Crossing the Line (Hard Driving) (17 page)

Cori pulled into her driveway on Friday afternoon after the five-hour trip back from Charlotte. She’d been in her car practically nonstop for the past two days, and she was exhausted. She slowly dragged her body out of the car and up the front walk, pushing herself into her house by force of sheer will.

She wanted to fall into bed and sleep forever.

After all, she had nowhere to be. No Ty to wake up to.
Why not just sleep?

She’d just switched on the light in the front hall when the phone rang.

Suddenly, she was wide awake, hoping with every fiber of her being that it was Ty. Her hands trembled as she reached for the phone, and when she saw it—
Restricted number
—she could barely breathe for all the hope that was flooding her chest.

Ty. Please let it be Ty.

She swiped the phone and put it to her ear. “H-Hello?” Christ. Her voice was shaky. Weak.

“Miss Bellowes?”

It was a woman’s voice.

Not Ty.

She nearly wept, but she was too dehydrated to even think about tears right now. Just dull, hopeless agony.

“Yes. This is she.”

“Oh, wonderful. Miss Bellowes, this is Rhoda McGhee from Channel 5 news in Charlotte.”

Cori straightened.
Rhoda McGhee?
She knew who that was. She was the anchor for one of the biggest news teams in Charlotte. Cori had seen Rhoda reporting while she’d been taking care of Ty when he was sick.

“Oh! Uh . . . hi.”
God, that was pathetic.
She walked toward the kitchen, hoping that a little movement would help to pull her out of her misery-filled stupor. “What can I do for you, Ms. McGhee?”

The other woman tsked. “It’s Rhoda, please. And I’m calling because we had an interesting conversation with one of the stock car drivers earlier today. Word on the street is that you’ve recently left
Gold Cup Sports
.”

A stock car driver? Had Ty called them?

“I—that is—” she stammered.

But Rhoda kept talking. “The team at Channel 5 has been really impressed by your work, so when Mrs. Colt told us today that you’d left, I immediately called.”

Cori’s heart plummeted. So it had been Kerri, not Ty. Ty had probably shut the door after she’d left this morning and hadn’t thought about her since.

“I wanted to ask you if you might be interested in interviewing for the sports reporter position down here. Mrs. Colt spoke very highly of you,” Rhoda continued.

Crap. Cori hadn’t been listening very closely.
Sports reporter? For Channel 5? In
Charlotte?

In Charlotte. Where Ty lived.

How could she do such a thing to herself? To him?

She didn’t want to.

And yet . . . she was out of a job. And this-this was a huge opportunity. Bigger than writing for a fledgling wire service. It was a
break
.

And hadn’t she been the one to be so critical of Ty just this morning, for being so reluctant to fight for what he wanted? How hypocritical would it be for her to not only have lied to him and betrayed his trust, but then belied her own words?

It would kill her a little every day, to be in the same city as him and not be with him. It would destroy her if she ran into him on the street and he turned away.

But she wasn’t going to let him down, just the same.

She took a deep breath. Closed her eyes. “I would love to interview with you.”

* * *

Two weeks later, Ty was sitting in the dark in his living room when Mom called. She’d been doing that a lot more lately, trying to check in on him. Things were still strained between him and Dad, but they were getting a little better.

The investigation had concluded. Riggs Racing had been cleared and Dad had explained in a public statement what had happened all those years ago. The outpouring of public support had been overwhelming, especially when it was revealed that Gilroy had been paid by Rick Matyzck as a frontman to dredge it all up again. This time, the investigative board had a paper trail of bank statement, e-mails . . . the works. And they’d published it all.

Gilroy was expelled from the racing association.

And now Ty was starting to put this program in place with Mike over at racing headquarters. It helped keep his mood from getting too dark, but it still wasn’t the same as how he’d felt when he’d been with Cori.

He’d been using her PR plan for the program, which didn’t help his getting over her at all. If anything, it made him long to see her again, to be able to hold her and kiss her again, to go back to the hot, heady moment when they’d met across a pressroom.

So much could happen in just a couple of months.

Mom’s voice snapped through the phone. “Turn on Channel 5 right now.”

