“It’s okay, Ella,” he said. “This isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known your curiosity would lead to this.”
“I know, but I still feel like it is. I haven’t seen the article yet, but I need to warn you that it’s probably very political.”
He sighed. “Yeah, I figured. I read some of Jane’s articles after you told me what she does. She’s really talented.”
“What do you want me to do?”
He was quiet for a full minute. “What’s her address?”
I stopped dead in my tracks. “You’re not…you’re not going to come over here, are you?”
“I’d like to. I’m sure she could use an anonymous inside source to bolster some of her research.”
“Ben, she’s a journalist. So is Dave. I don’t know what they’d do with the knowledge of you being hermitted up here.”
“You don’t trust them to keep it to themselves?”
“I don’t know. I want to say that I do, but the risk is…”
“The risk is mine to take. What’s her address?”
Holy shit. Okay, this was happening. I gave him the address and then got off the phone.
“What the hell was that about?” Jane asked when I walked back in.
I stared at her, unsure of how to proceed.
“Ella, your face. You’re starting to worry me.”
I took a deep breath. “I know one of the players involved in the lawsuit. He wants to talk to you about your article.”
She nearly dropped her wine. “Are you,” she glanced toward the living room and lowered her voice, “are you fucking kidding me?”
I shook my head.
Realization dawned across her face. “Oh my God. Stan. It’s Stan, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “Stan is really Benjamin Kakoa.”
Eyes wide, she chugged her wine.
“It’s not a shot,” I reminded her.
She set the now empty glass on the counter and raked her hands back through her thick hair. “Who else knows?”
“No one. Well, Jack, but I don’t think he realizes who he is. Ben lives down the hill from him. I met him at Jack’s place just before Christmas, which is why I was talking to Dad and Jacob about CTE. Jane, you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone. Not even the family.” My tone turned brutal, my inner dragon rearing her head. “I swear to God, if you do, I’ll never forgive you.”
She stared back at me, expression grim. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“I mean it, Jane.”
Her expression darkened. “I won’t say anything. I actually have some journalistic integrity, you know.”
She did. Damn my mama bear instincts for making me question my own sister. “You’re right. I know you do. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “What the hell is he even doing up here anyway?”
I hesitated. “It’s not my place to say.”
