Something to Prove

by Cathryn Parry

  MacArthur pivoted and gathered up his papers. In a moment, he would leave. The opportunity passed.

  I can fix this for her, Brody thought. With one action he could give Amanda what she really wanted, what she couldn’t fix for herself.

  I can make this estrangement with her father go away.

  But that action would mean the death of his team, and wasn’t he responsible for that? Like Harrison said, didn’t he have to think of them first?

  That’s a cop-out. He’d always known it, if he was honest. His team would survive if he left the tour. He would always take care of them, however he could, but he could no longer do it at the expense of his soul.

  Brody straightened. The true question was, did he want to spend his life hiding behind lamps, or did he want to face the truth honestly, the way Amanda did?

  Brody stepped forward. “MacArthur!”

  When his old coach looked up, Brody didn’t hesitate. He strode over and took Amanda’s laptop from her, then set it down. He clasped her cold, shaking hands and escorted her across the parquet to greet her father.

  “Your daughter is one in a million,” he said to MacArthur. “You’re missing out by overlooking her.”

  And while Amanda and MacArthur blinked at each other, and then, confused, at him, Brody swallowed and set into motion the machinery that once started he could never stop.

  “I don’t know if you’ve heard the news, sir, but Amanda is an excellent writer. She’s writing a story about me for Paradigm magazine in New York. You should talk with her about it.”

  And then Brody went back to his motor home, leaving them alone together. And he waited for the ax to fall.

  WHAT HAD JUST HAPPENED?

  Amanda stood stunned, staring after Brody’s retreating form. He’d had a two-day growth of beard and dark circles under his eyes, but he’d never looked better to her. She’d missed him so much.

  And yet, something had definitely gone wrong with him, because what was he doing talking to her father? Brody hated him more than anything. Why had he risked approaching him?

  He looks through me like I don’t exist. Like I’m invisible.

  She closed her eyes, remembering her words to Brody. And her afternoon in the gym, telling him her dreams for a relationship she didn’t know how to bring about herself. But Brody had tried to help her anyway.

  “Amanda?”

  She froze. Her father’s voice, speaking to her.

  She shuddered in her breath and turned to face him.

  This time, she didn’t see what she’d expected. On the contrary, his heavy dark brows—brows very much like hers—were drawn together and he was quietly studying her for the first time in months.

  And, oh, God, for a moment it made her heart glad. Because of all the things she’d hoped for with her dad when she was young, his pretending she didn’t exist had never been one.

  “What was Brody talking about?” he asked her.

  “I…don’t know,” she stammered. “Please tell me if you figure it out.”

  Her dad smiled at her. A full smile, spreading across his face and lighting up his eyes. When she was young and she’d done something right, she had lived for those smiles.

  “It’s good to see you here, Amanda.”

  She felt as if a heavy burden had lifted from her soul. “Thank you, Daddy, it’s good to be here.”

  “I’m busy just now,” he said. “Are you staying with your sister?”

  “I am.” Jeannie was the glue that kept them all together.

  As her father said goodbye and walked away, she felt her mother smiling down on her. And that felt good. She found herself walking in a daze. She looked up, and suddenly she was inside her hotel room. She wasn’t sure how she got there, because her head was swimming. But sitting on her hotel bed and staring into space, she felt a huge weight flying from her shoulders.

  Amanda was still sitting on her bed a half hour later when Jeannie knocked on the adjoining door, snapping her from her reverie.

  “Daddy just called me,” Jeannie said, limping inside and then leaning her crutches against the bed before she sat beside Amanda, the mattress sinking with her weight. “He said he talked with you down in the lobby just now, but he forgot to ask for your cell number. Mandy, are you okay?”

  “I’m…not sure,” Amanda said, shaking her head to clear it. She glanced at Jeannie. “Brody set up the reconciliation between Dad and me. But I don’t know why he did it.”

  “Maybe because he loves you, Amanda,” Jeannie said softly.

