Chapter 5
It’s been four weeks since my second fateful night with Oren and no matter how hard I try, his presence still lingers in the back of my mind. Like a shadow I can’t shake. I’ve been doing everything I can to shut the thought of him out—locking it away tightly behind the walls I’ve built around myself.
Being back at work helps, and I'm grateful for the distraction. My new position has me handling local games and in-studio segments for around the league. Now that Elliot is officially my coworker, he has replaced Ziggy as my work bestie. Despite what he might say, Elliot has enjoyed being able to gossip with me like one of the girls at work. That has made the transition from being with Lily to being back at work easier. The down side is not being able to be completely truthful about what I'm going through. It's hard speaking in circles around what’s actually eating away at me.
I sit across a small table in the cafeteria, eating lunch with Elliot. We’re both on a tight schedule so we are squeezing in a quick sandwich and salad before we have to start recording for the New Jersey Reapers and Denver Buffalos game this afternoon. The clock is ticking down rapidly, less than an hour before our call times. I push my salad around on my plate, actively not listening to what he is saying but still trying to seem engaged. The truth is my mind is millions of miles away. I can sense Elliot studying me, watching a little too close for comfort. So I should have seen the question coming before he even speaks.
“What’s wrong with you, Rachel?” Elliot asks, sounding hyper concerned. I shoot him a glare before plastering a casual smile on my face.
“Real nice, asshole. There’s nothing wrong,” I reply quickly, too quickly, my voice way too bright to match the rest of my vibe.
Elliot doesn’t buy it, not even for a nanosecond. “Come on, don’t try to bullshit me. I know you better than that. What is it? Work? Lily?” He leans back against the small plastic chair, making it look like it might crack under the pressure of his weight. His arms are crossed, a skeptical look on his face.
I swallow hard, trying to keep the smile in place. He’s right, of course. I’ve been a mess, and it’s all because of the secrets I’ve been keeping. The fucking tangled web I’ve woven and trapped myself in. But I can’t say that, I can’t say anything. Or be honest, especially not with Elliot or Ziggy. Two of my closest friends. I know they won’t judge me for my secrets—I know they care about me too much for that. But they won't understand. And having to explain my actions and my choices is enough to paralyze me. Keeping me from spilling the truth and laying it all out there.
“Seriously, it’s nothing,” I say, shrugging and trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground. “Just regular work stress, I need my first day back commentating to be perfect. Speaking of, did you read over the notes I sent? I think we might need to rework the segment on Denver’s defense. ”
Elliot watches me for a moment longer. Finally, he sighs, running a hand over his mustache like an exasperated comic book villain. “Fine, I’ll buy your bullshit for now. But I'll be here when you are ready to talk.”
I nod, grateful that he’s letting me off the hook, but also feeling more guilty than before. “I know, and I appreciate it,” I say, forcing a smile.
Elliot gives me a small smile before diving back into rambling on about some ridiculous stat he heard about the Reapers' defense, and I’m back to half-listening. I haven’t been on camera since before Lily and at this point that feels like forever ago. I’m ready to analyze and dissect plays, players, and strategies but not necessarily ready to do it under the microscope of a camera. My worry just invites the numerous doubts that keep creeping into my mind. Constant reminders that everything still feels out of place. This new version of me, the one who juggles bottles and stat sheets, is having a hard time remembering that at one point, long ago, I used to feel like a badass. Now I just have to figure out how to navigate this new version of who I am and how I operate.
At home we’ve got a routine, one that’s given me this sense of numbing comfort. Heidi, the nanny, has become what dreams are made of. She is single handedly making it easier to balance trying to do it all. But, if I’m completely honest, life has become painfully boring. I go to work, come home, take care of Lily, and fall into bed exhausted—only to wake up and do it all over again. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t change a thing, it’s just not what I expected.
