“Yes.” She’d never been more nervous in her life, but she wanted this for however long it would last.
“And if when the time comes, we both decide to stick together and make this work, you’ll give that a try, too?” His gaze met hers.
That wouldn’t happen, but she nodded anyway.
“Done. Now, are you going to tell me why your knee is all beat to hell?”
She glanced to her black and blue kneecap where she’d fallen on the gravel. “I had a story idea.”
“Why did your story idea end with you needing bandages?”
She told him. Everything. Simon and the boys. Her research into the Confluence school district. Everything.
“They formed a task force nearly a year ago to deal with the problem, but nothing has come of it. I’m going to do a story on the lack of progress.” The excitement practically bubbled out of her as she rambled.
His lips turned into a solid frown, the kind that she hadn’t seen since the day he left Florida. “You want to tell the story yourself?”
“Well…yeah.” Of course she wanted to take lead on this.
“I’m on board with you taking on some stories. But not with this one. You can’t dothisstory.”
Excuse me?“Why not?”
Mitzy sauntered from the bedroom, tail held high. She glared at Will and hissed.
Yeah, exactly what she’d said.
“You have to be unbiased, and this story is too close for you.” Will put his hand out toward Mitzy. She glowered and marched to the kitchen.
“This story is important to me.” Lucy’s synapses fired frantically. He couldn’t take this away from her. This was the kind of story that won awards. The kind that needed to be told. The kind that could actually make a difference.
He ran a hand over his hair, the lines in his forehead prominent. “You’re already going in ready to show the lack of progress without having conducted any interviews. Journalism ethics, Luce. You can’t go into a story because you want to see a change. You lose all objectivity. Then you compromise credibility—for you and the station.”
So much for keeping their work and personal lives separate. His rejection of her ability felt very personal. Her toes sunk into the carpet as she stood. Mitzy would be better company.
“Luce, look.” He rose and moved so she faced him. “I admire that you want to tell the story, but you can’t do this one. It’s too close. Have Anderson handle it. Make sure the story is told, but make sure it’s done objectively. I know this is hard for you. It’s hard for me, too.”
Her chin high á la Mitzy, she said, “You’re wrong, Will. I can be objective.”
“Then do it with a story that you’re not so wrapped up in.”
Absolutely not.
This was her story and she could tell it best. No way was Will or Anderson or anyone taking it away.
Chapter Twenty-One
“See you tomorrow,” Reuben said to Lucy as they exited the elevator to the lobby.
She tossed him a grin. “Bright and early.”
Her research into the Confluence bullying story had netted her a load of information. She had no doubt once the specifics came out, the school district would have to make changes. She’d been careful to ask questions that didn’t lead her interviews. Still, the response was the same—nothing was being done even though the problem was well known.
Will hadn’t brought reporting up again, and she never mentioned anything more to him about her research. She also hadn’t reassigned the story. Not when it was her story to tell.
A twinge of guilt pricked at her conscience. Antacids were her new best friend these past few days. Once the story aired, Will would see she’d done a good job.
She stopped short as a petite Italian woman walked purposefully toward her. Right. Will’s stepmother. Lucy’s nerves strung tighter. In no universe was this good.
