Cold as Ice (23 page)

“Why not? Have they met yet?”

“Yes, they have,” she says, pouting for the wrong reasons. She won't see Devin again. He's angry she made his business hers.

“Then it shouldn't be hard to get the story.”

“I can't. I don't want to get involved.”

“You already are.”

“Devin doesn't want to speak with me. I knew about his dad before he did. He won't let me interview him.”

“Did you ask?”

“Russ? I've been trying to interview him for a long time.”

“And you did.”

“Yes, but he doesn't want to talk about his personal life. I have to respect that.”

He clutches his jaw and tilts his head in a jerking motion. “You're passing up an opportunity.”

“For who? This station? Not me. I can't do that. I won't do that.”

“Carla, I thought you had a backbone. You're a reporter. It's what you do.”

“Even if you did air the story, do you think it would draw a big audience?”

“Yes, I do.”

“We're not a celebrity TV channel.” Carla tries to keep her voice steady and relaxed, even though she's angry her boss would suggest such a thing.

“You're right. We're news, and the story, from what I hear, is a news story that deserves an audience.”

Carla controls her breathing to calm her mind. It's the first time in her career when her job doesn't mean anything to her. She doesn't care about an exclusive story or how many people like her. She doesn't even care about people unfollowing her on Twitter. It's just a job. “What do you know about the story?”

He picks up his pen, sits back in his flex chair and rocks himself while tapping the pen on the palm of his hand.

“That Devin's father walked out on him and his mother at a young age and he hasn't seen him since. You can fill me in on the rest.”

“Why is this so important?” she asks without a second thought.

“Because it is to you. Must be a good story.”

“Look, I don't know who told you about Devin, but I think it's ridiculous for us to get involved with a player's life when he's asked us not to.”

“How about from the dad? Did he say he didn't want to talk to us?”

“No.” She has no intention of telling Russ that Keith was the one who'd called her and asked for her help. That would only get him to ask more questions, and who knew what other questions he'd have.

“So, you're not doing it?”

She shakes her head.

“It's your job and you're saying no?”

“That's right. I don't want to put myself in that position.”

“Okay. I'll get Ryan to do the story.”

Carla's stomach sinks. “Ryan?”

“Yes, Ryan. He'll do it. Give him your contact info.”

“I don't have any.”

“Sure you do.”

“Ryan can get his own contacts.” She stands. What's Russ going to do, fire her?

“I want you to,” he says, talking with his hand.

She blows out a breath and walks to the door. “Devin won't talk about it.”

“Ryan can ask him.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “He can, but Devin won't talk.”

“Ryan can try.”

She puts her hand on the door.

“Big mistake,” Russ says.

She knows it is, but what does she have to lose? Her job? Devin was already the bigger loss.

She pivots and looks at Russ. “Is it?”

“You're not doing your job, Carla. I count on you to turn out original stories, but if you can't do it, then I'll have to find someone who will.”

How is she supposed to get Devin to talk?

“I want a story by Friday evening's newscast.”

She sucks in a breath. “That's too soon.” How is she going to get Devin's forgiveness and get him to want to do the interview in three days? Two, if all she has left is Thursday and Friday. Impossible.

Russ isn't backing down. His strained eyes hold her gaze, waiting for her to commit.

Should she at least try for the interview? Or give her notice now? Then what? Where does she go from here? This is her job. The one Timothy helped her get. He put in a good word for her. She'd moved from Kamloops back to Vancouver to take a junior sports reporter job. It was a risk, seeing as she went from working full-time to being a fill-in. It didn't take long before she started working longer hours and moved into a permanent position. She found out later that it was Timothy who'd put in a good word for her. Then, when the sports director position came up, it was Timothy who stood behind her. These jobs are scarce, unless you know someone or you work your butt off to prove yourself. It's not every day a job like this comes around, and now that she has it, moving far away to another station isn't so appealing. Besides, she has no chance with Sports National; not now anyway.

“You can do it, Carla. You need to do it.”

The fire in his eyes tells her that her job is on the line.

D
evin makes a trip to Children's Hospital to see Jason. He turns off his phone when he enters the boy's room, giving Jason his full attention for the next half hour, and plans to visit with other children across the hall afterward.

Devin walks into the room, escorted by a nurse. “How are you, buddy?” Devin's smile disappears when he realizes that Jason is either in pain or has been medicated and so doesn't have the usual reaction. He's slumped against his pillow, staring across the room. Devin takes a step closer and places his hand on the boy's blue blanket.

“Jason?” Devin whispers, trying to determine whether it's a good time to be visiting.

The boy blinks his eyes and turns his head toward his idol.

“Rough day?” Devin asks.

“Jason had treatment today. He's tired,” the nurse says.

“I can come back another time,” Devin says, taking a step back.

“No,” Jason whispers. “Stay.”

“Rest if you're tired,” the nurse says. “I'll be back in twenty minutes to check on you.”

Devin is lost for words. He stands at the foot of the bed. There's nothing to say that will cheer Jason up. What can he offer? He stands for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mind if I sit?” He slides a chair closer to the bed. “This is a comfortable chair,” Devin says, resting his elbows on his thighs and folding his hands together.

