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“I'm aware.”
“Every night?” Dani asks.
My head whips toward her.
She gives me an innocent look that fools absolutely no one.
“We're not discussing frequency.”
“So yes,” Finley murmurs.
“Oh my God.”
They're laughing now.
Even Carolina. I wait until it settles.
“My job is to be objective.”
Carolina gives me a look.
“I didn't say emotionless,” I add. “I'm not going to pretend I don't like him because that would be a lie.”
That quiets them.
“And I'm not going to pretend sleeping with Mitchell doesn't complicate things. It does. A lot. But if I discover something that changes the story, I follow it. If I can't substantiate something, I don't print it. If my personal relationship with Mitchell makes it impossible for me to report something fairly, I tell my editor and we deal with it.”
Carolina studies me.
“What if the truth hurts him?”
My stomach tightens.
“Then I make damn sure it's the truth before I publish it. But listen, I don’t want to hurt him. That isn’t my intention.”
No one speaks.
“I don't bury facts because I care about someone,” I continue. “But I also don't manufacture ugliness because it makes a better headline. My job isn't to protect Mitchell. But it isn't to destroy him, either.”
“What is your job?” Annabeth asks.
“To get it right.”
Something changes around the table.
Not dramatically.
Nobody hands me an honorary Rovers jersey.
But shoulders relax. Expressions soften.
The invisible wall between me and them drops a few inches. Carolina reaches for her drink.
“What do you think of Ellie Vance?”
Ah.
There it is.
