My roommates left early the next day, so I had the apartment to myself for the morning before I headed over to the hospital. When the buzzer sounded, I was so surprised I almost ignored it, expecting a neighbor who'd locked themselves out. "Hello?"

"It's me."

Abraham's voice was curt and unexpected. "Oh. Okay. Hi." I buzzed him in. When I opened the door, he swept past me and into the living room. I followed, confused. "Are you okay? You were discharged? Why did you come here-why didn't you call me?"

He slapped the papers down on the table. "This is bad."

I winced. "Ah."

His brows had drawn together and his expression had darkened into a heavy storm. "You told me it was factual."

"It is."

"Fact is that this happens in every goddamn team in the League-"

Outrage at Gregory Philip surged all over again, and made my voice hoarse. "They're using unsafe equipment! You can't want to protect them."

"They're my team."

"These are your lives."

"And what about your life?"

"What?" I stared at him, utterly confused. "What are you talking about?"

He waved an arm explosively. "I'm talking about this article. Damn it, Tamar! What are you trying to do?"

"Um, expose shady dealings? Why are you so mad? You knew what I was writing about."

"I didn't realize how far you were taking it."

I wasn't aware I was taking it anywhere unexpected. Loft and the Leopards were conspiring to keep Loft's bad ratings out of the public eye in order to keep their deal for the athletics facility from falling through; seemed like the expected thing was to expose that. "So what?"

"So!" He raked his hand through his hair. "So I finally found you, and now you're trying to throw it all away!"

It was my turn to utterly still with incomprehensibility. "What?"

"Don't you get it? This will piss off everyone."

"It'll blow over."

"I don't think you get it, Tamar. What the repercussions of publishing this will be."

I studied him. "Well, hopefully it will be the athletic facility deal falling through."

"And for you? You'll have both the Leopards and Loft pissed at you. Do you know what that means? They'll revoke your press privileges and they'll slap a heavy fine on anyone who's caught talking to anyone from Today News." His eyes were steady. "I've seen it before."

I dropped onto the sofa. "You're kidding. It's just one story."

He stepped up before me. "One story that said two multimillion-dollar industries are cutting underhand deals and ignoring people's health."

"Which is true."

"Yes. But they don't want that highlighted."

I stared at him. "So what is boils down to-it boils down to not that the NFL and Loft won't be allowed to speak with Today Media, but that you won't be allowed to speak with me. You won't be allowed to be seen with me. We're-we'll be in a public feud."

He crouched down before me and took my hands in his. "But not a private one."

I let my head fall forward. "Then what am I supposed to do?"

He stared up at me. I tried to read the brown-black of his eyes, but he finally shut them.

I felt sick. He was going to tell me to scrap the story. I couldn't scrap it, but how could I run it when it would ruin us? How could I run it when it meant we had to break up?

How could I not run it?

He stood, and I stood too, clinging to his hands. If he told me not to run it, what then? I had to. How could I be with him if he told me to bury this?

But I couldn't be with him if I didn't bury this.

So this was checkmate.

He dragged his eyes open. "You run the story. You have to."

I let out a deep rush of air and my shoulders relaxed. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. "I know."

He curved one hand around my cheek and tilted my head up. "I'm not letting go of you," he said fiercely. "We're going to figure this out."

I tried to smile. "Are we?"

He groaned, and then his hands pulled me against him and his lips were on mine. Anxiety and fear weighed on us, but I pushed that aside and threw myself into the kiss. Heat ran threw me, a blazing wave of heightened emotion, all combined into a fireball I barely understood.

I drove my hands through his hair, wanting to keep him as close to me as possible, wanting to keep him from ever leaving, wanting nothing to be between us, no space or problems or articles on entire organizations. And if we were close enough physically, maybe I could forget the rest.

His hands trailed down my back, and then came up to frame my face. "I will never give you up."

I wanted to believe those words so badly. I wanted to believe that we were strong enough to take on the antipathy of Loft Athletics and Today Media and the National Football League.

We would never give each other up. But that didn't necessarily mean that we would get to keep each other, either.

Chapter Twenty-Three.

Tanya called me into the office almost as soon as I got in. I'd barely had time to pour my coffee and flip open my computer before a chat box popped on the bottom of my screen. Come talk to me when you have a minute.

Tension shivered through my body. Sure, be right there.

I hopped up and curved down the aisle toward Tanya's office. "Hi Tanya."

She looked up from a paper crumpled in her hands, her face white as a sheet. "What is this?"

I didn't need to see the words to know she held my article, and I stepped back warily. "It's the article you asked me to write."

