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“That doesn’t mean you—”

“It means you don’t get it!”

I knew what she was trying to do, but we were already beyond that point. She didn’t get to backtrack now. She’d just have to stand there and take what was coming her way.

The silence that fell between us had barbed edges that pricked the air. Yeah, I thought so. She had such a big mouth, and she was so quick to judge, but she didn’t understand that we were people too, and we had our own lives and problems.

Dakota rolled her notebook in her hands. “I understand enough to know that this isn’t clean.”

I shook my head and stepped back. “You understand enough to chase a story.”

“That’s my job!”

“Exactly!”

She looked at me as if I wasn’t making any sense, but at that point I didn’t care. She didn’t need to know why I did what I did. All she needed to do was stay out of my way.

“And what’s yours?” she asked, sounding calmer now.

“To make something of this opportunity.”

“At any cost?”

My expression hardened. “At the cost I choose.”

She let out a slow breath, and something shifted behind her eyes. I couldn’t really decipher it, but I had learned that nothing about Dakota Hayes was ever as innocent as it seemed.

“Do you really think this is your choice?”

I didn’t answer. We both knew what the truth was, but Dakota also understood why I had such a hard time accepting what she had to say.

Her voice softened slightly, but the edge didn’t disappear. “If I find real proof that he’s manipulating things or that he’s helping you in ways that break the rules, I won’t be able to ignore it. I’ll have to report it.”

My jaw tightened as the words settled between us. They were heavy and final. A warning I didn’t want.

My gaze went cold as I said, “Stay the fuck out of my life.”

Dakota didn’t move or look away, and for a second it felt like I would need to say something else or that something might shift, but it didn’t. So I stepped forward, opened the door, and held it there to make my intention crystal clear. She looked at me for just a moment before nodding slightly and walking out. The door slammed shut behind her, but the silence that followed felt even worse than the fight.

15

Dakota

I stopped pretending this was just another assignment somewhere around the third practice session I sat through. And I did it all without writing a single word. My notebook was still open and my pen still moved, but what I wrote had shifted completely.

It wasn’t about plays or formations or scores anymore. It had nothing to do with who ran what route or how many yards Trace had picked up on a given drive. Those notes sat half-finished on the page, but I had ditched them in favor of names, patterns, and times.

Frank Delaney was at the practice yet again, and at the gym session he watched from the sidelines. And then there was the post-practice private conversation I couldn’t get any intel on. That was the one I had underlined twice.

I shut my notebook with a paper-thin crack. This wasn’t fluff anymore. It wasn’t even a human-interest angle I could spin into something soft and forgettable. It had real meat to it, and the deeper I went, the more it pulled me in. Frank didn’t just show up. He lingered. He positioned himself just close enough to be involved and just far enough to avoid the attention of those who weren’t really paying attention, but I was.

I watched him during drills with his folded arms and pitch-perfect neutral expression that must’ve been practiced a million and one times. And I watched him after all was said and done, when the players filtered off the field and he chose who to speak to and who to ignore. It was never just a random act with him.

“Do you need something?”

I blinked in confusion as I tried to identify the voice that had dragged me back to the present. Malik slowed beside me, and he still had a towel slung over his shoulder. He gave me the warmest smile I had ever gotten from a football player and rested his arms on the railing in front of me.

“I’m good,” I said, trying to understand the sudden friendliness.