  What she wouldn’t give for that to be true. But it couldn’t be true, because if Brody did love her, he would have moved heaven and earth to make a future with her. Instead, after the introduction to her father, he’d walked away. She wouldn’t see him again.

  Her phone rang, causing her to jump. She checked the caller ID, and her heart sank because it wasn’t Brody.

  “It’s my editor. I need to take this.” Taking a sip of water from the bottle beside the bed, she connected with the call.

  “Amanda! How is my favorite reporter?”

  A mess. But her deadline for Paradigm was fast approaching, so she forced herself to smile, visualizing confidence and capability flowing through the four thousand miles of airwaves to Manhattan and the heart of the media industry she so desperately wanted to be part of. “I’m fine. You won’t be disappointed at what I’ve got going here.”

  “I never am, Amanda. In fact, we hear you’re doing excellent work.” Chelsea’s voice echoed as if she was on speakerphone.

  Who was with her? And who was telling her about Amanda? “Thanks,” she said, buying time. “What’s happening in New York?”

  “It’s snowing. I can’t get a cab to save my life.”

  Chelsea didn’t know from snowing. Amanda smiled to herself.

  “Listen, Amanda, I have someone special who’d like to speak to you.” There was a pause, and then the rattle of a chair rolling across carpet.

  “Hello, Ms. Jensen,” a deep, masculine voice boomed. “This is Vernon Trowel. I’m hearing tiptop things about your investigative reporting capabilities.”

  Vernon Trowel? The head of Millan-Rogers Media?

  Her mouth dropped open. The billionaire owner never descended into the offices of Paradigm magazine. His television and sports media stations on the top floor were more his tot of bourbon.

  “Um, hello, sir.” What was Vernon doing meeting with Chelsea? She wasn’t a direct underling to him, and they certainly weren’t close.

  He’s Daddy’s friend. They golf together every Christmas at Hilton Head.

  “What’s this about, sir?” she asked, her hand shaking on the receiver, the foreboding building within her.

  “I’m phoning because I’d like to personally greet our newest staff reporter. Welcome to the masthead, Ms. Jensen.”

  For a moment her heart didn’t beat. Her blood didn’t flow. Everything just stopped. A buzzing sounded in her ears, as if she wasn’t in her own body.

  What had he just said?

  “Cat got your tongue, Amanda?” Chelsea laughed in that high, tinkling voice of hers.

  I’m on the masthead! I’m on the masthead! I’m on the masthead!

  “I’m…thrilled!” Truly, she wanted to throw the phone in the air and scream. This was everything she’d worked so hard for. Everything she’d wanted.

  She jumped off the bed and began to pace. What had happened to make them change their minds before she’d even filed her piece?

  Vernon boomed into the speaker, “I’ll let you get back to your undercover work, Ms. Jensen.”

  She paused, confused. What undercover work?

  “Stay close to those skiers,” he ordered. And then a click sounded.

  “Amanda?” Chelsea was back on the line. “We’ve ordered an increase in print run for the month. I’m sending a photographer on tonight’s flight, but I’ll need you to keep a lid on it until he gets there. Can you meet him at the racecourse?”


  “I…already have photos of Brody,” Amanda said. Two great ones, in fact, taken at their mountain cabin.

  “I’m sure you do, but with the full-bore treatment we hope to give the story, it’s time to bring in the professionals.” Chelsea’s voice cackled. “Leave it to you, Amanda, to dig up a steroid scandal. Vernon is beside himself with happiness.”

  A steroid scandal?

  What? How?

  Amanda sank to the bed, her whole body numb. The phone dropped from her hand and she stared at it, lying in the middle of the unmade bed. Even from a distance she could hear the pleasure in Chelsea’s voice.

  “Haven’t I always taught you that absolutely everyone has skeletons in their closets? I knew if you searched hard enough you’d find the dirt.”

  She shook her head vehemently, as if Chelsea could see her. Because it was Brody they were letting down. He didn’t take drugs. He didn’t believe in cheating.