Today is one of those rare, precious days where I don’t have to juggle deadlines or navigate the pressures of work. Especially after this past week's incredibly difficult filming. Today, it’s just me, Lily, and a much-needed break with Ziggy. I push Lily in the stroller toward the little bistro I’m supposed to meet Ziggy at. There is a lightness in my step, one that I've been missing, as I make it to the door.
Ziggy beat us there, so Lily and I are led to the sunny table outside where we find her waving with that sparkling grin of hers. “There you are!” she exclaims as I maneuver the stroller up to the table.
“And there’s my favorite person ever!” She leans down squealing at Lily, who’s wide-eyed and grinning, soaking up all of the attention.
“Hey, Ziggy,” I laugh, getting comfortable across from her. “Thanks for dragging me out today. This is much needed.”
“Anytime,” Ziggy says, her eyes twinkling. “You aren’t the only one who needs the break. Plus I need my Lily fix!”
We chat over coffee and brunch, and I start to really relax, actually feeling like myself. Ziggy keeps the conversation easy and gossipy, filling me in on the latest drama from her HOA. It's amazing to me how grown people can act like children, all in the name of ‘the neighborhood’. I hope to never have to deal with any of that nonsense first hand. I’ll stick to hearing about it through other people. Ziggy tells me more about her not so new job—she is really making her mark on national news as ANN’s up-and-coming anchor. She’s been covering some wild stories recently and, in my opinion, that shows that her boss really trusts her.
After brunch, we walk over to the boutiques a few blocks away. Shopping is absolutely Ziggy’s favorite activity ever. While it might not be mine, I still enjoy doing it with Ziggy. Every time I spend the day with her, I laugh harder than the time before. It's crazy to think how different things are from when we first met. That first few weeks after she started working at ACN I thought we would never get along. We seemed so different. She was this girly girl, with a prim and proper stick up her ass, acting like she didn’t belong there, but now that I know her better I realize that it was just her way of coping with what life threw her way. That is a sentiment that I now know all too well.
Ziggy insists on stopping at every window, exploring every new display inside, pointing out outfits she thinks would be perfect for me. Her energy is contagious as she drags me around insisting I try them on.
“You need to treat yourself,” she declares, handing me a bright red dress that’s way, WAY outside my usual comfort zone. “Come on, live a little.”
I’ve never been overly fashionable. I’m no slouch or anything but I've always been more of an ‘about the convenience’ kinda girl. Which has only gotten more important with a four month old.
“When am I ever going to wear this?” I roll my eyes but take the dress anyway, slipping into the dressing room. There is this small piece of me that needs to stay hidden, that gets a thrill at the idea of wearing something bold again.
Once I have the dress on, I step out, and Ziggy claps her hands, grinning ear to ear. “See? Gorgeous! You have to get it.”
I chuckle nervously, feeling a bit self-conscious but definitely sexier. “Okay, okay, fine, you win,” I say, twirling for her. “I’ll take it.”
We spend the rest of the afternoon wandering through the shops, picking out a few things for Lily—cute little onesies and a squishy wolf stuffed toy that Ziggy insists she needs. Instead of heading home after shopping, I let her convince me to hang out at their house and have dinner with them. By the time I got Lily in the car, she had fallen asleep, so I drove an extra long route so that she could nap before getting to their house.
When I get there, I walk in like I own the place, because that’s just how it is with these two. It's oddly quiet so I head outside to find Elliot already prepping the grill on the patio. He waves as Lily and I walk up, with a beer in his other hand.
“Look who decided to join us!” he calls out, doing a weird eyebrow lift at me.
“Only because Ziggy dragged me,” I tease, lifting Lily out of her carseat.
Elliot laughs. “Well, good thing she did. I’ve got plenty of food, and I can only take so much of listening to Ziggy talk my ear off.”
Ziggy rolls her eyes but smiles, leaning in to give him an obscenely wet kiss. It is equal parts gross and sweet. It makes me wish I had someone to come home to each night. “You love it, admit it.”
