20. Mallory
Mallory
The building felt colder that morning.
Maybe it was just me. Or the way I was sweating through my undershirt yet still somehow shivering, my palms clammy around the handle of the tote bag I’d carried in every day since the start of the season. Nothing in it had changed—snacks, charger, game schedule—but everything else had.
I passed the guys’ locker room, the usual buzz of early-morning jokes and half-laced skates echoing from inside, and headed down the quieter hallway toward the administrative offices. Toward Eliza’s office.
My heart pounded like I was about to face a firing squad, not a thirty-something woman with a perfect jawline and a scary-good memory for player stats.
I knocked once.
“Come in,” she called, voice crisp as always.
I stepped inside.
Eliza looked up from her laptop, expression unreadable in that way she’d perfected.
Her dark hair was pulled into a sleek bun, not a strand out of place.
Behind her, the Hellblades logo gleamed on the wall, framed by her minimal office decor—black leather chairs, a hanging plant she somehow hadn’t killed, and a calendar with every square marked in tiny, efficient handwriting.
“Mallory,” she said, setting her pen down and gesturing to the seat across from her. “Good Morning.”
“Morning,” I echoed, and sat.
She didn’t ask why I was there. Just watched me with the kind of patience that made me nervous. So I took a breath and jumped right in.
“I wanted to talk to you about something. Something personal, but it will also slightly effect my professional life as well," a small sigh escaped my lips.
Her brows lifted, just slightly. “Go on.”
“I’m pregnant.”
There. Out in the air. Floating between us like a snowflake that hadn’t landed yet.
Eli za didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. She just sat back in her chair, fingers steepled.
“I’m about fifteen, sixteen weeks along,” I added, because silence made me panic.
“I found out about a month or so ago. I’ve been trying to keep it quiet, waiting until I started to show before I told anyone.
But the morning sickness has been worse than a puck to the leg and was a bit of a give away with the guys… ”
Still nothing from her. But her eyes softened, just a fraction.
“And, uh…” I exhaled, hands gesturing wildly now.
“I have endometriosis, I was diagnoised in college and the doctors had told me it would be very, very hard to get pregnant, maybe not possible at all. And then it happened and… it felt like a fluke. A terrifying, beautiful fluke... I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. ”
I paused, feeling my throat go dry. Eliza’s expression hadn’t changed much, but something about the air between us did.
“And I know that’s probably way too much information,” I added quickly. “Sorry. That just kind of—spilled out. Woman to woman, I guess.”
Her mouth twitched. A hint of a smile.
“Jaymie’s been helping a lot,” I continued, quieter now. “He's not the father, but… he’s been amazing. He’s kind. Checks in. Came to one of my appointments last week. I don’ t know why I’m telling you that, but—he’s been there.”
She nodded once and finally spoke.
“You done?”
I laughed, nervously. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“Mallory,” she said, her voice gentle but still lined with steel, “this is not the first time I’ve heard a story like yours, and it most likely won't be the last. Women have been having babies for centuries.”
She gave me a wink. A real one. Dry and almost mischievous.
“I figured,” I murmured.
“But,” she continued, “I appreciate you coming to me now. This matters. Communication matters. Especially in this kind of organization.”
I nodded, my whole body leaning forward like I was waiting for permission to breathe.
“You’re doing good work,” she said simply. “With Jaymie. With the team. I’ve heard nothing but strong feedback about your instincts, your presence, and your ability to read the players.”
My heart knocked against my ribs.
“I’d like to keep you on throughout your pregnancy, as long as you're comfortable,” she said. “And when the time comes for maternity leave—or whatever you decide—I want you to know there will be a place for you here when you’re ready to come back.”
I b linked. “Seriously?”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” she replied, matter of factly.
A laugh escaped me—wet and shaky. “I didn’t know how this would go. I was worried you’d think… I don’t know. That I couldn’t keep up.”
She leaned forward, elbows on her desk. “You’re a part of this team. Your contract doesn’t expire until end of season, and I don’t make decisions based on fear. Women need other women in the industry supporting one another. Look how far we have come. If you want to be here, we’ll make it work.”
And just like that, the air came rushing back in my lungs. Relief hit like a wave I hadn’t realized I’d been holding back. I sagged into the chair, hands pressed to my face, then dropped them into my lap with a breathless, shaky laugh.
“Thank you,” I said, voice thick with emotion. “Really. You have no idea what that means.”
Eliza just smiled.
“I think I do.”
I left her office with the sun hitting my face through the windows, my boots clicking across the tile floor like punctuation.
Every step felt lighter. Like I’d been walking around with a sandbag on my chest and someone had finally lifted it away.
I still had a million things to figure out, and not nearly enough time to figure it all out.
But in that moment, for the first time in weeks, I let myself believe I migh t actually be okay.
That the future I was growing inside of me had a place in my world.