“I’m busy.”

“Busy being a fool.” Mom sighed. “Turn it on, quick, or you’ll miss it.”

Miss what?
Ty groped for the remote and switched on the TV. A few seconds later, he’d turned it to Channel 5 and was staring, slack-jawed, at the screen.

Cori.

Looking fresh and beautiful, her hair down and shining . . .

“And that’s today’s
Sports Wrap
. I’m Cori Bellowes, reporting from the command center at Channel 5. Back to you, Rhoda.”

How—?

Mom could apparently read his thoughts, because she spoke in his ear. “Your friend Kerri hooked her up with the job after she quit
Gold Cup
. There was a big showdown over there after Cori left. Based on the stuff that came out about Gilroy being in Matyzck’s pocket and all the lies in that story her old boss wrote, he got fired and blacklisted from every media outlet for sloppy reporting.
Gold Cup
is shutting down.”

Well.
He supposed that was good.

But all he could do was stare at the television screen, even though Cori wasn’t on anymore. He was still trying to process everything.

“Why did she have to come
here
?”

That was all he could think of to ask. But what he meant was,
Why will I have to see her face everywhere I go? In the town where I live?

“Because Kerri knew people here, that’s why. And maybe your friends are trying to look out for you. If they see what I saw, then maybe they have the right idea.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, baby.” Mom sighed. “Cori was
good
for you. I know you didn’t see it yourself, but you’d been pulling into yourself more and more ever since your father got the cancer diagnosis. I’ve never seen you give in like that, the way you did more and more over the past year. But with her, you started speaking up again. You started coming back to life and coming into your own again, and as much as I love your father, I was so happy to see you standing up to him again.”

What?
All this time, he’d been trying to hold himself back, to keep from upsetting Dad, and Mom had been rooting for him to be more argumentative?

He supposed she had a point, though. He had been angry because he felt he’d lost his say in his own life, and he hadn’t bothered to even try getting it back.

Until Cori came into his life.

Mom went on. “When you were with her, you were really happy, Ty. Not just putting a good face on things and
pretending
to be happy. This program you’re starting up is amazing. Already people are talking about it, calling it inspired. And I know you wouldn’t have that now if you hadn’t worked hard and
fought
for it.”

Ty snorted.

“But your work isn’t done yet. You still have one more thing to fight for,” Vonda finished.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “I told her I didn’t want her. I told her not to call me again.”
Damn it. Had he really done that? How could he have treated her that way?

“So go find her and tell her you were wrong.”

“I can’t. I—”

“Enough, Ty. Enough with being afraid.”

Too much of a coward . . .

That’s what Cori had said, and she was right.

But he was done with that.

“You’re right,” he said, opening his eyes again and staring at the TV as though he could will Cori to come back on. “I need to fight for her.”

“That’s my boy.”

He smiled. “Hey. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too. Now get off the couch and shower so you don’t look like hell when you see her.”

“How did you know—”

But Mom had already hung up. And Ty didn’t hesitate.

He had a woman to fight for.

Cori sat at her makeshift dining table opening the bag of food that had just been delivered. She’d ordered in for the fifth day in a row, since between moving and having just wrapped up her third day at her new job, she’d simply been too exhausted to cook.

But she wasn’t really hungry, either.

These days, she was simply trying to survive.

Everything had happened so fast. She’d quit
Gold Cup
, Rhoda had called the next day, she’d interviewed the following week, and two weeks after that horrible day when she’d stood on Ty’s doorstep and lost the fight of her life, she had walked into the Channel 5 studio to start her new job.

It had been a whirlwind of change. It was a lot of new skills to learn and responsibilities to tackle. It should have been enough to keep her mind off of Ty.

But it wasn’t.

She’d talked to her mother about it. Mom was healing quickly with no complications, and she was well enough now that she was bored during the day. As a result, she and Cori had been talking a lot on the phone about how sorry Mom was for putting too much pressure on Cori, and how she just wanted her to be happy.

Mom had said that Cori’s heart would heal with time, but right now it felt just as open and raw and bleeding as it had the moment she’d seen Ty’s eyes harden when he looked at her.

