All Chapters of Crossing the line : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Ava’s POVThe newsroom felt different after the email.Colder. Quieter. Like everyone was pretending not to stare.I kept my head down, editing copy that wasn’t mine, avoiding Dana’s glass-walled office. The Chronicle hadn’t responded to my message—no reprimand yet, no apology either. Just silence. The kind that waited to decide if you were worth keeping.By five, most of the team had cleared out. The buzz of fluorescent lights filled the empty floor, and my monitor glow caught the edge of a name I shouldn’t have opened.Ethan Cole – Interview Reschedule.I’d pushed the second feature back twice already. “Personal reasons.” But he’d texted earlier:Ethan: If we don’t finish this tonight, Dana will send someone else.Ethan: Meet at the practice center after team hours. 8PM. Quiet.I should’ve said no. Instead, I’d just typed:Ava: I’ll be there.By the time I reached the Spectrum Center, the city was breathing in its blue hour calm. The parking lot was empty except for one silver SUV

Ethan’s POV The photo wouldn’t stop following me.Every scroll, every notification — there it was again. Me and Ava at the Chronicle shoot, caught mid-laugh, her hand brushing my arm like something that had never truly ended. The caption underneath didn’t help:“Old flames, new spark?”The internet had decided its own truth before the article even dropped.I tossed my phone onto the counter and exhaled hard. The hum of the fridge filled the silence of the apartment — familiar, steady, too loud for a morning that already felt heavy.Footsteps shuffled down the hall. Tyler appeared, hoodie half-zipped, backpack slung over his shoulder. His hair stuck up at odd angles — kid looked like he’d wrestled with sleep and lost.“You’re up early,” I said, reaching for a mug.“Coach said I could come in before class to help with drills.” He grabbed a protein bar and then spotted my phone lighting up again. “You’re trending. Again.”“Lucky me.”He tore open the wrapper, chewing slowly, eyes narrow

Ethan’s POVThe story had been out three days, but it felt like three months.Every time I turned on my phone, there was another notification, another article, another headline twisting the same thing into new shapes.“Scandal of Trust.”“Journalist’s Bias Threatens Comeback Star’s Credibility.”“Cole’s Secret Past with Reporter Ava Reynolds.”Everywhere I looked, it was our names — side by side — like some kind of headline curse.The team’s PR manager called me in that morning. His office smelled like burnt coffee and nerves. He didn’t even bother with small talk.“Ethan, we’re gonna need you to stay away from her.”I stared at him. “You mean Ava?”He nodded once, lips tight. “Until the Chronicle finishes their review. It’s not personal. Just optics.”That word again. Optics. Like everything I’d worked to rebuild — the therapy, the rehab, the years spent clawing my way back — could crumble because someone somewhere decided what it looked like.I leaned back in the chair, trying to ke

Ethan’s POVThe silence came back — heavier this time. Not the kind filled with noise or speculation, but the kind that settled after a storm when everyone else moved on, except the ones left standing in the wreckage.Ava didn’t respond after that last message. No calls. No texts. No signal. Just… quiet.I told myself I understood. That she needed space. That the post I’d made had already crossed enough lines for both of us.But understanding didn’t make it easier. It didn’t make the nights stop feeling longer than they should.By Tuesday, the headlines had started to cool — not vanish, just fade into the background hum of other scandals. The league hadn’t suspended me. Yet. But I could feel the tension in every hallway, every locker room conversation that stopped when I walked in.Daniels barely looked at me during practice. PR called twice to “debrief.” That was their word for warning.“Cole, stay offline,” they said. “No more statements. The sentiment’s turning, and we don’t want t

Ava’s POVBy morning, my name was everywhere again.Not just the gossip blogs this time — the sports networks too.“Cole Spotted at Reynolds’ Apartment — Late-Night Reconciliation?”“Journalist Turned Scandal Figure Rekindles Old Flame?”Different headlines, same story: I was the distraction. The woman behind the downfall.I shut the laptop, the glow of the screen still burning behind my eyes. Sleep had been a ghost all night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him in the rain — hood dripping, voice low, saying “Let them see.”I didn’t know whether to hate him or hold onto that look in his eyes — the one that made me believe, for one reckless second, that we could still be something more than collateral damage.The mug on my table had gone cold, but I took another sip anyway. The rain outside hadn’t stopped; it painted the skyline gray, blurring the world into something mercifully vague.My phone buzzed again — another notification, another article.I turned it off.Then grabbed my ke