Page 10 of Catching Her Heart
The warmth of his fingers intertwined with mine sends that familiar flutter through my chest. But underneath it, there's something else. A small voice in the back of my mind noting that this is exactly the kind of insider information Tim has been pushing me for.
I push the thought away. Ted is sharing this with me because he trusts me, because he's excited and wants to celebrate with someone who cares about him. Not because I'm a reporter.
"I'm so proud of you," I say, squeezing his hand. "You deserve this opportunity."
We talk for another hour about his career goals, his hopes for the rest of the season. When Ted walks me to my car, he kisses me softly under the streetlight, and I try to memorize the moment—the way his hands cup my face, the pressure of his lips, the way he makes me feel like I'm the only person in the world.
"Same time tomorrow?" he asks against my forehead.
"Wouldn't miss it."
I'm still smiling when I get home, right up until my phone rings.
"Blackwood." Tim's voice is sharp. "I need that story first thing tomorrow. The trade deadline is heating up, and we need to be ahead of the curve."
"Tim, it's almost midnight?—"
"I don't care what time it is. You're dating the team's catcher. You must know something about potential moves. Johnson's contract is up for renewal—any rumors about what the team's planning?"
My blood runs cold. How does he know about Ted? And Johnson... the player Ted just told me about.
"I don't mix my personal life with my professional obligations," I say carefully.
"That's noble, Blackwood, but this is the real world. You have access other reporters would kill for. If you can't deliver stories that matter, why are you even here?"
The question hits me like a slap. It's the same doubt I've been carrying since Chicago, the fear that I'm not good enough, not cut out for this career I've dreamed of since college.
"I'll have something for you in the morning," I say.
"It better be good. Simmons's been asking around about player movements. If he scoops us that’s not gonna be good."
The threat hangs in the air after Tim hangs up. I sit in my dark apartment, staring at my phone, Ted's words echoing in my mind:Johnson's getting traded tomorrow.
It would be so easy. One quick call to Tim. An exclusive story that would cement my position here, prove I can deliver the kind of insider access he wants.
But it would be the ultimate betrayal of Ted's trust.
I don't sleep much that night. By morning, I've convinced myself that I'll find another angle, another story that will satisfy Tim without betraying Ted. But when I walk into the newsroom, Tim corners me immediately.
"Where's my story, Blackwood?"
"I'm still working on it. I have a lead on the pitching rotation changes that might?—"
"Pitching rotations? Simmons already filed that story an hour ago." Tim's eyes narrow. "You're holding out on me. You know something about the Johnson situation, don't you?"
"Tim, I can't?—"
"Can't what? Do your job? Because that's what this is, Blackwood. Your job. And if you can't handle it..."
My phone rings, cutting him off. It's an unknown number, but I answer it anyway, desperate for the interruption.
"Ms. Blackwood? This is David Miller from the Chicago Reporter. Your name came up for a position we have open for a senior journalist. Senior on the sports desk.”
I step away from Tim, my heart pounding. Chicago. A senior position. Everything I've been working toward.
"I’m very interested," I hear myself saying. "When can we talk further?"
"Soon. By Friday would be ideal. We're looking for someone who can deliver exclusive content, someone with real connections."
