Page 76 of Who's Saving You
He sighs and leans forward on the couch. “I don't have any answers to that.”
I shake my head, and he stands from the couch, walking toward me. “How long am I going to have to stay here?” I ask.
His steps falter slightly. “You ready to get away from me already?” He tries to cover it with a laugh, but it feelsdifferent.
“This feels like Stockholm syndrome.”
He scoffs and takes my hand, pulling me close. “Maybe for me… you’re the one who keeps ending up on top.”
I huff a laugh and wrap my arms around him. “How did this happen so quickly?”
“I’m not quite sure,” he whispers back.
We stand together, wrapped in the safety of this place for a moment. Because on the outside? Not so safe. I step back. “Thank you for telling me your truth.”
He looks away from me and doesn't say anything.
“I know it was hard to trust me with it. I want you to know it means a lot to me.” I debate whether to say the next thing, but I do. “Nik, there’s more to this, and I've a feeling it’s going to get worse before it gets better. Will you let me help?”
“I’m supposed to be saving you here. Not the other way around.”
I shake my head. “We’re going to save each other.”
30
Noelle
I told Nik I had to show up at my office. I can only go so many days hiding out or working from home before I'm forced to come into the building for meetings and whatnot. He wasn’t happy but relented as long as I went with Stone. In this small town, it seems extreme to be walking around with a bodyguard, but the one thing I've learned is that nothing is as it seems. So, this small town? It’s not about size; it's about who runs it.
After the three of us went for coffee, and Nik let me run a few more interview questions by him, Stone and I enter the building, and he says he’ll be waiting in the lobby for me. I take the elevator to the third floor, and when I enter, the newsroom smells like strong coffee and stress over late deadlines. It’s loud, and my co-workers scurry around thefloor with iPads and notebooks in hand. I usually love this hustle and bustle, but today feels different. I walk in like everyone knows I now lead a double life. On the outside, I’m just a journalist, but behind that, I’m in deep with an underground world and slipping out of my current article’s bed. It’s like they can see the dollar amount owed and the handprints and kisses still on my skin.
Even after being with Nik last night, I'm telling myself it can’t last. I’m preparing for the loss and heartbreak before it happens because, honestly? It can’t be like this. I don’t want to be the NFL star’s girlfriend. I don’t want to live looking over my shoulder, and I don’t want to lie about my life either. But sleeping with Nik isn’t doing anything more to save my life.
So, for now? It’s just sex. It’s stress and bad choices due to the circumstances around me. It won't cloud my judgment on the article, and once it’s over, I’ll move on.
I’m a damn liar.
Because now I’m sitting across from Sherrece in her glass-walled office, trying to lie again. I’m rethinking everything I thought I knew. Nik Papas is a twenty-three-year-old guy who made big choices to save his family. But he didn’t have to continue with the lifestyle, did he?
When I stepped into that lifestyle, by accident, he stepped up and protected me. My morality may not let me write the piece I know is there, and my concern for the real truth and who’s trying to bring Nik down has me wanting to bail on this legacy piece altogether.
“Your latest notes read like a PR brief. I was expecting big things after your trip to Houston,” she says, sharp-eyed and three lattes deep. “Where’s the edge?”
“I’m still building context,” I say, as I sit back in thechair, trying to look relaxed. “I need to establish tone, character?—”
“You’re not profiling a damn senator,” she cuts in. “This is the NFL. Nik Papas is flashy, beloved, and too good to be true. He’s hiding something.”
I glance away, too late to pretend I don’t know that already.
Sherrece leans forward, elbows on the desk. “You’ve been shadowing him for three weeks. You’ve got access. You’ve been inside the stadium, for God’s sake. And you’re telling me there’snothingto work with?”
My silence lasts a second too long, and she catches it instantly. Her voice lowers. “Oh my God. You found something, didn’t you?”
I shake my head. “I’m not ready to?—”
She sits up straight, palms flat on her desk. “No. Don’t do that. Don’t sit here and ‘build context’ while some other outlet jumps the line on a scandal you had front-row seats to.” She leans in. “We need this, Noelle. I want this story.”
“It’s not that simple.”
