The bottom line, she wrote, was that the players had to take responsibility for themselves, their own actions, and the consequences, and that while most were doing exactly that, there were always going to be the ones who didn’t. That even on a young, talented team like the Heat, this was the case. And it wasn’t necessarily just the players to be blamed for turning a blind eye, but management as well. She quoted the guys themselves, each of them, including the fact that Ty was the only one who thought the rules were too strict.

Just as she finished the rough draft, Tommy called. “What,” he said, irritated. “You don’t return calls or e-mails anymore? Makes a guy nervous, doll. Especially a guy with a deadline. What have you got for me? Tell me you have something.”

She e-mailed him her article and waited.

“My God,” he whispered a few minutes later when he’d called her back after devouring her words. “So how does Ty get the stuff?”

“I didn’t say he’s using.”

“Oh, he’s using.” He paused. “I’m going to guess there’s a whole story here you haven’t yet told.”

She’d left Tucker and Red out of the equation, not for their sakes but for Pace’s—her own concession to what he meant to her.

“No worries,” Tommy said. “You’ve taken it far enough for now. The commissioner can deal with the fallout. You’re brilliant, doll. Did I tell you that? I’ll run it tonight.”

“No, I need a day.” She couldn’t let Pace read this without warning. She had to find a way to tell him what she’d done. “Promise me.”

“I have to admit,” he said instead. “I thought you might be losing your touch. Crushing on one of your subjects, taking your sweet-ass time getting to the meat . . . Can’t blame me, though; it’s been weeks and weeks. I figured you’d gone soft.”

“I mean it, Tommy. A day.”

“Fine. But this new you? The kinder, gentler version of my hard-assed, hard-nosed Holly Hutchins? I don’t know her. And I don’t like her either. Let’s meet next week and talk about what’s up next. See you in LA, doll.”

When she hung up, she stared at her computer screen. Tommy was right. She had changed. She was no longer a reporter who cared only about her story. She cared about the people she was writing about, deeply. She cared about the fact that someone was going to get hurt. Ty. The Heat.

Pace.

She’d been the catalyst for that, though not the cause, and she couldn’t save him from the hurt.

But she’d be there for him. If he could forgive, that is. She just hoped like hell he could.