Page 93 of Where the Blacktop Ends

After a weekend spent inside Georgia, knowing Max is back in North Carolina with the rest of my family and Liam is away at Eleanor’s, nothing could dampen my morning mood except for whatever is behind the look that she’s giving me right now.

“Is it a good morning, Diane?” I ask.

She taps her hand on top of a piece of paper that’s upside down on her desk, then slides it my way cautiously. I flip it over to find her neat handwriting and a warning scrawled on it.

“There’s a reporter waiting outside of your office. Total jackass. I tried getting rid of him, but he claims to have something you’re going to want to see and insisted on speaking with you personally.”

“Do we know who he’s with?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

I assume this guy wants a statement on something ridiculous, maybe one of my New York clients and some trouble they’ve gotten into recently and he’s threatening us with a story. Or,worse, another comment on my nonexistent relationship with Minnie Meadows, the mayor’s daughter who I’ve set boundaries with and am considering taking a restraining order out against. But nothing prepares me for what Diane says next.

She slides another piece of paper across the desk, not bothering to make eye contact with me or the man standing outside my office doorway.

He’s got information on Georgia.

Bad info.

And just like that, my Monday takes a sharp nosedive.

I crumple the paper without looking at it and toss it into the wastebasket. My jaw tightens as I give Diane a curt nod, signaling that I’m ready to face this snake in the grass.

I turn the corner to my office, and there he is. Younger than I expected, which makes me even more disgusted. Bright blonde hair, a cheap brown suit that doesn’t fit right, and a casual arrogance as he scrolls social media videos of women half naked dancing like he’s not here to ruin my futurewife’slife.

When he notices me standing in front of him, he jumps up and extends a hand.

“Heath Clever.”

“I don’t give a fuck what your name is.” Normally, I wouldn’t be this blunt or unprofessional, especially considering everything I have on the line, but today? I need to cut through the shit and get to the punchline.

His smile flickers with surprise before it shifts into a cocky smirk that makes me want to break his big nose.

“You might think I’m just some young, unexperienced reporter, but I assure you, I’m invested in this story. I’d love to see youlose the race in North Carolina. Your platform is antiquated, and your confidence is shrouded in arrogance.”

“You think you’re the only one who wants to see me lose?” I snap, crossing my arms.

He sneers, spreading his arms wide. “Shall we talk in your office?”

I want to throw him out on his ass, but I know I can’t. Not yet. So, I lead the way, my patience wearing thin. As soon as he settles into the chair, he pauses, his eyes gleaming.

“Your nanny’s cute.” He reaches for a mint from the bowl on my desk, and I yank it away before his grubby fingers can touch anything.

“Get to the point. You think you have something on one of my employees. It sounds like it’s my nanny.”My future wife.“What is it?”

He sits back, folding his hands on his stomach. “I trust you do background checks before hiring?”

“Of course.”

He smirks, enjoying this far too much. “Looks like your budding feelings for that nanny clouded your judgment.”

I don’t flinch, but I want to. It’s clear this bastard knows about Georgia and my relationship, and he thinks he’s got the upper hand. I stay stone-faced, refusing to give him the reaction he’s hunting for because I don’t intend having a slimy tabloid break our news.

“Georgia Cameron.” He lays a sheet of paper on my desk, face up, his eyes locked on mine. “At sixteen, she wrote a letter to a Texas state senator, calling him out on his stance regarding a controversial issue tied to agriculture and the state’s crumbling infrastructure. It wasn’t just bold—it wasbrutal.Sharp.Scathing. She tore apart his voting record, dragged his family into it. The senator never responded—probably had some interns toss it in the trash. Most kids would’ve let it go. But not her. Instead, she published that same letter in her high school newspaper, and it spread like wildfire. Social media lit up with it—Myspaceif you can remember that. Though, let’s be real, you might be too old.”

I take a slow breath, ignoring his jab and glance at the paper. It’s just a printout of some article he must’ve dug up online, detailing Georgia’s letter to the senator and the resulting outcome. It continues with a short mention of her being shamed by the politician on live television.

“She was a minor and it was a high school assignment. Why does this matter to me?” I say, folding my arms, keeping my expression neutral.

“Sure, but that’s not even the juicy part.” He leans in, eyes gleaming with something between intrigue and triumph. “The senator caught wind of it. Didn’t just brush it off—hethreatenedher family after holding his little press conference. And her dad and uncle? They’re not just any ranchers; they own two of the wealthiest ranches in Texas. Something went down, lines were crossed, and her dad actually pursued legal action against him. But then? He suddenly dropped the lawsuit. Whatever happened never made it to the public. It was buried. But word around her school—and I’ve got averycredible source who went to school with her—is that the backlash was brutal. Georgia didn’t just get harassed; it pushed her over the edge. She tried to take her own life. Ended up in a psych ward for a while before she was discharged back into her parents’ care.”

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