“I tried to call you,” Hannah says. “You didn’t answer.”

“Would it have made a difference?” Logan says. “If you’d reached me and I’d asked you not to run the story?”

“Probably not.”

There’s a bench in the grass for people to sit and read the paper. Logan flops onto it and holds his head in his hands.

“Look,” Hannah says, sitting next to him. “I’m sorry, but this is a good story. ‘A hero passerby saves a young girl from drowning.’ People complain all the time that newspapers only report the bad news. Here is a feel-good story—someone doing something good, something heroic. I’m sorry you don’t like it, but I’m glad I wrote it.”

She wants him to see that he did a good thing and that people should know about it. This is the kind of news people like to read about, not the wars and murders and government corruption that always dominate headlines.

She tries to place her hand on his shoulder, but he jerks away. She has a sick, sinking feeling in her stomach. Yesterday, they were practically ready to make out. Today, she can’t even lay a comforting hand on his shoulder without him flinching. It hits her then: they’re never going to go out on a date. They’ll probably never even be friends. Her chances of any kind of relationship with him have vanished like a ripple on a pond.

“Aren’t I entitled to my privacy?” Logan says.

She shrugs. “You did something in a public place where there were witnesses. You’re entitled to say no to an interview, but if there are other people I can interview, then there’s nothing you can do to stop me from talking to them and reporting on what they say.”

“Is there ever a time when you wouldn’t report something you thought was newsworthy?”

“No.”

Logan takes a deep breath and seems to relax a little with the exhalation.

“How is the girl, by the way?” he asks.

Now Hannah beams again—a big, genuine, heartfelt smile. “She’s doing great.”

Hannah explains that the little girl’s name is Patricia—everyone calls her Patty—and that her father, a doctor from San Francisco, had rented the cabin for a few weeks to spend time with his two girls.

“He said he’d happily pay you a reward for saving her,” Hannah adds. “It’s the least he could do.”

Logan dismisses the idea with a wave of his hand.

“You know,” he says, looking down at the picture of himself, “I don’t even remember you taking that picture.”

Hannah opens her mouth to speak, and he cuts her off.

“I’m sorry I got so mad,” he says, “but I’m a private person. I don’t like a lot of attention.”

“Well,” Hannah says, reluctantly, “I’ve got some bad news for you.”