Page 69 of Who's Saving You
“I’m doing my best to give you what you need while you’re here.”
That's a loaded statement if I ever heard one. I take a breath and let it out, trying to calm myself and trying to understand how I got here. The room falls silent, but neither of us moves.
“My first job out of college was for a sleazy online gossip site. My boss was a complete chauvinist and felt that all women were good for lying on our backs. And that’s how he would push us to get the details for stories he wanted to break. The first story I turned in was scratched to pieces and shoved back in my face.”
He stands on the other side of the couch, and I notice his hands clench at his sides, but he doesn’t say anything.
“He told me, ‘When you learn to write an article worthpublishing, come see me.’He grabbed my ass and leered at me, saying he’d teach me how it’s done around here.”
“And you fucking stayed there?”
I shrug. “I was young, needed the paycheck, and told myself it’s just a stepping stone. I lasted another two months before the sexual harassment just about broke me. I walked out and did some freelance writing, accompanied by waitressing in dive bars to make rent.”
His jaw ticks, but he doesn't say a word.
“Then I worked for another well-known paper. I was paired with someone.” I swallow hard. “We worked well together, our investigative approach was similar, and the writing was amazing. But on a major breaking story, he claimed ownership and left me hanging out to dry.”
“He took credit for your work,” he says so bluntly, and it hurts.
I nod. “Yup.”
He studies me. “You were dating?”
How can he see me so clearly?I inhale, closing my eyes before opening them and answering. “We were. Until that article was published, and then he ended up leaving and going to New York City.”
His eyes swarm with darkness, anger lying just below the surface. “Meeting my editor at Falls Press was an amazing turning point in my career. She believed in me and gave me a chance to prove how much I wanted it.”
I’ve been with her for five years now, slowly climbing and learning what it takes to find a good story, then put it into words that make it shine. So, Nik’s story? It’s big, and I feel I owe it to her. And she’s recognizing my work. But honestly, this story feels like it’s been blown to pieces before I can even get to the bottom of it. There are so manylayers andwhat-ifsthat shouldn’t be told untilI can get proven facts.
Also, I can’t write if I’m dead.
“I have a certain way of thinking, and not just professionally, but I use those methods to get me through personally, too. I need to seemynarrative; I can’t have others pull it from me. And that’s what’s been happening. So I fight to keep hold of my own pen, you know?”
He watches me for a moment before asking, “Is that why this sophomore game is so fascinating to you?”
“Yes. I think it’s more than just a lost game, and I think it had a big effect on everyone involved that still carries through to today.”
He huffs and drinks from his water bottle. “I don’t want to talk about that game. It means nothing.”
“It means something if you get upset every time it’s mentioned.”
“It wasn’t my best showing—of course, I’d be upset. We lost a game that would have taken us to the championship. And it was my fault.” Nik turns back into the kitchen, pacing for a moment before leaning against the island, folding his arms across his chest. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Do you believe what Trevor told you?”
Wow. I wasn’t expecting that question at all. I’m not sure how to answer. I stand and walk closer to him, matching his stance as I lean against the island. “I think parts of it are true, and I think he believes his narrative.”
He huffs a laugh. “There are always two sides, Noelle. You know that.”
“There are actually three. Yours, his, and the actual truth.”
“You think I’m lying?”
“I think you both believe your words are true.”
He snaps out, “Then write your damn story and see who bites.”
