Cheyenne
I hate to admit there’s a small part of me that wonders if I’ll actually hear from Kia. Sure, she was sweet enough last night when we were introduced, but does that really mean anything?
From my experience, people are always nice to your face. It’s all hugs and air kisses until you turn your back and they stab you in it.
So it’s a surprise when my phone buzzes.
Kia: Hey!
If you’re ready to go, I’ll drive. Meet me in the garage.
I don’t realize I’m smiling until I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror.
After grabbing my bag from the dresser, I head for the elevator. Without Knox beside me, the ride down feels quieter and far less charged. Still, I’m oddly aware that I’m living in his building, becoming a part of his world in a way I hadn’t expected when I boarded a plane bound for Chicago.
The garage smells faintly of concrete and oil as I step inside and glance around. Kia waves to me from beside a black Escalade.
“Ready to go?” she asks.
“Yup.” I smile, beelining toward her. “Thanks for letting me tag along. I really appreciate it.”
“It’s no problem. I’m glad to have the company. My soon-to-be sister-in-law is going to meet us and one of her friends. They’re also attending the Railers event, so you’ll get a chance to meet them ahead of time.”
I force a smile, a little disappointed this turned into a group activity. “Sounds fun.”
She nods as we settle into the Escalade before starting the engine. “Don’t worry, it will be.”
There’s something about the breezy way she says it that makes me almost believe her.
“Knox mentioned your sister is married to his brother,” she says, pulling onto the busy street and navigating morning traffic.
“Yes, for about six years now.”
She glances over briefly. “Actually, my older brother, Hayes, is friends with Colby. They played on the Wildcats hockey team together. He was there when they got married in Vegas.”
“Apparently, it was one of those woke-up-married-the-next-morning kind of nights,” I say with a laugh. “Two kiddos later with another on the way and they’re still going strong.”
“Relationship goals,” she says with a smile.
I nod. “They really are.”
I’m thrilled my sister found her happily ever after.
It just makes me wonder if I’ll get one of my own.
Or if I’ve spent so long in front of the cameras with semi-scripted storylines and everyone else’s expectations that I wouldn’t even know what the real thing looked like if it showed up in front of me.
It’s a disturbing thought.
The boutique Kia takes me to is just off the Magnificent Mile. It’s all sparkling glass and understated elegance. There aren’t any obnoxious logos, velvet ropes, or security barring the entrance. Just tall windows, dark wood floors, and muted lighting that makes everything inside glow.
Mannequins are spaced deliberately, dressed in pieces that feel less like trends and more like statements with silk, satin, clean lines, and eye-catching colors.
Inside, it’s quiet in a way that feels intentional. Plush rugs muffle our steps as subtle music hums in the background. Racks of stunning dresses are arranged by color instead of size, each piece looking expensive without announcing it.
It’s the kind of place where no one rushes you or looks twice even if you’re a recognizable face.
In LA, stores like this always come with expectations.
The salespeople are haughty or fake-sweet, depending on how much your charge card can handle.
Stylists hover. Assistants carry armfuls of curated options no one asked for, offering compliments that feel more like strategy.
And for me at least, there was always this sense that shopping wasn’t really about what I wanted.
It was about image. Content. Labels. What would photograph best and get talked about the most.
Even though I’ve only just stepped through the door, this boutique already feels different.
Kia waves to the woman behind the counter. “Hi, Melissa. This is Cheyenne. She needs a dress for the event on Saturday.”
That’s it. I’m not introduced as that reality star from the show everyone loves to hate on or Britt Benson’s sister.
Just Cheyenne.
It shouldn’t matter, but it does.
We browse for a while. The racks are filled with jewel tones and sleek silhouettes.
I run my fingers over the fabrics, feeling slightly out of my depth without a stylist waiting nearby.
And yet, it’s unexpectedly freeing. I can choose what I want, and no one is going to nudge me in a different direction.
The bell over the door jingles and two women breeze in.
“Tell me we’re not late,” the blonde says.
Kia grins. “Nope, right on time.”
She hugs Kia before turning to me with a friendly smile. “Hi, you must be Cheyenne. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Lilah.” She points to a brunette. “And that’s Rina.”
I glance between them. “It’s nice to meet both of you.”
Lilah is all warmth, bright eyes, and easy friendliness.
Rina is sharper, although not standoffish. Just observant in a way that makes me feel like she notices everything and files it away for later. She studies me for a second longer, as if trying to take me in. I can’t help but brace, wondering what she sees.
“Okay. I get it now,” she says with a smirk.
“Get what?” I ask, thrown off by the comment.
“One of the team owners mentioned that Knox was playing like a man possessed at practice. And I’m pretty sure I’m staring at the reason for it.”
Heat creeps up my neck, and I shake my head with a forced laugh. “I doubt that had anything to do with me.”
The idea that Rina could be right sends a shiver racing down my spine.
Lilah chuckles before elbowing her friend. “Ignore her, please.”
“I’m not wrong,” Rina says matter-of-factly.
The conversation thankfully ends there as Lilah pulls a dress from the rack and hands it to me. “This is gorgeous. You definitely need to try this one. With your coloring, it would be perfect.”
It’s a deep emerald-green silk that’s both chic and elegant. Maybe a little bolder than what I would’ve chosen on my own.