“My mom sits there.”

Devin freezes and watches the boy's eyes staring back at him.

Jason gasps. “She sleeps there sometimes.”

“I bet she does,” Devin says, letting his weight sink into the padded seat. If he had children, he'd be sleeping beside them too. “Where are your mom and dad?”

“My mom went to buy a drink.”

“And your dad?”

It takes a couple of seconds for Jason to answer. “He's working.”

Devin rubs his hand behind his neck again. How much longer can he stay?

“Does he work a lot?”

Jason shrugs.

“Does your brother visit you a lot?”

“After school.”

Devin bounces his head. “Do you have big plans for when you're out of here?”

Jason lays motionless.

“Climb a tree? Go swimming?” Devin stares at the boy, looking for a reaction. “Go for ice cream? Play at the beach?”

Jason's lips part, as though he's about to say something.

“If you weren't here, where would you like to be?”

“At school.”

Devin sighs. “School. To see your friends?”

Jason nods.

“I used to like playing baseball. My friends and I would set up a game at recess. I had a friend, Tony Matei; do you know of him?”

Jason's eyes widen. “The baseball player?”

“Yeah.”

“You went to school with him?”

“I did,” Devin says, relaxing into his chair. “He was great at baseball, even as a kid.”

“Wow. Do you still know him?”

Devin nods.

“That's cool.”

“It is,” Devin admits. “What do you like to do after school?”

“Play.”

“Doing what? I'm curious.”

“With Cole. He lives next door.”

“Do you and Cole bug girls?”

“No,” Jason says, his mouth opening enough to show his front teeth.

“Does Cole have a sister?”

“Two.”

“Two sisters?” Devin exclaims. “Double bugging there!”

Jason giggles.

“You have, haven't you?”

Jason giggles more.

“Good to see you smile, Jason.” A woman holding a to-go cup with a tea bag string hanging from it walks to the other side of the bed. She has long brown hair and is wearing jeans and a bright knit top with large gold hoops.

Devin jumps up. “You must be Jason's mom.” He holds out his hand. “Devin Miller.”

“Shanna,” she says, extending her hand over the bed. “Nice to meet you. Jason has told me all about you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Devin asks, putting a hand on his hip.

“He talks highly of you. Thank you for coming to visit. It means a lot to Jason.”

“You have a remarkable son,” Devin says, fishing for words. “He's a fighter.”

“Yes, he is.” She looks at her son and smiles. “The doctor says you might be out of here soon.”

“Can we go to a water park? It will be summer.”

Shanna doesn't let go of her smile. “Yes. And maybe we'll go on a vacation.”

Devin watches the interaction between the two.

“Can we go to Disneyland?” Jason asks, his smile wide.

“We'll see.” She takes a sip of her tea. “Daddy has to see if he can get time off.”

“Aw.”

“Let's find out when you can come home first, okay? Then we'll plan a trip . . . somewhere. It would be nice to go to Tofino. We can body boogie, or whatever they call it, and look for sand dollars.”

Jason pouts. “I guess so.”

The nurse walks into the room with her hands in the front pockets of her scrubs. “How're you doing, Jason? Are you hungry? It's lunchtime.” She takes out a pen and writes something on a clipboard that's by his bed.

Devin stands. “I have to get going. Take it easy, Jason.” He pats the blanket. “I'll see you next week?”

Jason nods.

“Thanks for coming,” Shanna says.

“My pleasure.” Devin says a last good-bye as he leaves the room. He has one more visit across the hall before he leaves.

Devin leaves the hospital and calls his dad. A female voice answers, and automatically he says, “Sorry, I have the wrong number.”

“Is this Devin?”

“Yes.”

“I'm Tracy.”

“Hi. Is my da—dad there?” Devin asks.

“He's resting. He's scheduled to undergo a liver biopsy.”

“Is he okay?”

“I don't know,” she says, her voice trailing. “We'll find out soon.”

“Should I come see him?”

“If you want to. He's doing okay, though.”

Devin thinks about his schedule. “Is it serious?”

“Well, the biopsy will tell us if there's been any liver damage.”

Devin is quiet. If he leaves for Seattle now, he can be back for Friday's game. “Would he mind if I came to see him?” He feels like a kid asking for permission.

“He'd like that.”

He can hear her smile. “Okay. I'm on my way.”

 

It's been two days since Carla spoke to Russ about doing an interview with Devin. What does she do now? Devin hasn't spoken to her, and to call him and ask for an interview seems ridiculous. She can't stop thinking about him, at work, at home, driving to work, driving home. He's on her mind. Yet she can't pick up the phone and call him. Ultimately, he doesn't want to talk to her. The fear of asking for him and hearing his outrage and disappointment in her makes her want to hide from him. That will come first; then, if she asks him about an interview, he'll probably hang up on her.

She puts on a fake smile and goes to work, avoiding Russ's request.

Her cell phone rings as she types a story. Without looking at the call display, she picks up her phone and answers it, typing one more word before saying hello.

“Care Bear!” her mom says.