We settle in at the patio table, the smell of perfectly grilled steaks filling the air. Darkness has settled over everything, but the weather is still perfect. Lily sits on my lap giggling as we watch Elliot and Ziggy banter, their easy, comfortable rhythm a reminder of what it feels like to be around people who care, who know you, and always support you.
Elliot serves up the steak, sides, and a sinfully good glass of red wine and we dig in. And just like that, my phone rings. I must have cursed myself savoring my dinner or something. I got too comfortable, or was having too much fun and the universe needed to remind me who is in charge. I check the screen–my boss. I know immediately it’s going to be one of those calls where I probably don’t like what’s about to be said. I hand Lily over to Ziggy and step away, picking up then balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear. The tightness in my chest grows.
Steve’s voice is brisk, cutting straight to the point. “Rachel, I need you to cover the Charlotte game this weekend. It’s a last-minute change, but you’re the only one we have for this one.”
I bite back the groan that rises in my throat and force a smile, even though he can’t see it. “I can’t,” I reply, trying to keep my tone professional and composed.
“I have a child who depends on me now, I can’t just fly off on a whim anymore.” But inside, my heart sinks. I want to be able to travel, to be the person I was back before everything changed.
I love my job. What if me saying no makes me a problem? What if they stop giving me assignments…what will I do then? The panic starts to bubble up, threatening to take over. I try to push back, “Is there anyone else who can take it? I really don’t think—”
But he cuts me off, practically pleading now. “Rachel, please. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t our only option. It’s very important and I’ll do whatever it takes to make this as easy on you as possible. We’ll handle your childcare, make it so that Lily can go with you. Please. Just… make this happen, okay?”
I feel my shoulders sag. I have no argument; there’s no way out of this one. “Fine,” I sigh, anxiety already souring my stomach. “I’ll go. Who is Charlotte playing?
“It will be an easy game for you. It's the Timbers versus the Red Wolves,” he says with way more happiness than I was capable of after those words. My mouth goes dry, my body filling with dread over what this trip could mean. As soon as I hang up, a surge of anxiety grips me. Going to Charlotte means being near the Red Wolves again, knowing there’s no way to avoid the ghosts I’ve been running from.
My heart pounds in my chest, and I quickly check my calendar, my mind racing. Heidi! Maybe I can pay overtime to watch Lily and I can go and come in 24 hours. It's worth asking, so I dial her number. When Heidi finally picks up, I don’t even wait for her to say hello.
“Heidi, please, I need a huge favor,” I blurt out, desperation laced in my voice. “I have to cover the Charlotte game this weekend. Is there any way you can watch Lily? I know it’s last-minute, but I’m really in a bind here.”
Heidi’s voice comes through, apologetic and firm. “I’m so sorry, Rachel, but I’ve already got plans this weekend. I wish I could help, but I just can’t.”
My heart sinks, and I thank her quickly, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. I immediately rush over to the table where Elliot, Ziggy and Lily are finishing up their dinner. I’m practically pleading with the universe that they might be able to step in. I detail the conversation with my boss and my new travel plans, and ask the motherlode of all favors. In the name of not wanting to disrupt Lily’s routine, not the real reasons.
“Rach, I’m sorry, but I’m out on assignment all weekend, and Elliot’s got back-to-back games. We’re both swamped.” She senses my disappointment and follows it up with, “I’m really sorry Rachel.”
“It’s okay, I understand. This is obviously very last minute,” I say, frustration clawing at my chest.
My two go-to lifelines are unavailable, and I’m out of options, and taking Lily with me to the game is the last thing I ever want to do but now it feels inevitably terrifying. I go back to attempting to finish my dinner and just push the food around my plate. A cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck as I imagine the possibility of running into Oren—especially with my baby in tow.
A few days later after all the travel arrangements are made and I’ve not found any sort of way out of this, I accept my fate. The day before we fly out I start tossing clothes into a suitcase for both of us, all while rocking Lily with the other hand. I try to calm my nerves, reminding myself that the chance of seeing him is slim. I mean, what are the odds, right? But my stomach churns at the thought of it. Why now? I’ve been so careful for so long. Why does he suddenly have to be everywhere?
