Chapter 19
The camera zooms in on the ice, and I lose myself in the familiar sounds of the game. I’ve always loved the game of hockey, more than all of the other sports. I have no experience playing it, but for some reason one day, I just gravitated toward it and never looked back. I’ve always watched objectively, never really having a favorite team or player. Now, as I watch the Red Wolves, it’s more personal than it’s ever been before. I want them to win now, no matter who they are playing. Oren looks so at home out there, completely in his element on his skates, and that makes me proud. Any objectivity I had has gone straight out the window and shot straight to hell. I want him to succeed, I want him to win. Oren has accomplished so much, especially since I've turned his life upside down.
Oren’s expression on the ice is intense, his stance powerful and completely focused, and I wonder what’s going through his mind. Is he thinking about the game? About his next move? He has worked so hard to get his mind right since I told him about Lily. I know his career depends on it, but that doesn’t keep me from wondering if we are still there in the back of his mind. I sigh, leaning back on the couch. Watching him skate is captivating. An array of emotions comes with watching him play. Pride, worry, attraction, irritation, longing—all of it swirling together in a confusing mess that I can’t untangle.
The game continues on, but I’m a million miles away. Lost in how Oren looks at Lily, the way he looks at me sometimes like he’s trying to figure out what this all means. I bite my lip, my heart racing a little faster than it should be. I tell myself it’s just the excitement of the game, but deep down, I know it’s more than that. It’s always been more than that. I have this deep-seated notion that while I want him to keep his word and be there for Lily, I don’t want him to think he needs to be perfect. His preconceived notion that if he isn’t perfect at every task, he is failing, is so far from the truth. My guess is that it stems from being a professional athlete, but no one is perfect, not even him. He doesn’t need to consistently prove himself to me, for us, he just has to be himself and be okay. It’s the same thing I’m searching for.
I keep myself uncharacteristically quiet, afraid that if I start cheering them on, it might give away my feelings for Oren. Or betray my secrets, and the reality of our relationship to my friends. That fear causes me to retreat within myself instead of celebrating like I normally would. The closer we get to telling everyone the truth, the worse the fear gets. The fear that the shame of my lies has caused. The possibility that they might not understand the reasons for my secrets, that my deepest, darkest secrets were born out of misguided necessity.
Oren has made it very clear that he doesn’t like being kept a secret, but he’s willing to do it—for now, at least. He doesn’t buy my line about how keeping the truth to ourselves doesn’t hurt anyone. Deep down, I don’t think I’m making the right decision–again. Or anymore. Despite not knowing how everyone will react when they find out. When the truth finally comes out, will they be happy for me? For us? Or will they not forgive me for keeping vital details from them? But it’s selfish of me to just protect myself and hurt everyone else in the process. I take a deep breath, forcing myself back to the game playing on the screen. I try to focus on the commentator’s voice, but my mind doesn’t stay where it should be for very long.
Lily starts to get fussy, her sounds of frustration growing louder, demanding my attention. I get up to go calm her down, but Ziggy reaches out, stopping me with a gentle hand on my arm.
“I’ve got it,” she says with a warm smile. "Keep watching the game."
I hesitate for a second, but Ziggy’s already scooping Lily up. “Thanks,” I say, feeling a mix of gratitude and relief. “She’s definitely getting restless.”
Ziggy laughs softly, bouncing Lily lightly on her hip, her movements soothing. “No worries, Rachel,” she replies, making a silly face that immediately captures Lily’s attention as the two of them head into another room on an ‘adventure’.
The lines between what I’m doing for Lily and what I’m doing for myself started to blur along the way, and I don’t know what any of it means. Letting Oren into our lives was a non-negotiable the moment he found out Lily existed, and for that, I am thankful. I always wanted Lily to have her father in her life on his terms. Never wanting it to be because I forced him to. Oren has made that incredibly easy for us with his willingness and interest in building their relationship. Being her parent. Neither of us asked to end up in this twisted-up, tangled situation. The problem is, the further we get into this, I’m not so sure where her needs end and mine begin.
Confusion follows the path of the anxiety tightening in my chest as I watch Oren moving defensively, his eyes locked on the puck. His body moves with a certain grace that isn’t usually found in someone who looks like him. When most people see Oren, they see a tough guy, head to toe tattoos. His bleached curls and sharp eyes give him an edge. But behind his edge is something beautiful, and that’s hard to ignore. He does everything with intention, and I’ve been lucky enough to witness it firsthand. He’s fighting for himself out there, and it makes me wonder if he’s fighting for us, too—which gives me butterflies, and scares the hell out of me.
I feel a tear prick at the corner of my eye, and I quickly blink it away, not wanting Elliot to notice something is off about me. I’m not just here to watch the game; I’m here because I miss him and because I want to see him play. The fact that I am captivated by the person he has become to us isn’t helping. It’s blurred the lines, and I’m scared of what that means.
