Drop the Mitts (Hit Behind the Net #2)

Chapter 1

It’s four am, easy, when I hear it—a soft whimper that quickly builds to a full-fledged, wall shaking cry, reverberating through the darkness. I groan, rubbing my eyes as I grab my phone, the bright screen coming to life confirming what I already know. It’s too damn early for this.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming, Lily,” I say, dragging my tired body out of bed. I stumble across the room, following the familiar path to the bassinet in the corner. All of my actions, my entire body is on autopilot. Lily’s cries get louder, more urgent, as if I’m not moving fast enough for her liking.

I reach the bassinet, peering down at her. She’s flailing her tiny fists in the air, her face red and scrunched up in frustration. “Alright, alright,” I whisper, reaching to scoop her up into my arms. Her body is so small, so light, but somehow it feels like she weighs a thousand pounds when I’m a walking zombie.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” I coo, bouncing her gently as I rock back and forth on my feet, trying to calm her down.

Her crying softens to a bearable whimper, and I take a deep, calming breath. The feeling of exhaustion that seeped into my bones after I had my daughter must be the new normal, because it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. I walk us both to the kitchen, keeping her close to my chest, and flip on the light. The harshness of the light stings my eyes, but Lily settles in, staring up at me with her big eyes. Her whimpering quiets to a soft, hiccuping sound.

“I know, I know,” I mumble as I grab a bottle and struggle to open the formula. “You’re hungry, huh? You and me both.”

I try to measure the formula with one hand while holding her with the other, the powder spilling a little onto the counter.

“Shit!” I curse under my breath, frustrated, but quickly catch myself.

“Sorry, little goose,” I mutter. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just… it’s going to be a long day, you know?”

I get the bottle ready, testing the temperature on my wrist. Once satisfied, I sit down in the worn-out rocking chair in the corner of the room. I cradle Lily in the crook of my arm, and bring the bottle to her lips. She latches on immediately, sucking eagerly.

“There you go, Lily,” I whisper. “I need you to have a real big appetite.”

When Lily was born she struggled with eating. She got no nutrients from my breast milk. I fought all day, every day to make sure that she was getting what she needed and growing stronger. Finally, my doctor told me that I needed to start supplementing with formula and that was the trick. She started to eat more, getting stronger, but she was still pretty little, despite the big appetite.

With the daily judgment that women get in life for every choice we make, not being able to nurse her felt like a failure, but those closest to me supported me and made sure I never second guessed anything. They told me to fuck what everyone else thought or said and do what was best for my daughter and me. From that day on, everything got a little bit easier.

As she eats, I rock us– back and forth, and back and forth–the repetition soothing me as much as it does her. I study her face, her big round pinchable apple cheeks, and her eyes—those big, green eyes, so full of innocence. Her father’s eyes.

The familiar sadness hits me, right in the chest. I try to ignore the emotions that always come when I see his eyes staring back at me from my daughter’s face. I’ve done everything imaginable to keep him out of my mind, out of my life, but how do I forget someone when a piece of him looks up at me every single day?

“Hey, little goose,” I say, shifting her slightly in my arms. She gazes up at me, her expression getting sleepy as her tiny hand reaches up, fingers curling around a strand of my hair. “You’ve got your daddy’s eyes, you know that?”

She just keeps on taking down the bottle, oblivious to the weight of what I’m saying. I feel a full range of emotions, practically all of them. A swirl of regret, frustration, sadness, happiness, joy and something else… something softer. I never expected to be here, at the ass crack of dawn, feeding my baby at four in the morning, barely able to keep track of what day it is.

This wasn’t part of my life plan. I never planned to be a mom, let alone a single mom, sneaking glances at my daughter, seeing the ghost of a man I planned to never see again. I imagined something different for myself—a life filled with travel, career success, maybe even a little romance when I had the time. But motherhood? A secret one-night stand with a man who made it very clear with every breath, that he would never settle down? Definitely not part of the plan.

But now, when I look down at Lily, I feel different. Sure, I’m exhausted, my hair is a mess, and I’m pretty sure I have spit-up, drool, who knows what on my shoulder, but somehow, I’m… okay. More than okay, I’m content with where my life is going. Maybe life isn’t what I expected, but sometimes unexpected isn’t such a bad thing.

“Yeah,” I whisper to her, feeling a small smile tug at my lips. “We’re gonna be just fine, aren’t we, Lily?”

She finishes her bottle, her eyes drifting shut as she lets out a tiny sigh, her tiny hands still gripping onto my hair. I gently pull my hair from her freakishly strong grip and replace it with my finger. I lean back in the chair, letting the quiet settle over us. Her breath evens out, soft and steady, and I feel my own heartbeat slow to match hers.

I know there are a million things I should be worried about—the bills, my job, how I’m going to make it all work. But right now, in this moment, it’s just me and Lily, and for a little while, that’s enough.

“Just you and me, kiddo,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’ve got this.” And for the first time in a long time, I almost believe it.

