M y coffee table was littered with newspapers, gossip rags, anything and everything that had a few lines about Whitley. I'd skimmed so many of them my eyes were about ready to cross, and I could quote the details by heart .

What I couldn't do was find one single article that had Michelle's name on it – her byline .

Most of the information stemmed from a female reporter with the Associated Press, but tracking her down had proved near impossible and in the ninety seconds I'd managed to pin her down on the phone, all I'd gotten out of her were the words, "I don't reveal my sources ."

Apparently, nobody revealed their sources .

But one thing was clear. There wasn't a single article that had Michelle's name in it – or on it .

Wouldn't she want to have her name on it? In it? Hell, if she was the one behind it, wouldn't she want the name exposure or whatever in the hell they called it ?

She sure as hell hadn't had issues putting her name on every other article she'd written .

Of course, none of those had anything to do with exposing people. More than a few were about women's rights and equality in the work place .

The more of her stuff I read, and the harder I looked to find a connection between her and the mess surrounding Whitley, the worse I felt .

What if I'd been wrong ?

What if I'd gone after her like that and she'd been innocent ?

Jake, I don't know what ...

I blocked the memory of her wavering voice from my mind, just as much from a need to focus and get through the last stack of her articles as much as to keep from having to deal with the guilt that was slowly building inside me, day by day .

Hour by hour .

I'd talked to Whitley twice .

She was fine .

She actually sounded...confident and happy. Like she'd needed this .

No, she didn't know anything more about what was going on, but she didn't need to. She was glad it had happened. I wished I could have been glad, wished I could have known this was how she'd react, because then I could have reacted differently myself .

Brooding, I got up from the couch and made my way into the kitchen to make some coffee. It was days like this when I wished I would have taken up drinking. But the taste of alcohol left a bad taste – and memories of my mother – thick in my mind, and nobody wanted that when they were trying to kick back and relax .

Not that I wanted to kick back and relax .

I wanted to talk to Michelle .

I wanted to see her .

I wanted to touch her, hold her ...

The memory of the tears in her eyes was living with me, like a weight settled square in my chest, and every time I closed my eyes, I saw those damn tear tracks .

What had I done ?

What if I'd been wrong ?

* * *

I t was a thought that nagged me, burning inside my skull like a hot coal .

If I'd fucked up, then what ?

I couldn't think of a single time I'd ever felt anything remotely like what I'd felt with Michelle. Everything with her felt real , even when I knew it couldn't be. She'd been looking like she had a sexual...something. Awakening, freedom .

Most likely, I hadn't done jack shit that any guy who knew about pleasing a woman couldn't do. She'd just needed somebody who...cared .

Cared .

Fuck.

That was the entire problem .

I cared .

About her .

And how in the hell was that supposed to work considering...I cut the thought off, as I'd been doing for the past few weeks, but this time, instead of shoving it all to the back of my head, I made myself think and focus .

Not just about her and why I couldn't let myself get involved with her, but because...everything .

If I really did care, maybe she did too .

No, neither of us had started this with any thought of a relationship, but it wasn't like it was off the table, was it ?

But that was the tricky thing .

I had no idea how things would turn out for me. They could go straight to hell if I kept going down this road. I didn't need to be dragging anybody else with me. And if I cared about Michelle ...

"If," I muttered. My voice sounded oddly loud in my small, sparse apartment. Dropping down onto my bed, I flung my forearm over my eyes. "Stop lying to yourself, King ."

There was no if . I cared about her .

I had for longer than I wanted to admit, and that was practically since day one. If I wanted to be really honest, I could just admit to myself that I had gone and fallen for her after those first few shy blushes .

But since that was the case, I needed to make up my mind. I couldn't pretend I didn't want to go over to her place, knock on her door, and ask if I'd been wrong .

If I did that, it would be for a reason and I could only do it if I made a decision .

But could I do that ?

Could I give up everything I'd been working toward ?

Everything I'd been fighting for ?

I didn't know .

But I wasn't certain I could keep living with this giant hole inside me either .