“Hi, Mom.”

“I have big news.”

Carla takes her eyes away from the computer and concentrates on her phone call. She's in need of a break, having been stuck at her desk since she got to the station, working through lunch and into the late afternoon.

Her mom says, “Guess who's pregnant?”

“Jeez, I don't know. It's not me,” Carla says, trying to make light of it. Even if she was, it wouldn't be the right time for her.

“Mia.”

“What? Mia? Really?” Carla's mouth drops. “Is that why they're getting married?”

“No. They love each other.”

Carla rolls her eyes. “Of course they do.”

“I wanted to tell you before you heard it from Gavin. I didn't know how you'd handle it.”

“I'm fine.”

“I wanted to make sure.”

“I am, Mom. Honest.”

“Okay. Gavin wants to tell you. You didn't hear the news from me.”

“Sure,” Carla says. “How did you think I'd take it?”

“I don't know. I wanted to prepare you.”

“Thanks, Mom, but I'm fine. Babies aren't in my future right now. I need to sort work out, and then relationships. Not that I have one, but still . . .”

“I'm proud of you,” she says, warming Carla's heart. “You've worked so hard to get to where you are. I wish I had done more with my life when I was younger. It takes a lot of guts to prove yourself and excel in a male-dominated job.”

“I didn't think of it as something I shouldn't have. I thought of it as something I
should
have. It's where I belong. This is me. Everything else should follow, right?”

“Yes, and it will. You'll find a man who loves you, and if there's a baby in your future, you'll make a great mom.”

“That's nice, Mom, thank you.”

“There are a lot of children out there who need loving homes. You could be that parent.”

“Yes.”

“If you're not comfortable with babies, there are older children who need homes too.”

“Yes, I know,” she says, putting her lips together. “I don't want to think about that until the time is right. Is Gavin and Mia's wedding being moved up?”

“We're going to talk about it tonight. You should come over. I'm making spaghetti.”

“I'd love to. See you later.” The last time she ate spaghetti at her parents' house was with Devin. She remembers sitting beside him, having him rub his arm against hers and telling stories of the two of them, her giving him a hard time when they first met. The interview. Her stomach tightens. She needs to call him and arrange a time to meet with him. Should she ask him over the phone? What happens if he hangs up? Then what? Does she then tell Ryan to take over and lose the opportunity to speak with Devin one more time? She wants to see him again. The moments they shared were remarkable. No man has held her with such strength and passion as Devin did. Those muscular arms felt good around her and his hard, defined abs . . . she felt like she was playing the harp when she ran her hand over them. Her face heats at the thought.

Was it just a one-night fantasy? But his kiss, the way his lips felt on hers, had been incredible. She can still picture the way he smelled and feel his skin against hers. There was more than an attraction; it was a natural hunger for each other. She wants to see him again so badly, but the fear of him not wanting her hurts. She has to call him for her own good.

Carla picks up the phone and dials his number. She rubs her forehead as she leans into her desk, preparing herself for the power of his voice and to hear him out. With every ring, she rubs her head harder, as though the pressure of talking to him is great. Then Devin's recording comes on the line: “Hey, it's me, leave a message. . . .”

“Hi, Devin!” she says, pulling her hair away from her face. “It's Carla . . . I . . . uh . . . need to speak with you . . . it's important. Please call me back.” She hangs up and runs her fingers through the ends, feeling the silky strands as they pass through her fingers. She has an hour before the evening news. If Devin doesn't call her back, she'll try again before she's on air.

“Who is he?” Timothy asks, breaking Carla's concentration on Devin's miraculous body and what she'd give for him to forgive her and want her in the same way he had in her bedroom.

“Why do you ask?”

“The last time you smiled this much was when you got this job and married me.”

“Very funny.”

“So?”

“So, what? I can be happy.”

“Not like this. Who's the guy?”

Her cheeks warm. “Nobody.” She doesn't have Devin anymore....

“Come on.”

How long can she keep Devin a secret? “No one you know personally.” She waves him off.

“Whoever it is, I'm happy for you.”

“Thank you.” She takes a breath. “I'm happy for you too,” Carla says, looking him in the eye and discovering a sense of peace. What used to be a desire for affection has turned into reconciliation, a letting go of the past and concentrating on what lies ahead.

Timothy's head arches, as though he doesn't know what she's talking about.

“Pamela. You and her . . .”

“How did you know?”

“It's pretty obvious. She flirts with you. Besides, she never used to be in the newsroom, and now I see her in here all the time.” Carla snatches a pen from an old mug on her desk. “Anyway, Pamela told me.”

“We're having a good time together,” he admits, putting one hand into his front pocket.

Carla nods. “That's great. I'm happy for you.” She taps the pen on her desk.

“Thanks.”

There's a pause. Looking at each other now makes her feel so distant. She sees him in a different light. Flashbacks of their marriage and what it was like to be in his arms come and go. She is reminded every time she sees Timothy that now they are better working together as friends than as a couple.

“Do you still want me to take Freddie?”

It takes Timothy a moment to answer. His lips part. “I'm going to keep him.”