As I move through my morning routine, my thoughts drift back to the past year, a whirlwind of decisions and regrets that have led me here, to this cluttered apartment with baby toys scattered across the floor and the constant hum of a baby monitor in the background. I can’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia for what could have been—the life I had imagined for myself before that night.

I wonder sometimes if I should have told him, if maybe he deserves to know that he has a daughter, that those green eyes aren’t just mine to see every day. But then I think about the mess it could cause, the questions, the complications, and I feel that familiar frustration rising in my chest. Why haven’t I been able to come clean? Why do I keep letting this secret grow, becoming more tangled with every passing day? The longer I hold onto it, the more impossible it feels to share the truth. It’s like a knot tightening in my chest, and I’m scared that if I try to unravel it, everything might come undone.

Some days, it feels like I’m barely holding it all together. Between feeding Lily, changing her, calming her cries, and somehow finding a way to squeeze in the rest of my life during her short naps, I hardly have a minute to breathe, let alone think about myself. A hot shower feels like a luxury I can’t afford. My meals are whatever I can grab with one hand while rocking her with the other. My apartment looks like a tornado tore through a baby store, and the laundry pile in the corner keeps growing no matter how often I try to shrink it. The last thing I need right now is the added complication of reaching out to Lily’s father, who probably couldn't care less about what he’s left behind. I can’t imagine adding that mess to the chaos I’m already drowning in. For now, it’s just me and Lily, and that has to be enough.

The afternoon sun is warm on my face as I push Lily’s stroller down the sidewalk, the wheels bumping over cracks in the pavement. I breathe in the crisp fall air. In my opinion, this is the best time to be outside in Atlanta. There is something quaint in the air, like anything is possible. Hopefully, today, that ‘anything’ is trying to find some peace in our daily walk, but my mind is already racing ahead. It always does these days, running through lists of what needs to be done, what I can afford, what I can’t.

Lily is quiet for once, her big green eyes scanning the world around her with wholesome curiosity. I envy her ability to be so present, so blissfully unaware of all the things weighing me down. I wish I could be like her, if only for a moment, to just focus on the rhythm of my steps and the feel of the sun on my skin.

By the time we’re back in the apartment, I feel a headache coming on, a dull throb at the base of my skull. Lily starts fussing as I settle her into her rocker, and I sigh, glancing at the clock. I have a video call with my boss in ten minutes, and I haven’t even had a chance to brush my hair. I do a quick finger comb through the tangled mess, splash some water on my face, and grab my laptop, trying to set up at the kitchen counter where the light is decent.

Lily’s fussing turns to crying as soon as I hit Join Call , and I grit my teeth, forcing a smile as my boss’s face appears on the screen.

“Rachel, hey,” Steve says, his tone polite but a little wary. “How’s everything going? How’s the baby?”

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “She’s… good, thanks,” I reply, distracting her with one arm while the other holds the laptop steady. “We’re… adjusting.”

He nods, glancing at something off-screen. I know he’s probably checking the time, aware that this call isn’t going to be smooth or easy. “So, you wanted to talk about coming back to work soon?”

“Yes,” I say, keeping my tone firm, professional, even as Lily’s cries grow louder. “I need to get back to work, to be honest. I have another person to provide for now, and I can’t afford to wait any longer.”

He raises an eyebrow, and I see the doubt in his eyes. “Are you sure about this? It's no rush, you have more time you can use.”

I force a smile, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest. “Yes, I’m sure,” I say, but the words feel heavy in my mouth. “I need to work, but I can’t travel anymore. I have to stay close to home… for Lily.”

He sighs, rubbing his temples. “Rachel, you know that most of your old job requires travel. Are you really ready to give that up?”

My heart sinks at his words, even though I’ve already been thinking the same thing. Travel was always my favorite part of the job—new places, new faces, the thrill of being on the move. But now… now, it feels like a part of me is slipping away, and I can’t do anything to stop it.

“I know,” I say quietly, my voice betraying the slightest tremor. “But I don’t have a choice. Lily comes first.”

He nods, and I can see the sympathy in his eyes, but also the doubt. “We’ll make it work,” he says finally. “We’ll figure something out. But Rachel… you need to be sure this is what you want.”

I nod, even though I’m not sure at all. “I’m sure,” I say, trying to convince both of us. “I just… I need to do this for her.”

He hesitates for a moment, then nods again. “Alright. We’ll see how it goes. But Rachel… just know, if you ever change your mind—”

“I won’t,” I cut in, a bit too quickly, a bit too sharply. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to think about what could have been, or what might be if I decide to change my mind. I’m committed to this, to staying put, to doing what’s best for my daughter.

He gives me a tight smile. “Okay, then. Well if you're sure, be back here Monday morning.” And just like that, the call ends, leaving me alone with the echo of his words and Lily’s loud, wailing cries.