  Her hands shaking, she picked up the phone. Unbidden, scenes from her memory flashed into her consciousness: Brody, refusing Jeannie’s almond drink. Brody, bringing and preparing his own food on tour. Brody, upset with her over her baseball steroids article.

  Of course—why hadn’t she seen the clues? The steroid allegations were what he’d been hiding, what he’d been determined never to face again.

  She passed her hands over her eyes. All of a sudden she understood exactly why no one on his team—including him—thought they could tell her the truth.

  The simple fact was: her article had broken the story of those athletes who’d tested positive for illicit substances. She’d never followed through with what had happened to the men after her article had been printed, but maybe, if she looked into it, she would find that their careers hadn’t been the same since. Whether she’d meant for it to be that way or not.

  She hadn’t seen it from his point of view then, back in their snowstorm hideaway, and he couldn’t risk showing her—because she’d been looking at it as a journalist: present all sides. But what about when presenting certain sides wasn’t fair? What if, as he said, even the whisper of a doubt was enough to end his career?

  Talk about repercussions. And for proof of those repercussions, look at how excited Vernon was about the simple word steroids.

  He knew nothing else about the story with Brody, and maybe he needed to know nothing else. Because steroids coupled with Olympic skier Brody Jones meant career-ending controversy. Career-ending controversy meant more magazine sales. More magazine sales meant more profit for his quarterly income statement, and hence a higher stock price for his company.

  Her head pounded, and she wanted nothing more than to hang up the phone. But she couldn’t; she needed to find out all she could about the allegations against Brody.

  This is the long con he was worried about.

  Oh, God. Her throat felt so tight she could barely get the words out. “Chelsea, who leaked the news to you and Vernon?”

  She held her breath, but part of her already knew the answer. Who else with knowledge of Brody’s training had the motive and opportunity to place a personal call to Vernon Trowel? Who had both the means and the motivation to punish Brody for his past actions?

  “There’s no need to be coy, dear. Your father was as proud as punch of you. He says you’ve found a high-level official who wishes to remain anonymous. Way to use your contacts, Amanda.”

  Amanda lowered her head. The sinking in the pit of her stomach was the most horrible feeling ever.

  She felt the bed dip as Jeannie shifted beside her. Her sister had listened to every word that Chelsea had said. Amanda looked into her quiet face.

  And understood that Jeannie had known about Brody’s secret, even before this phone call.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “WHY, JEANNIE?” AMANDA ASKED. “Why didn’t you tell me about Brody and the steroids rumor?”

  Jeannie shook her head sadly. “If you print that word next to his name, Mandy, with your magazine’s weight behind it, he’ll have his record stripped and his reputation shredded. He won’t be able to show his face at a ski lift anywhere in the world. Is that what you want for him?”

  No, of course it wasn’t. But was this what it came down to? If she were to get what she wanted—the promotion and security at work—did she need to destroy the reputation of the man she cared about?

  “He knew that Dad had connections with Paradigm,” Amanda said, tearing at her hair, “and yet he’s the one who told him about the article. He set all of this up.” She paced across the ski-lodge–themed hotel room, thinking back to the look of intent on Brody’s face.

  She threw up her hands. “Jeannie, Brody had to know how the revelation would end. He had to know Dad would be tempted to pick up the phone and tell Vernon the dirt about him.”

  Jeannie slowly nodded. “You’re right.”

  Amanda grabbed for her phone. “I need to talk with Brody.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  But instead of Brody answering the call, Harrison picked up. “What?” he said.

  “Please,” Amanda pleaded, “let me speak with Brody.”

  “He’s preparing for his race. I’ll forward your message.”

  “Harrison, it’s urgent. It’s life and death for him.”

  There was a short silence. “Then you had better tell me what it is, and I’ll make that determination.”

