Page 29 of Shatter
He gave me a flat look. “You told me yourself, kid. He asked you to play house with him to make him look good. So we quoted you in the story when we edited the piece. Big deal.”
“Big… It is a big deal.” Tears stung my eyes, and I knew I was losing the fight for composure. Had he been like this from the start? Maybe he had. I’d been so wrapped up in the fantasy of being a sports reporter, of making my dad proud, that I hadn’t paid much attention to the reality of it. Making excuses, allowances for the insulting talk and demeaning antics of my co-workers.
“I quit.”
Mr. Fagan laughed, leaning back in his chair. I let the silence hang as I waited for him to finally take me seriously, to see me for once. His cheap, imitation leather shoes hit the ground one at a time as he stood, coming around the desk to stand a half step closer than was comfortable.
“You’re taking a stand for an idiot athlete who’s going to drop you as soon as you’re no longer useful. You really want to do that?”
What he didn’t understand was this wasn’t about Kane, not really. This was about my integrity as a reporter. Something he had already compromised when he left my name on the byline of a story I didn’t write, and didn’t approve of.
“I’ll see myself to HR. I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t give notice. Thank you for the opportunity you have offered, but I am going to respectfully decline any further association with your newspaper.”
Shoulders squared, I left the Swenton Times office for the last time. I wondered if I should get a lawyer. Coach Turner would encourage Kane to sue for sure, and I didn’t blame him.
What a mess.
While I waited for my Uber, I called Kane’s cell. Maybe I could get ahead of things. I could go to another paper and have them publish a redaction. I could speak to the National team board of directors and make them listen to me. Surely, they would. It was my name on the stupid byline, anyway. The call clicked over to voicemail and I prayed he was swimming and hadn’t seen the headline yet.
That hope died twenty minutes later as I found Kane standing by my apartment door, face completely void of emotion. Moving carefully, I edged down the hall. His eyes followed me as I took keys from my purse with a shaking hand that struggled to fit the metal into the lock so we could talk in the privacy of my apartment. Fear made me consider trying to lock him out. I was small, but quick. Maybe I could keep him at arm’s length until he had time to cool down. Until I’d had time to do some damage control. Geez, he was so still. With a breath for courage, I pushed the door wide and held the way open as he crossed the threshold. His body was rigid. Every muscle standing out in stark relief in the afternoon sun streaming through my window. And I could think of exactly nothing to say.
The silence stretched between us as I felt a bead sweat run down my spine.
What was going on in his head?
When I was ready to break down and apologize, because even though it wasn’t my fault, what else could I do? He spoke.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” Ice was warmer than his voice, and I wondered if words could give you frostbite as every instinct screamed at me to run from this conflict.
“I swear, I’m going to fix this.”
“How exactly do you plan on doing that, Darcy?”
“I don’t know.” I thought of all the plans I had come up with in the car on the way home. “I’ll speak to the board. Tell them the article was misinformed, that a retraction has been submitted and I’m prepared to sign whatever they want. You shouldn’t suffer for someone else’s ambitions.”
“The way you had to suffer, you mean.”
I paused. What did he mean by that?
Kane shoved a hand through his hair, like the weight of it was irritating his head.
“You never told me what happened.”
“I was going to tell you as soon as I saw you. You didn’t answer your cell,” I said, a frown pulling at my brow. This argument was making less sense by the minute.
“I don’t give a fuck about the article right now, Darcy. What. Happened. To. My. Child?!”
My mind stuttered, and I was grateful he had enunciated his words so clearly, or I might have struggled to understand them. As it was, I had no context for what we were fighting over.
“What—?”
“The child. The baby you were pregnant with when you left me five years ago. Don’t look so confused, Darcy, surely you’d remember carrying around another human being in your body.” His voice oozed a level of sarcasm that started to heat my own blood. How dare he? He lost the right to care what happened when he turned his back on me.
“You son of a bitch. You don’t get to walk back into my life and demand answers you weren’t interested in when it mattered. You have no right—”
“I have every right!” he roared. “That was my kid!”
“It was a bunch of cells you left me with, without a word, because I wasn’t useful to you anymore.” My whole body shook and tears seeped from my eyes.