I feel a lump rise in my throat, and I swallow it down, blinking back the sting of tears. I knew this was going to be hard, but somehow hearing it out loud makes it feel more real, more final. I have to give up traveling, the part of my job I loved most, to provide for Lily, to give her the stability she deserves. And in doing so, I’ve closed the door on any chance of running into Lily’s father, of him finding out the truth. I pick up Lily to give myself the connection of comforting her.

I haven’t seen him since that night, and I’ve made sure to avoid any situation that might bring us face-to-face again. Now, with this decision, I’m convinced there won’t ever be a reason for us to meet again. It’s safer this way. Easier.

I glance down at Lily, who’s quieted in my arms, her bright eyes—his eyes—looking up at me with an innocence that tears at my heart. I feel a surge of love, so fierce it almost hurts.

I bend down, kissing her soft forehead. “I love you, little goose,” I whisper. “We’re going to be okay. We have to be.” But as I say the words, I wonder if I’m lying to both of us.

I try to balance Lily against my chest with one hand while feeding her a bottle with the other, but it’s a losing battle. She’s fussy, her little face scrunching up in discomfort, and every other few seconds, she spits it right back at me. The splatter lands on my jeans, adding another stain to my growing collection. I sigh, wiping it away with a damp cloth, trying to keep my frustration at bay.

“Come on, Lily, just a few more ounces,” I coax gently, smiling even though I feel anything but cheerful. “We’re almost done, I promise.”

She gives me a skeptical look—an impressive expression for a three month-old, and I can’t help but laugh. “You’ve got my attitude,” I mutter under my breath. “That’s for sure.”

Just as I’m about to settle into the rhythm of feeding her, my phone buzzes on the table, the screen lighting up with a message from Ziggy. I glance at it, expecting the usual check-in or a funny meme, but my heart sinks a little when I see what she’s asking.

Ziggy: Hey, Rachel!

So… I need you to

come out for dinner

and drinks next week.

Elliot has a friend

in town, and I

really don’t want

to be the third wheel.

Please say yes!

I blink at the screen, my first instinct to type back a polite but firm “no.” My life is anything but conducive to a night out these days. I’m juggling feedings, diaper changes, endless to-do lists, and the stress of returning to work. The idea of adding anything else to my plate feels almost laughable.

But then another message pops up, and Ziggy’s persistence makes me pause.

Ziggy: Come on, Rachel!

You need this break.

I won’t take no

for an answer.

I hesitate, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. She’s right—I do need a break. God, do I ever. My days have turned into a never-ending cycle of routine, of surviving rather than living. And maybe, just maybe, one night out with friends could help me feel a little more like myself again.

But then, the other part of my brain kicks in, the part that has been on overdrive ever since I found out I was pregnant. There are a thousand reasons I should stay home. Lily needs me. I’m already exhausted. And what if something happens? What if Lily doesn’t settle with the nanny, or what if she gets sick? And what if…

I take a deep breath, trying to drown out the rising tide of anxiety. “Come on, Rachel,” I mutter to myself. “You can’t stay locked away forever.”

By next week, I’ll be back at work. I have a nanny lined up—one who came highly recommended by my doctor. She’s experienced, calm, and trustworthy. I’m sure she can do a late night. I can let myself have one evening out, can’t I? What’s the harm? It can’t be as bad as the last time I let myself do whatever I wanted…

I shake my head, pushing away the memory of that night, the way it felt to let go for once, only to be left with the consequences that have defined my life ever since. But this is different. This is just one night with my friends. No complications, no surprises. Just me, a glass of wine, and a few hours of adult conversation. I can handle that. I text Ziggy back before I can change my mind.

Rachel: Okay, fine.

I’ll come. But only

because you’re being

so annoyingly persistent.

Almost immediately, my phone buzzes with Ziggy’s reply, filled with emojis and exclamation marks.

Ziggy: YAY!!!!

You won’t regret it!

We’re going to have

so much fun!

I set my phone down and glance over at Lily, who has finally calmed down, her little eyes half-closed as she smacks her lips. “What do you think, Lily?” I ask softly. “Can I take one night off?”

She doesn’t answer, of course, but her tiny hand reaches out and grabs my finger, holding on tight. I smile, my heart softening a little. Maybe Ziggy’s right. Maybe I do need this.

I arrange for my sitter—a slightly frightening woman named Heidi, with a strict routine and a sterling reputation–to work late that night. She assures me that she can handle anything I throw at her. Even a day at work and a late night out. To calm my guilt I rattle off like an overprotective mom, emergency numbers, feeding instructions, and bedtime routines. All things Heidi already knows. She assures me she’s got it all under control, that I should take this time for myself.

After I hang up, I feel a strange mix of nervousness and excitement bubbling up in my chest. I haven’t been to work in three months. I haven’t been out, out in… well, too long. I don’t even know if I remember how to relax anymore, how to let loose. Everything will be fine! I’m determined to try, to push the thoughts of the past to the back of my mind, to ignore the voice that tells me this is a bad idea.