"You say that sixty percent of the Leopards wear Loft Athletics helmets."

"That's right."

"And that Loft makes sure the most promising college football players get Loft helmets in school, and then they usually stick with them."

"Also correct."

"And that the Leopards management is smothering reports of how ineffective the helmets are because they don't want Loft's sponsorship for their new training facility to fold."

I shrugged. "That's what the doctor I spoke to said. My sources near the team say it's common knowledge." I shook my head, suddenly exhausted. I'd written in a haze of exhaustion, anger and caffeine: a surefire way to obtain writer's amnesia. "I don't know if it was the right thing to focus on."

She shook her head, but it seemed to me to be in admiration rather than negation. "It's good."

Warmth filled me, even though I hardly remembered half my words. Yet the glow was tempered by the way Tanya pursed her lips. "If it's good, why are you frowning?"

"Are you aware of the kind of attention this article's going to get you?"

"Me?" Mostly I'd thought about how it could improve things for Abe and all the other guys, but I wasn't a total idiot. "Well, I'm sure some people will be pissed."

She lifted her brows. "And those 'some people' are the Leopards and Loft Athletics."

I licked my lips a little nervously. "Yes. I suppose they are."

She smoothed her hand over the desktop. "I want you to be aware that while this piece could make your career, it could also break you."

I got it. Publishing an article shaming team owners would make me persona non grata to them. "You wanted us to do real news."

"I guess I'm saying that I don't feel entirely right, making you the sacrificial lamb."

"It's my story."

"I assigned it to you."

"Tanya." I spread my hands. "It's the truth. It's what's happening. Don't you think people deserve to know that?"

"I do." She swiveled back and forth in her chair. "I want to include it in the print issue."

I blinked. "But that's gone to copy."

"I know. But not to print." She ticked off the instructions on her hand. "We'll publish it online this afternoon, and then we'll get it in the magazine. Because this is almost certainly going to be one of the top stories this quarter."

I had to fumble behind me for the chair, and slowly lower myself into it. "It's...an angry piece." I swallowed, second thoughts forming slowly, and going to Today Media's CEO. "What about Stuart Kinglsey?"

She smiled tightly. "You just leave Stuart to me."

That afternoon, she called an impromptu meeting. The rest of the team slowly congregated, clutching their second cups of coffee and exchanging wary glances at Tanya's unusually forceful tone. Mduduzi winced in empathy and Jin came to my side in a silent show of support.

Tanya leaned against the wall and smiled like a madman. "As some of you may know, Tamar's been working on a story about the Leopards and Loft Athletics-mainly that the Leopards are burying Loft's negative ratings in order to make sure Loft's sponsorship of the new training facility goes through. We're breaking the story, people, so get excited."

It took another hour to get everything ready-the accompanying photos, the copyediting, the formatting-but soon enough we were all gathered around Wyatt's computer, getting ready to send it into the world. Tanya nodded briskly. "Let's go, then."

"We're sure?" Mduduzi glanced at me. "Last chance for us to back out."

It warmed me that he said "us" instead of "you." I smiled grimly at him. "It's the truth."

And Wyatt hit publish.

Shit hit the fan immediately.

We huddled around Tanya's widescreen computer, a window open showing the article page and another tracking mentions on Twitter.

Which blew up in seconds.

Our tweet to the link got re-tweeted over a hundred times in less than a minute. Then the other news sources started chiming in-CNN, Gawker, the AP, SI, Reuters-Sports Today Claims Leopards Deal with Loft Is Unethical. And: Helmetgate?

The NFL was deadly silent.

Eight minutes after we hit publish, Today Media's CEO Stuart Kingsley stormed into the office, closely followed by the editor-in-chief of the normal news blog and the vice president of PR. Tanya stepped out of her office to meet them as they marched through the near empty newsroom, and we poured out behind her, a show of force that struck me as not unlike a rebel army.

The editor came within spitting distance of Tanya and pointed a stubby finger at her. "The fuck is this? I told you we didn't want to rile Loft. And the Leopards? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"It's called news," Tanya said steadily. "Have you forgotten that's what we report on?"

"Fuck that, Tanya." For a man who made his living through words, he didn't use a particularly large vocabulary. "Have you forgotten that Loft's ads are what keeps your precious magazine afloat?" His angry, mottled gaze swept all of us. "Which one of you wrote this?"

I could feel the tension of the room, thick as the summer fog, but no one looked my way. No one spoke.

I stepped up. "I did."

The guys groaned softly behind me.

Stuart Kingsley's displeasure narrowed in on me. "And who the fuck are you?"