By the last few minutes of the game, I’m perched on the edge of the couch, my eyes glued to the screen. The Red Wolves have played a tight, defensive game, but they’ve let a few too many saves slip through, and now the teams are tied. The New Jersey Reapers have been relentless. Every time they gain possession, my heart jumps into my throat. The Reapers captain has a wicked slapshot and is currently in possession of the puck, charging down the ice. He dodges Oren with a slick fake out, and the rest of the Red Wolves defensemen trail behind. It's obvious when the Reapers score again that the Red Wolves team is starting to tire. The score is 3-2, Reapers, and only a minute is left in the game. The sharp whistles of the referees cut through the excitement of the New Jersey fans, and I can even feel it through the screen.
Oren is playing with everything he has, but his moves are less fluid, and there’s a heaviness to him now. I watch him fight for control, battling for the puck in the corner, throwing his body into every check, every block. He’s got the fate of the whole game on his shoulders and I can see the frustration splintering his composure. Every missed opportunity, every failed play cracking it further.
I feel for Oren, they are so damn close to tieing the game up, but not quite there yet. I watch as he circles back toward the net, his eyes scanning the ice for an opening, but the Reapers are closing in. Oren intercepts a pass, stealing the puck from one of New Jersey’s forwards with a quick flick of his stick. My breath halts as he takes off down the ice, moving faster than I’ve ever seen him, his muscles straining, his eyes locked on the goal.
He crosses the blue line, winding up for a shot, and the whole arena seems to hold its breath. Just as he’s about to release the puck, a Reapers defenseman comes barreling toward him from the side, his stick stretched out in a desperate attempt to block the shot. Oren hesitates for half a second too long, long enough to allow the defenseman to make contact, letting the puck skitter across the ice.
I let out a frustrated groan, my fingers digging into the edge of the couch cushion. “Come on, Oren,” I whisper, pleading, willing him to find another chance.
Oren immediately pivots, chasing after the loose puck, his skates digging into the ice. He manages to regain control, but now he’s got two Reapers shadows, leaving him no room to breathe. He sees Ford, the Captain, streaking toward the net, and with a moment's hesitation, he snaps a quick pass across the ice, sending it straight through the other team's defenseman but perfectly out of reach.
The crowd gasps, and for a split second, time seems to stand still. Ford catches the pass and winds up for a perfect shot, but the Reapers’ goalie snaps his pads to block the puck with a solid thud. Oren gets the puck again, darting in a desperate attempt to take the game into overtime. He gets checked hard, the defenseman slamming into him with brutal force that jolts his body as he hits the boards, but he keeps his balance, never giving up control of the puck. They surround him, battering him from all sides, using every tactic to keep him from taking a shot. The Red Wolves scramble to come to his rescue, but it’s too late—the clock ticks down. I watch helplessly as the buzzer sounds, and it’s over. The Reapers win, 3-2.
A rush of disappointment causes my chest to tighten. I know how much this loss will eat at Oren, how much this will affect him. I watch him skate to the edge of the camera view, his shoulders slumped, his head down. The look on his face is enough to break my heart.
“They played well, so this loss sucks,” Ziggy murmurs from her spot across the room, but I can’t bring myself to respond.
Elliot leans over, nudging me with his elbow, ripping me from my daze. “So, what do you think you’ll say for your recap tomorrow?” he asks, his tone all business.
I force a smile, appreciating his curiosity. “I think I’ll focus on the defensive power and capitalizing on power plays. It was a close game for both teams; neither one of them gave up.”
“Oh, come on, you two!” Ziggy rolls her eyes dramatically. “Can we please stop being so boring? It’s Saturday night, and you’re talking about work!”
I start to laugh, and Elliot and I both ignore her playful scolding. It feels like I’m slipping into a familiar rhythm. One that almost makes me forget the knot that’s been in my stomach from the moment I pulled into their driveway. I stand up and start gathering plates, helping clear the dishes before I get Lily ready to leave. The practiced tasks keep me distracted, giving me something to focus on other than the thoughts swirling in my head.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket. Like clockwork. I don’t have to look to know who it is—Oren, calling right on time. I want to talk to him, ask him how he is doing after the game. Find out if he is okay. If he is upset, and if he is, I want to try to make him feel better. I can’t do any of that here. That would raise a glaring red flag. I hesitate, maybe I should just let it go to voicemail? But my hand moves on its own, pulling out the phone and answering carefully.
“Hey,” I say, trying to keep my voice light.
“Hey,” Oren replies, and I can hear the muffled sounds of the locker room in the background. “Is Lily still awake? I want to make up for missing her earlier.”
I glance over at Ziggy and Elliot, who are thankfully distracted by Lily. I lower my voice. “I’m at Ziggy’s right now,” I say a little too quickly. “I’ll have to call you back.”
He’s silent for a moment, then his tone shifts. “What the fuck, Rachel? Why are you so hell-bent on keeping this a secret? You’re going to have to tell them eventually.”
I feel my cheeks flush, and my heart starts pounding a little faster. “I know, I know,” I murmur, but his scoff doesn’t read as convinced. “I’ll call you back when I get home, okay?”
