Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
T he fluorescent lights of the newsroom buzzed faintly overhead as Sarah stepped through the glass doors, the familiar scent of coffee, printer ink, and the faintest trace of stress filling the air. She tugged her coat tighter around her, not because she was cold, but because she was bracing herself.
It had been a week—a whole week—since she’d set foot in this building, since she’d answered any emails, texts, or calls. The snowstorm had given her the perfect excuse to unplug, but deep down, she knew it wasn’t just the weather that had kept her away.
It was Travis.
And everything they’d shared at the lake house.
She could still feel his warmth, hear the echoes of his laughter in the quiet moments of the morning, and recall the way his hands had felt tangled in hers. But reality was waiting—in the form of Jess, her ever-demanding boss, and Danielle, her equally curious coworker.
As she made her way to her desk, she could feel the eyes following her—some subtle, some not-so-subtle. She kept her gaze forward, her posture confident, even though her heart was pounding.
Before she could even drop her bag onto her chair, Danielle appeared out of nowhere, coffee in hand, eyes wide with curiosity.
“Where. Have. You. Been?” Danielle demanded, her voice low but urgent, like they were conspiring.
Sarah forced a casual shrug, hoping it was convincing. “Snowed in.”
Danielle raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “For a week? No calls? No texts?” She leaned in closer, her eyes narrowing. “Who were you snowed in with ?”
Sarah busied herself with booting up her computer, ignoring the heat rising in her cheeks. “Nobody. Just me. And a lot of snow.”
Danielle wasn’t buying it, but before she could press further, the sharp click of heels echoed through the office.
Sarah didn’t have to look up to know who it was.
Jess.
Her boss’s perfectly tailored blazer, impeccable makeup, and deadly stare were unmistakable. She stopped at the edge of Sarah’s desk, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
“Well,” Jess said, her voice cool and clipped, “look who decided to grace us with her presence.”
Sarah swallowed, keeping her tone even. “I emailed you the stories this morning.”
Jess’s eyes flicked, sharp and calculating. “Oh, I saw the timestamps, sweetheart. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”
The newsroom fell silent around them, the tension thick and heavy.
Sarah met Jess’s gaze, steady. “I had a situation. But I handled it. You’ve got your stories.”
Jess’s eyes narrowed, but after a beat, she nodded, her lips curling into a tight smile. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
And with that, she turned on her heel and disappeared into her office, the door clicking shut behind her.
Sarah let out a breath in one long, slow exhale. Danielle leaned closer, whispering, “Dang. You’ve got guts, Cooper.”
Sarah managed a small smile, but inside, her heart was racing. She wasn’t just back at work. She was about to blow up her whole career.
The hours ticked by painfully slow. Sarah kept her head down, working through her usual tasks, but her mind was spinning. She’d sent two articles to Jess that morning.
The first was the one Jess had expected—another hard-hitting exposé on hockey players, complete with anonymous sources, rumored parties, and just enough scandal to keep the readers hooked.
But the second…
The second was different.
It was about the humanity behind the sport. About the players who volunteered at community centers, the ones who mentored kids, the ones who struggled but tried—really tried—to be better. It was about the good that never got reported.
It was about Travis.
His heart, his spirit, his integrity—it was all there in every word.
And now, she was waiting.
Would Jess even consider running it? Or would she laugh in Sarah’s face and demand the original hit piece?
Sarah didn’t know. But she knew one thing for sure—she couldn’t keep doing this. Not after last week. Not after Travis.
She glanced at the clock. It had been nearly four hours since she’d sent the stories. The tension was suffocating, every tick of the second hand a reminder that her entire career could shift with a single decision.
And then, finally?—
“Cooper!”
Jess’s voice rang out across the newsroom.
Sarah stood, smoothing her blouse and walking toward the office with as much calm as she could muster. But inside? Her stomach was in knots.
Jess’s office was cold and sleek, all sharp lines and polished surfaces. Sarah stepped inside, and Jess didn’t bother offering her a seat.
For a moment, Jess said nothing, just stared at her from behind the massive glass desk. Then she picked up one of the articles—the second one—and held it between two fingers like it was some kind of delicate artifact.
“This,” Jess said, her voice low, “is not what I expected from you.”
Sarah’s heart sank, but she kept her expression neutral. “I figured it wasn’t.”
Jess set the paper down, tapping it with her manicured nails. “But it’s good. Really good.”
Sarah blinked. “What?”
Jess smirked. “You’ve got a new angle here. A different one. And it works. The readers will love it.”
For a moment, Sarah felt the tension drain from her shoulders, replaced by a quiet sense of relief and pride.
But then she remembered why she was here.
She straightened her spine, meeting Jess’s gaze. “I’m glad you liked it.” She took a breath. “But I’m giving my two weeks’ notice.”
Jess’s smile froze. “Excuse me?”
Sarah’s heart pounded, but her voice stayed steady. “I’m leaving. I’ve got an offer to work with a nonprofit publication. They focus on human interest stories, community work. It’s… it’s where I want to be.”
For a long moment, Jess just stared at her, as if trying to decide if this was some kind of joke. Then she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms.
“Well,” she said finally, her voice cool and measured, “I can’t say I’m surprised. You’ve been softening up lately. Losing that edge.”
Sarah smiled, but it wasn’t defensive—it was confident. “Maybe. But I think I’ve found something better.”
Jess’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t argue. After a beat, she nodded. “Fine. Two weeks.”
Sarah turned to leave, but Jess’s voice stopped her at the door.
“And Cooper?”
Sarah glanced back.
Jess held up the article again, her expression unreadable. “Good work. Really.”
Sarah’s chest warmed, but she didn’t let it distract her. She just nodded. “Thanks.”
And with that, she walked out of the office, feeling lighter than she had in years.
Danielle was waiting, practically vibrating with curiosity. “What happened? Are you fired? Did she yell at you? Are you famous now?”
Sarah laughed, shaking her head as she gathered her things. “She liked it.”
Danielle blinked. “Wait. What?”
“She’s running my story,” Sarah said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “But I gave my two weeks.”
Danielle’s jaw dropped. “You what?”
Sarah grinned, feeling the freedom settle in her bones. “I’m done, Danielle. I’m moving on.”
Danielle stared for a second longer, then a slow smile spread across her face. “Dang, Cooper. You’re my hero.”
Sarah laughed, waving over her shoulder as she walked out of the newsroom for the last time.
As the door closed behind her, she felt the weight of the past fall away, replaced by the exhilarating promise of something new.
And she couldn’t wait to tell Travis. But first, she’d let him focus on his game.