He blinks, slow and deliberate. He’s enjoying this. I hate him.
“Oh, you mean where he said you weren’t anything special?”
“No,” I snap. “I don’t care about that. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Do I?” His smirk sharpens.
“You went after his family. His brother.”
Matt smirks, proof he knows exactly what kind of wound he twisted his knife into. “I was doing my job.”
“Your job is journalism, Matt. Not cruelty.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing. “He’s a public figure, Addison. It goes with the territory.”
“God, you’re still doing it,” I say, shaking my head, half in disbelief, half in disgust.
“What?” he asks, as if he’s tired of me.
“Justifying the way you carve people up for sport and call it your job. You didn’t ask a question. You weaponized a trauma. You dug into something deeply personal and made him relive it in front of an audience. You exploited his pain. You’re not a reporter, Matt. You’re a parasite.”
Matt’s eyes narrow. “You know, I’ve always admired your passion, Addison.”
“You don’t get to talk about Oliver. You don’t know him, you don’t know this club, and you sure as hell don’t know me.”I step back, my shoulders squared and my voice clear. “Now get out of my way. I have a meeting to get to.”
I sit across from Alan’s desk, hands folded tightly in my lap, trying not to spiral. We meet just about every morning to go over the agenda and team initiatives, but there’s usually a host of other staff in the meeting, including Matt. But today, it’s just Alan and me. The absence of anyone else makes the room feel smaller.
He called me to his office and said he had something important to discuss, and I immediately began to spiral. Matt must have told him what he saw. It would be a textbook Matt move to report me to my boss for sleeping with one of the players.
Alan slides a cup of tea toward me, and what normally feels like a friendly gesture now feels like a last meal.
He says something about the season drawing to a close. Something about the remarkable journey the team has taken, but I don’t hear it. I nod, but I can’t focus.
I know why I’m here.
I know Matt. I know the look in his eyes when he added everything up at the gala. I know his motives behind his last interview with Oliver. He probably told Alan everything, while conveniently leaving out any details that would paint him in a negative light. I know deep in my soul that he would love nothing more than to burn down the life I’ve been building, but what I don’t understand is why he’s not in the room to watch me burst into flames.
But if I’m going down, it won’t be without a fight.
“I just need to say something,” I blurt, before I can stop myself.
Alan’s brows lift, mildly surprised.
Before he can say anything, I take a deep breath.
“If this is about Matt…”
Alan tilts his head at me. “Matt?”
Shit. Did he really not say anything? It’s too late for me to turn around now.
“I don’t know what he’s told you, but I want you to hear our history from me.” I take a pause, trying to find the right words that will explain the situation without disclosing my arrangement with Oliver. “I know you’re aware I have a history with Matt, but I never explained it. I didn’t want to have to, but now it feels necessary. Matt and I dated for years. We broke up not long before I accepted this position, actually. It wasn’t… it wasn’t good. I was controlled through fear and manipulation. I stayed longer than I should have, and that’s not something I’m proud of, but I am proud of finally walking away.”
Each word scrapes my throat as it leaves my mouth, but I keep going.
“I came here for a fresh start. And then he followed. I’ve done everything in my power to keep it professional. I’ve kept my distance and stayed focused. But I know what he’s capable of, and I know how he spins stories and plants seeds. I’ve swallowed down my feelings for months now, but I can’t let him turn this into a narrative where I’m weak or unstable.”
Alan is quiet for a beat. He doesn’t look away from me.
