Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
The summer after their clandestine season stretched hot and humid over Pittsburgh.
Cassie and Luke maintained their careful balance—she wrote stories about the Renegades’ newest signings, and Luke, now back in town to prepare for training camp, spent mornings skating at the practice rink and evenings cooking dinner for her in his Strip District loft.
Their secret was still safe. The rest of the city saw only a hardworking journalist and a defenseman trying to live up to his contract.
In early September, news broke that the new Women’s National Hockey League was awarding an expansion franchise to Pittsburgh in the next year.
The announcement sent the city buzzing. Social media lit up with excitement about finally having a pro women’s team to cheer for.
Cassie covered the press conference, writing about the ownership group and the historic significance of the league’s growth.
At the end of the Q&A, a broadcasting executive from a regional network pulled her aside.
“Cassie,” he said, shaking her hand. “We’re going to televise the women’s games. We need someone who knows the sport inside and out but can also connect with viewers. Have you ever thought about stepping into the booth as a color commentator?”
The question sent a jolt through her. She had always been a writer.
The cadence of typing, the thrill of chasing quotes, the satisfaction of a well-turned lede were her heartbeat.
She’d never imagined calling games on live television.
“I haven’t,” she admitted, looking at the ice where the new team would practice. “I love writing.”
“Think about it,” he urged. “You know this market. You know the athletes. You could help elevate the women’s game.”
That night, she told Luke about the offer while they prepared dinner.
He stood at the stove stirring marinara, his long hair tucked behind his ears.
She leaned against the counter, small compared to his broad frame, chopping basil.
“They want me to be the color commentator for the women’s team,” she said, watching his reaction.
He turned, surprise written across his features.
“You’d be amazing,” he said immediately.
“You’ve been covering hockey for years. You know the nuances.
And it’s a chance to help build something new.
” He reached out with his free hand and brushed a stray hair from her face.
She had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes, the foot of height between them always closing when he leaned down.
“But what about the beat?” he asked. “You’ve worked so hard. ”
Cassie chewed her lip. “That’s just it. I love the beat.
I love the routine, the travel, even the bad coffee.
And the Renegades are in a transition year.
I want to see where they go.” She paused.
“But I also know that opportunities like this don’t come around often, and women’s sports deserve voices that care. ”
They spent days talking it through. Cassie made lists.
She called mentors. She spoke with former athletes who had transitioned into broadcasting.
Stan, her editor, told her that he would miss her on the beat but would support her if she chose to leave.
“This sounds like a dream job,” he said.
“And it’s still storytelling, just in a different format.
” Meanwhile, the network continued to court her, offering to let her keep writing features on off-days.
Cassie began to imagine herself in a broadcast booth with a headset, describing plays, analyzing line changes, and interviewing players on the bench between periods.
Luke listened to every pro and con. He never once pressured her.
He did, however, bring up one more factor late one night as they lay in bed, his arm around her, her head tucked under his chin.
“If you take the job,” he whispered, “we won’t have to keep us a secret anymore.
You won’t be writing about me.” Cassie’s stomach flipped.
The idea of going public—of not having to hide texts or take different elevators—felt both liberating and terrifying.
The week before training camp opened, Cassie still hadn’t decided.
She accepted an invitation to sit in on a preseason women’s game in Boston broadcast to shadow some of the women’s league’s current commentators.
The experience was exhilarating. She loved the pace of live analysis, the camaraderie with the play-by-play announcer.
She also missed the smell of the locker room and the satisfaction of crafting a gamer on deadline.
She decided to wait. She would see how the upcoming season unfolded before making a call.