He lets out a sigh. “Yeah, sure,” the irritation and anger in his voice is very obvious. “Later, then.”
I hang up, the ever present guilt in my stomach starting to twist and compound on itself. I turn back to Ziggy and Elliot, plastering a smile on my face, pretending like nothing’s wrong, and start packing up Lily's things. I stuff her toys back into the diaper bag and fold the blanket she’d been playing on, making sure I’ve got all her little essentials. It's a routine I could do in my sleep, but tonight, every small task seems to be incredibly difficult, my thoughts drifting back to Oren and the hurt I heard in his voice.
I walk over to Ziggy, who’s been holding Lily, and gently reach for her. “Alright, time for us to head out,” I say, trying to sound cheerful. Ziggy hands Lily over, giving her a little squeeze before letting go. I cradle Lily in my arms, feeling her warm, soft weight against me, and sling her bag over my shoulder. "Thanks for having us," I add, too bright, too forced, feeling like an absolute phony.
On the way home, Lily starts to fuss, so I take her in for a quick bath. The warm, lavender water calms her down slowly, and as she relaxes, so do I. After she’s clean, in her favorite pajamas, we settle into the rocking chair to video chat Oren.
He picks up on the first ring. “Hey,” he says, and I can tell right away that he’s still pissed.
“Hey,” I reply, my voice softer. “Sorry about earlier. I was at Zig–.”
“I know where you were,” he says, cutting me off. There’s a pause, and I can hear him take a deep breath. “It’s whatever, I just want to talk to Lily,” he says, but it’s clear there is a lot more he wants to say.
I hold the phone up so he can talk to Lily. He softens immediately, his voice so gentle as he talks to her, asking about her day. Lily babbles back, giggling, and all I want to do is cry. He’s so good with her, so natural, and it makes this all feel even more complicated. Right now, I feel more like the bad guy than anything else.
It doesn’t take long before Lily’s eyes droop. I prop the phone up on the side table, keeping the call connected, and tuck her into her crib, whispering softly until she’s completely out. I pick the phone back up and head into the living room, closing the door quietly behind me.
I sink onto the couch, feeling exhausted but needing to talk to him. I don’t want him to be mad at me. I can’t end the night like this. “So… I know you have an early flight. Are you going down to the hotel bar tonight?” I ask, trying to keep it light and friendly, something to shift the mood to a safer topic. He doesn’t respond right away.
Finally, he says, “No, Rachel. Why do you care?”
“I thought we were becoming friends,” I say, frowning, keeping my voice steady. “Friends talk about stuff. Like their plans.”
There’s a beat of silence before he snaps, “Yeah, sure. Friends who hide that I’m Lily’s father from our mutual friends.”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. “Oren, it’s not like that,” I say, feeling defensive. “I just…I don’t know how to say it.”
He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh, come on, Rachel. You’re great with words. You say them all the time on TV.”
I start to get pissed, my cheeks burning. “This isn’t some recap, Oren!” I snap back. “This is my life. It’s our life. And it’s very difficult.”
He sighs, and I can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “I get that it’s difficult and complicated, Rachel, but you’re hiding. You’re hiding me as Lily’s father. I have to keep the best thing that has ever happened to me from my best friend. Do you know what it feels like to hear from Elliot about spending time with my daughter and having to act like I don't care? Whether you realize it or not, you are keeping me from truly being Lily’s parent, and it sucks. It sucks a lot.”
I bite my lip, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill over. “I’m sorry. I know I need to tell them,” I admit, my voice trembling. What I want to tell him is that I’m scared. Scared that once I do, I’ll have to face all these feelings I’ve been shoving down. Feelings about him. About us. About how I don’t want to watch his games, but I can’t help it. About how I don’t want to care about him, but I do. About how I don’t want to miss him, but I can’t stop myself.
There’s a heavy silence on the line. Instead of saying what I’m thinking, I tell yet another half-truth. “It’s easier to protect myself from the fallout if I don’t have to tell anyone else,” I whisper, the words hanging between us like a confession.
Oren is quiet for a long moment, and when he finally speaks, his face softens, and his voice is less angry. “I can’t protect you from what happens when the truth comes out, but I will be on your side when it does,” he says quietly. “I know, in my heart, that the only thing that Ziggy and Elliot will do when they find out the truth is support you. I’m just asking you to let all of us in. Tell them, and don’t shut me out.”
I close my eyes, feeling the weight of his words settle on my shoulders. “I will tell them–soon. And I’m trying to let you in, Oren,” I whisper back. “I really am.”
There’s another pause, and then he sighs. “Okay,” he says finally. “Just…I promise that I will be there for you. You just have to let me.”
“I know,” I say, my voice breaking a little.
We sit in silence for a few more moments, just staring at each other on the video. The fire that had escalated quickly between us slowly eases. I feel a small flicker of hope that I can do everything I keep promising instead of letting a small ember of fear threaten to burn down everything I’ve built.