  What choice did she have? Amanda swallowed and clutched the phone, her hands ice-cold. “My boss at Paradigm received a tip that Brody was involved with steroid use in his last race. She called me about it, and she wants me to investigate that tip. Please, I need to talk with Brody before he does anything reck—”

  “No can do, Ms. Jensen, my client is officially on lockdown from you.”

  “Harrison!”

  “You’ve done more than enough.” The phone clicked off.

  All her subsequent calls went directly to voicemail.

  BRODY CALMLY DRANK THE LAST bottle of Barolo wine he had in his RV, even as Harrison barreled inside his sanctuary, the door slamming behind him.

  “It’s done,” Harrison said, his voice as morose as if someone had died. “The news is out.”

  Brody sat back at the table and closed his eyes. He palmed his warm glass and drank deeply.

  “Don’t you understand?” Harrison shouted. “Paradigm magazine knows about the positive steroid tests!”

  And yet, the world still turns, Brody thought.

  His heart was still beating. His blood still flowed.

  He swirled the wine in his glass and didn’t let himself think about the rest of it. His life beyond this moment.

  “What are you going to do, Brody?”

  He didn’t know. He was in uncharted territory here. He looked at Harrison, knowing that Harrison would never have an answer for him.

  What would an honest man do?

  AMANDA PUT DOWN HER PHONE and cradled her head in her arms. “Why would he do this, Jeannie? Why would he incite Dad to bring him down? That makes it final, with no wiggle room. Even if I refuse to write the story, Paradigm will find someone else to do it anyway. I have no power to help him now.”

  Stupid man. There was no way she could get Brody out of the mess he’d made.

  Jeannie blinked her soft gray eyes at Amanda. “You can’t build a relationship on lies, Mandy. Obviously, Brody grew to realize that. Love has changed his priorities.”

  Amanda paced the small sitting room. She wanted to find Brody and shake him. She’d tried to give him the opportunity to come clean with her, but this was the way he chose?

  “I hate that he’s destroying himself for me. I wish he’d let me know back at the hotel when I’d asked him, and then I could have toned down my article without anybody having to read the word steroids next to his name.”

  “Would you have done that?” Jeannie asked. “Be honest. Until Brody set the events in motion by bringing your work to Dad’s attention, could you have set aside your job as a good investigative reporter
and let the steroid story go unchecked?”

  The truth burned. Because honestly, as much as Amanda liked to think she would have put Brody first, she probably wouldn’t have. And she’d shown Brody this, not only by putting him through the wringer with that emotional interview about his childhood, but then by waylaying his ski tech. Heck, for two days she’d been calling everybody on the tour he’d ever worked with, asking them questions, digging for more information.

  “What’s it going to take for you to see your worth isn’t in your job?” Jeannie asked softly. “That it’s in who you are?”

  Amanda lowered her head. The terry cloth robe had parted on Jeannie’s leg, and she was confronted with the scar from the accident that had ended her sister’s skiing career.

  As always, Amanda averted her eyes. She wished the bone-shattering crash hadn’t happened to her sister, or the resulting surgeries, riddled with complications and infections. Even though Jeannie was accepting of her obstacles and life changes, Amanda never could be. Not completely. Not even close.

  “I’m not like you, Jeannie. You lost your identity as an athlete, but you’re handling it. I could never handle losing my identity as a writer. I’d be in the worst position of weakness, like Mom. There’s no way I could survive that, just like she didn’t survive it. That’s what will happen if I can’t write for Paradigm. I told Brody this, almost from the beginning. But I don’t expect you to understand, because you have your medals to fall back on. And more than that, you have Massimo to take care of you. He loves you. You have a life ahead of you with him.”

  Jeannie pulled back her robe, exposing her injured leg from upper thigh to ankle. It was the first time Amanda had seen the extent of her injury.

  The scar was angry and it was jagged. It ran the full length of Jeannie’s left leg, which, she understood, was now an inch shorter than Jeannie’s right leg. Amanda sucked in her breath. She didn’t want to acknowledge it, so she turned away.