f*ck you?”

I flinched as if I had been slapped.

“As if you haven’t been doing the same to me,” I snarled at him. “Doing everything in your power to keep me from doing my job.”

“Well, it looks like you’ve done it. Gotten the on-the-record interview you wanted,” he shouted. “So why don’t you take the crap you dug up and go back to Houston where everyone will applaud you for what you’ve done? Maybe they’ll even give you a promotion.”

“Fuck you.” Tears crowded my throat, but I would not let him see me cry.

For a moment his eyes filled with the same tenderness I had seen the night before, when we had been tangled together in bed, his kisses soft and sweet. When things had been perfect.

“Sophie, I—”

But I didn’t wait for the rest of it as I scrambled for my door. I slammed it behind me and waited until I could hear him walk away, counted to ten and then burst into tears.

***

As it turned out, sending the article about the shelter and the information about Tim’s piece wasn’t nearly as satisfying when your heart was totally broken. I managed to dig myself out of my fog long enough to drink a celebratory toast of mini-bar whiskey when I heard that Tim had been fired. And not just for trying to publish an article with no substantiated facts, but also for not caring about them, as he had admitted in his rant towards me, the same one I had recorded and transcribed, both included in my email to Mike.

But the victory felt hollow, especially when tomorrow came. It was finally time to leave Austin and head home. Mandy and Chris both came to give me a send-off. None of us said a word about Nathan, who I hadn’t heard from since our fight in the hall.

“I’ll send you the photos next week,” Mandy told me, giving me a hug. Mike had been thrilled with her initial photographs, but wanted to see the versions with the players before he signed off on the new article. “We’ll miss you,” she whispered.

Chris didn’t say much more, just gave me a hug as well.