She sighed. Maybe delivery had been a bad idea. Maybe she just needed to go to bed.

She started to repack the food to put it into her fridge for the next day.

Her doorbell rang.

Her hand hovered over the bag for a moment, mind whirling. Maybe it was the delivery guy. He could have forgotten something. Or probably Kerri. She’d said she would drop by once Cori had a little time to settle in.

She would not allow herself to hope anymore.

She walked to the door. Opened it . . . and gasped.

“
Ty
.”

He was standing at her door, hands in his pockets, looking incredible. Like a dream come true. Her body, all of her senses, came alive, and it took all of her self-control not to fling herself at him. For all she knew, he was here to berate her some more.

She would take it, too. She would always take anything he wanted to give her. But the truth, she knew in her heart of hearts, was that he would never actually hurt her like that.

“Cori.”

She nearly cried at the sound of her name from his lips.

“May I come in?” He gave her a wry smile. “Not that I would blame you if you said no, given the way I made you stand on my doorstep last time.” He looked down at his feet. “I’m sorry for doing that to you.”

“I forgive you.” She said it simply, without any strings attached, hoping he would understand that she was resolved to be as honest as she could be with him, forever. No more hiding.

She opened the door wide. “Come in.”

He stepped inside, looking around at the boxes cluttered in the living room. As soon as she shut the door, though, he spun around.

“I’m not just sorry for that,” he blurted. “I’m sorry for not forgiving you sooner. You made a mistake. We all make mistakes. I made plenty, with my dad, with you . . . but I couldn’t see past my own pain to the
truth
. I’m sorry for not
fighting
for you.”

He reached for her, and she didn’t hesitate. She put her hands in his and stepped closer. She felt, rather than heard, him sigh with relief. He looked right at her. “Being with you was incredible. I overreacted because I was being selfish. Because you were right. I should have seen how you fought for me and realized it meant more than a deception that didn’t even matter in the end. You didn’t have to encourage me to argue my case to Belgrave about the program, or listen to my problems with my dad without judging me, or drive all those hours the weekend I was sick—those are the things I should have been thinking of when you told me the truth.”

“Ty, no.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, sinking into him with the relief of weeks of sorrow. “I should never have lied to you. I should have told you even back on Media Day. And I should never have called you a coward. It takes strength not to be selfish. To care for people and not want to hurt them. Especially your parents.”

He looked down at her and smiled. “It sounds like we both have a lot to regret, but why don’t we put the past aside? I’m tired of being afraid, and I don’t want anything to hold me back from loving you. Because, Cori, I do love you.”

“I love you too Ty.”

He grinned and kissed her, and when he pulled away it was only enough to whisper against her lips, “And I won’t give up trying to be worthy of your love and your heart. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from you, it’s that you have to fight for what you want. That’s the legacy I want to leave in your heart.”

Oh.
She nearly cried at the sweetness of it. “You already have, Ty. You already have.”

As with every book I write, I depended heavily on the support of my husband and children to produce
Crossing the Line
. I cannot express how much I appreciate their enduring love and patience while I get lost in writing, and for always being there for me when I’m ready to find my way out again.

I want to extend a special thank-you to Michael Scotto for taking the time to educate me about the ins and outs of wire service reporting and the world of sports journalism.

To the awesome, brilliant New York crew: Julia—who also beta read this book—Mala, Elizabeth, and Tahra, thank you for the conflict resolution, the stories from your own lives, and the laughs over drinks. I am grateful to have y’all in my life.

To Kerri-Leigh and Tahra, your idea has lived on through three books, and it’s sad to see it end. But you continue to inspire me and I am thankful to know such creative, encouraging women.

Jenny, my Wag, my partner in crime, my problem fixer: I don’t love you just because you beta read this book too many times. You are my bosom buddy and bestie and my avocado half, and I hope someday we can retire side by side in mansions by the sea.

Lizzie Poteet, thank you for working so hard to make this book better. It is always a pleasure to work with such a smart, talented editor.

And last but not least, to Courtney Miller-Callihan, my agent, cheerleader, and friend: I am so grateful that we’re on this journey together, and even more so that you let me lean on you when the road gets rough.