I take a deep breath, reminding myself that I’m a professional. This trip isn’t about me and my drama. It's about my job, one I’ve done a hundred times before. And I can do it again. But as I look down at Lily, her big green eyes staring up at me—the spitting image of the ones I desperately want to forget—I can’t help but wonder if fate is playing a cruel joke on me.
I push through the revolving door of the hotel lobby in Charlotte, already feeling the strain in my shoulders. My suitcase drags behind me, bouncing on the slick tile floor, while I juggle Lily’s diaper bag and maneuver her stroller with my other hand. She’s asleep, thankfully, her head resting against the side, oblivious to the chaos I’m pushing around. I got incredibly lucky, she was the epitome of an angel baby on the flight. Somehow, I’m able to manage my way to the check-in desk without dropping or breaking anything. By the time I’m standing there I'm breathing hard, sweat forming around my hairline. I force a smile at the receptionist, who gives me a polite nod but glances down at Lily with a hint of discomfort, like the baby will erupt at any moment.
“Checking in, Rachel Reese,” I say, my voice strained even to my own ears.
The receptionist types away at her keyboard, and I feel a prickle on the back of my neck, the sensation of eyes on me. I turn slightly, making eye contact with a few people I recognize lounging in the lobby, their gazes traveling over me. I hear some of their hushed whispers. They are unmistakable. I built my career on being the ‘takes no nonsense’ reporter, who goes toe-to-toe with anyone. And now here I am, a baby on my hip and dark circles under my eyes, looking more like a frazzled mom than a professional.
I swallow hard, pushing down the insecurity building within me. But it’s a lost cause. They’re probably wondering why I’m here with a baby, why I’m not home where I belong. Or maybe they are wondering why I’m not rinkside, busting the balls of hockey players far and wide. I’m not sure which version of gossip would hurt worse. I can almost hear their thoughts, imagining the gossip that will circulate—Rachel Reese, fierce and fearless, now barely juggling motherhood and a career.
I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment, even though I know I shouldn’t care. The choices that I’ve made to date have led me to this point and I don’t regret them. I will never regret them, but I did choose to do this myself. To take on the responsibility of motherhood alone. I glance down at Lily, still sound asleep, her little face peaceful, the sight of her reinforcing my fortitude. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus, to push through the discomfort. To fuck all the haters.
“Here’s your key, Ms. Reese,” the receptionist says, sliding the card across the counter with a genuine smile. “We have you in a room with a crib, as requested.”
“Thank you,” I say, trying to muster a smile, but I can feel my lips trembling slightly. I scoop up the room key and turn to navigate through the lobby, eyes still on me, whispers continuing in my wake.
Sure, I feel every ounce of the scrutiny, but I refuse to let it break me. I’ve faced tougher crowds and I’m here for a reason. The only reason I'm here is to do my job, not to prove that I can balance this life. That fact that it feels impossible is only for me. No one else needs to know how hard it feels right now.
I don’t feel like the untouchable reporter everyone expects. I’m just… I don’t know what. A mom with a baby and a suitcase. A struggling reporter. There is a distinct possibility that I will never be that version of myself that I once was again.
The bags under my eyes, the frazzled hair, the weight of the luggage slung over my shoulder bogging me down are unmistakable. I barely recognize the woman I am now. There’s a part of me that still craves the idea of being the badass reporter I used to be—the one who commanded respect, who could hold her own in any room. Now, I’m also this exhausted, unsure woman trying to balance everything without losing myself completely. Or maybe I’ve already lost myself, and now I have to find my way back. I feel like I don’t belong here anymore, an imposter among these people who only know the old me. I try to remind myself that I’m still that same, still fierce and capable, but right now, I feel like I’m caught between two worlds—neither of which feel fully mine anymore.