“And he brought up me specifically.”
“He’d read about thePuck Festincident. Then he asked questions about the community service and the media training. He’s fishing.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing. That you’re on probation and I’m managing your rehabilitation. That’s it.”
“And he bought that?”
“I don’t know. Alex’s good at reading people. He sees things.”
“What things?”
I look at him, and I can’t say it. How can I admit that Alex might see what I’ve been trying so hard to hide? That I feel something for Masterson that goes beyond professional obligation?
“Just...be careful around him. Don’t give him anything he can use.”
“I know how to handle journalists, Noah.”
“Not ones like him. Alex’s different. He’ll act friendly, ask casual questions, and make you think you can trust him. Then he’ll turn everything you said into a story.”
“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
“I am.”
Masterson looks at me for a long moment. “That why you keep everyone at a distance? Because someone you trusted burned you?”
“That’s part of it.”
Masterson narrows his eyes. “What’s the other part?”
I can’t answer that. I can’t tell him that the other part is standing right in front of me. That I’m terrified of letting anyone in because the cost of being wrong is too high.
“I need to get to work,” I say, avoiding the question.
“Right. Work.” Masterson folds his arms over his chest. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re having coffee with your ex to rekindle anything. I think you’re terrified he’s going to find out something you don’t want him to know.”
He stalks away before I can respond.
I stand there on the street, watching him disappear around the corner.
He’s right. I am terrified.
Terrified that Alex will dig deep enough to find what I’ve been hiding. Terrified that everything I’ve worked for will blow up because I can’t control how I feel about Danny Masterson.
Terrified that the walls I’ve built aren’t high enough to keep the truth from getting out.
CHAPTER 13
DANNY
Jealousy tastes like shit,and I’ve been choking on it for two days since seeing him with his ex.
Which is fucking stupid because Noah and I aren’t together. We’re not anything. He’s made that clear a hundred different ways over the past month.
But watching him sit across from some guy in an expensive suit, having coffee like they’re old friends, makes me want to punch something.
I leave the coffee shop, get in my truck, and sit there gripping the steering wheel.
