Chapter 24 #2
I tossed my phone onto the couch cushion beside me. This was exactly what I’d been trying to avoid, and I’d still walked straight into it. I hadn’t even walked—I’d chosen it. I had known this exact thing would happen, and yet at the first sign of conflict, I’d flinched.
My phone buzzed again. I reached for my phone before I could stop myself.
It was a text from Dani.
I need space.
A sob ripped up my throat, but I was too exhausted to stop it.
The one thing that had felt steady that morning—the one thing that had felt certain—had been the first thing I’d let go.
I stared at the name lighting up my cell phone screen. A familiar twist of guilt settled low in my stomach. I’d missed—what—three calls from her already? Plus a handful of texts I hadn’t had the energy to respond to. It wasn’t like her not to push, and it wasn’t like me to ignore her.
The buzzing didn’t stop.
I exhaled hard through my nose and swiped to answer the call before I could talk myself out of it.
Her face filled the screen immediately—sharp eyes, dark braids pulled back, the familiar backdrop of the Phoenix studio behind her. Even through the screen, I could feel the way her attention locked in.
“What happened to not dating athletes?” Raven demanded.
I groaned, dragging a hand down my face.
“So it is real,” she pressed, leaning closer to the camera. “This isn’t just gossip-magazine hyperbole? Because, Reese, I have been defending you for the last twelve hours like my life depends on it.”
“It’s real,” I sighed.
Raven sat back in her chair like my confession had rocked her. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” I grimaced. “Wow.”
“And you weren’t going to tell me?” she asked.
I let out a breath and stared up at the ceiling like the answer might be written somewhere in the cracks. “I was going to,” I said, and even to my own ears, it sounded weak. “I just—things got complicated.”
Raven made a quiet, disbelieving sound. “Complicated,” she repeated. “You disappear for days, ignore my calls, and then I wake up to you trending because you’re apparently dating the most recognizable player in women’s hockey, and your explanation is complicated?”
I winced. “It’s bad, I know.”
“Okay.” Raven rubbed a hand over her face, like she was recalibrating.
“Okay, wait. Start from the beginning. When did this happen? Are you together? Are you not together? Because based on these headlines—” She reached off-screen for something, probably her laptop or a tablet, and squinted as she read.
“—it’s either a full-blown relationship or a career-ending scandal, and I’d really love to know which one I’m dealing with here. ”
I huffed out something that wasn’t quite a laugh. “That makes two of us.”
Her eyes snapped back up to the screen. “Reese.”
“We were—” I hesitated. “We were figuring it out. It was barely official before the internet found out.”
“And now?” she pressed.
I closed my eyes briefly. Dani’s text flashed through my mind like it had been branded there.
I need space.
My chest tightened all over again.
“And now,” I said slowly, “I think I screwed it up.”
Raven went very still. “What did you do, Reese Jessica Marlowe?”
I let out a humorless laugh. “That’s the worst part. I didn’t do anything dramatic. No big fight. No betrayal. I just—” I shook my head, searching for the right words. “I panicked.”
“Because of the headlines,” she guessed.
“Because of what they mean,” I corrected, pushing myself upright so I wasn’t just a collapsed heap on the couch.
“You know how this works. You’ve seen how this works.
It’s not just gossip—it sticks. It becomes the narrative.
Suddenly I’m not Reese Marlowe, I’m a hockey player’s girlfriend.
Every story I pitch, every interview I do—it’s all going to be filtered through that. ”
“And?” she posed.
“And I’m just getting started,” I said. “I’m building something from scratch. The last thing I need is people here thinking I’m only getting access because I’m sleeping with the team captain.”
“You really think that’s all people are going to see?” Raven challenged.
“It’s already what they’re seeing,” I shot back. “Did you read the comments?”
“Reese, the comments are a cesspool. That’s not—”
“But they’re not wrong about how this industry works,” I cut in. “Perception matters. Credibility matters. And I just handed them a reason to question both.”
Silence stretched between us.
Raven leaned forward again. “Okay,” she said finally. “I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to not give me your journalist answer. No spin. No strategic thinking. Just honesty.”
“That’s ominous.”
“Do you love her?”
I didn’t answer right away. The truth wasn’t complicated. It wasn’t tangled up in headlines or career trajectories or public perception.
It was actually very simple.
“Yes,” I said, the word quiet but solid. “I do.”
Raven nodded once, like she’d been expecting that. “Okay. Next question.”
I let out a slow breath. “There’s more?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “Big one.”
I braced myself.
“Do you think she loves you?”
Answering that question didn’t take me as long.
“Yeah,” I said, the guilt tightening on my stomach. “I know she does.”
“Then what are you doing?”
I didn’t have an answer for that. Not a good one, anyway.
“I just—I don’t want to screw this up,” I said finally. “Her or my career. And it feels like no matter what I do, something’s going to take a hit.”
Raven was quiet for a moment, studying me like she had something to say that I wasn’t going to like.
“Reese,” she said slowly, “I don’t want to burst your bubble, but you already screwed it up.”
I winced. “Jesus, thanks.”
“No, listen,” she pushed on. “Not beyond repair. But you did make a choice. You chose fear over her. Over whatever you and she could be.”
“That’s not—”
“It is,” she said, not unkindly, but firmly enough that I couldn’t dodge it. “And I get it. I do. This industry will eat you alive if you let it. But you don’t get to act like you’re protecting your career when what you’re actually doing is running from something that matters to you.”
I swallowed, the reality of her statement ringing true.
“You always told me you wanted to tell stories that mattered,” she continued. “That you were tired of playing it safe, tired of fitting yourself into whatever box the network handed you.”
“I do,” I said, feeling defensive all over again. “I am.”
“Then why are you doing that to your own life?”
I stared at the screen, at my friend who knew me well enough to cut straight through every excuse I’d been hiding behind.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
Raven nodded, like that was at least something. “Alright. That’s a start.”
She leaned back again, the intensity easing just a fraction.
“Look, I’m not saying this is simple. It’s not.
There are real world implications here, and you’re not wrong to think about them.
But if you’re making decisions based on what anonymous commenters on the internet are saying instead of what you actually want …
” She trailed off, shaking her head. “That’s not you, Reese. ”
I let out a slow breath, my gaze dropping again.
“So what are you going to do about it?” she pressed.
I thought about Dani’s face in the kitchen that morning. The adoring way she’d looked at me while she’d made us breakfast. And then I thought about the text message sitting unanswered on my phone.
I need space.
“I don’t know yet,” I said honestly. “But I think—no—I know that I need to stop pretending this is just about my career.”
Raven hummed softly. “That sounds promising.”
“Don’t get too excited,” I muttered.
“Too late. I’m already invested.”
I huffed out a small laugh, the tension in my chest easing just enough to breathe again.
“Hey,” she added, her tone shifting again—lighter, but still carrying an edge of seriousness. “For what it’s worth? I’m glad it’s her.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “You are?”
“Yeah,” she said simply. “Anyone who gets you this twisted after all these years? That’s not nothing.”
I shook my head, a faint smile tugging at my mouth despite everything. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Mmhm. And yet, here I am, still your best friend.”
“Debatable,” I snorted.
“Rude,” she shot back. “Anyway—call me later. And by later, I mean don’t disappear for another month.”
“I won’t,” I promised.
“Good.” Raven pointed at the screen like she was making a threat. “Now go fix your life.”