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And so I make a snap decision, praying it’s the right one.
I clear my throat. “Lincoln Nash and I…we have a history.”
“A history,” he repeats.
I nod. “You know the stuff about our dads, but Lincoln and I…we were best friends, too. We did everything together, and friendship became more along the way. And then he ended things with me right after his father took my father out.”
His brows push together. “Definitely related.”
“Never confirmed, but more than likely. My family moved. We lost touch, and now he’s here in my town again. We fought it as long as we could, but…”
“Oh shit,” he mutters, and he closes his eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t tell me.”
“This stays between us.” I’m trying not to beg here.
“Always.”
I sigh. “This thing with my friend—it’s a ruse to throw the shade off what we’re doing.”
“Which is?”
“Hiding as we try to figure it out.”
“Shit, Jolene,” he mutters, and of all the things I was expecting out of him, it wasn’t for him to be mad at me. But I also guess that speaks to how well we’ve been hiding it. For now. “You’re putting your career—your family—at risk, and for what?”
“I don’t know,” I say as I shrug. “But what we have…it’s strong, Marcus. It’s powerful. It’s once in a lifetime.”
“Fuckin’ better be if you’re willing to throw everything on the line.”
“I’m not throwing anything on the line,” I protest.
“His dad is rumored to have purposely hurt your dad. Why do you think he might’ve done that?” he asks.
“It’s the great mystery of my life. It’s so much easier for me to believe he didn’t intend to hurt him, that it was purely an accident.”
“There was no reason for him to pull that move on your father,” he says. “So dig a little deeper, correspondent.”
I shake my head. “What good would it do?”
“For one, it would show your true colors. Are you an unbiased sports reporter? Or are you letting your emotions cloud the stories you need to tell this season because you’re carrying on with the coach?”
His words rile me right up. I stand and place my palms on the table. “I got this job before we knew he’d be the head coach, and I will continue to report the way I always have on this team.”
“And if you run into something that might upset your boyfriend?” he presses, and I know he’s only asking so he can get a rise out of me and see me maintain my cool. It’s a test.
“If it needs to be made public, I assure you, it will be.”
“Right, then. Carry on.”
“One more thing,” I say.
He raises his brows.
“Rivera got pictures of Lincoln and me.”
“Doing what?” he snaps.
“Kissing.” I glance down at the table rather than meeting his judgmental eyes.