“Agreed. That definitely has your name written all over it,” Kia adds.
“I don’t know,” I hedge. “It’s a little—”
“Perfect,” Rina interrupts. “Go try it on. You can thank us later.”
With a huffed out laugh, I retreat to the dressing room before I can think better of it. The fabric glides over my skin, skimming my curves without clinging, the neckline dipping just enough to reveal a hint of cleavage.
When I finally step out, all three women stare in silence.
Kia’s eyes widen. “Wow.”
Lilah presses a hand to her chest. “Okay, you look amazing.”
A slow smile curves Rina’s lips. “Knox isn’t going to know what hit him.”
My pulse stutters. “You really think so?”
“Yes,” all three say in unison.
I turn toward the mirror and study my reflection. For a moment, I don’t see the woman from the reality show. The one who wears heavy makeup under bright lights.
I just see me.
“You’re going to buy it, right?” Kia asks. “You really do look stunning.”
I stare in the mirror for a moment longer. “Yeah, I think I am.”
“You won’t be sorry,” Lilah adds. “It’s the perfect choice.”
I meet Kia’s gaze. “What about you?”
That’s when I realize none of them have pulled gowns.
“We’ll try on dresses at the next store,” Lilah says.
I raise a brow. “The next store?”
“Yeah, there’s a maternity shop down the street,” Kia adds.
I turn toward them in surprise. “All three of you are pregnant?”
Color blooms in Lilah’s cheeks. “Yup.”
“Wow.” I pause. “Is there something in the water I need to know about? Or should I just not drink it at all?”
“Railers players are dangerous,” Rina throws in dryly. “That’s what you need to know.”
Lilah’s hand settles on her stomach. “Truth.”
My phone buzzes from the velvet chair next to Rina. I gravitate in that direction before picking it up and staring at the gossip alert that flashes across the screen.
Sharon Benson announces new spin-off show for daughter, Cheyenne. Read all the juicy details here!
My stomach knots until it becomes painful.
Even here, in a quiet Chicago boutique with women who don’t want anything from me, the machine still finds a way to reach in and remind me that my life isn’t entirely my own. I swipe the notification away before any of them catch sight of it.
“Hey, are you okay?” Kia asks.
I force a smile. “Yeah. Just work stuff. No big deal.”
It’s a relief when no one pushes, asks invasive questions, or tries to pry the story out of me. They just let it go. And somehow, that nearly undoes me more than if they had.
Fifteen minutes later, I buy the green dress along with a backup option, because apparently that’s what you do when you shop with women who want to make sure you feel confident.
After browsing a few more stores, Kia suggests stopping for coffee.
“Let’s head over to Lakeshore Sweets,” she says. “You can meet Callie and Sloane.”
As soon as we step foot inside the bakery, a warm, sugary scent wraps around me. A pretty woman stands behind the glass display case, flour dusting her apron, blonde hair pulled into a messy bun. A bright smile lights up her face when she spots us.
“You must be Cheyenne,” she says, stepping around the counter and pulling me into a hug.
I freeze for half a second before returning the embrace.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” she says, drawing away just enough to meet my gaze.
“Same.”
A petite, dark-haired woman appears from a swinging door in the back as she wipes her hands on a towel. She gives me a cool once-over before nodding.
“Congrats,” she says. “Looks like you survived the shopping excursion with these three.”
I can’t help but laugh as the tight knot between my shoulder blades loosens.
That constant need to brace for judgment, snark, or hidden motives eases just a little.
They ask about my plans while I’m in Chicago before the conversation turns to the gala on Saturday.
As we sit with our drinks and pastries, Lilah asks, “So, are you ready for your first official Railers event?”
“I feel like I should say yes, but I honestly don’t know what to expect.” As many openings as I’ve attended, this feels different.
“All I have to say is that the guys better be on their best behavior, or they’ll answer to me,” Rina cuts in without hesitation.
Callie smiles over the rim of her coffee cup. “I’m sure they will be.”
“Please. If the team is there,” Sloane says dryly, “then it’s just a bunch of Neanderthals in fancier clothes.”
A smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it.
Lilah laughs. “Okay, that’s fair. But it’ll be fun too. There are usually appetizers, drinks, some auction items, and the guys roam around, being their charming selves.”
“Um, they think they’re charming,” Rina corrects.
“Oh, they can be pretty charming,” Kia says.
Sloane snorts. “You only say that because you’re sleeping with one of them.”
Kia chuckles into her tea. “I’m not the only one.”
Rina and Lilah clink the rims of their mugs together with a grin.
“I’m more interested in the ongoing saga of hot Hugh and Evelyn. I need my fix, and I’m hoping to get it this weekend,” Sloane adds.
With a raised brow, I sip my cappuccino. “I’m sorry, did you just say hot Hugh?”
Callie smiles. “She means Hugh Landry. One of the Railers owners.”
“And Evelyn Kingston is the other,” Lilah adds before leaning forward a little. “They have history.”
“Ancient history,” Rina adds. “The kind with loaded stares and enough unresolved tension to power the whole city.”
I blink. “Seriously?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Kia says. “You can feel their intensity every time they’re in the room together. Get too close and you’ll lose your eyebrows.”
Sloane tears off a piece of muffin. “Watching those two circle each other is almost better than the murder podcasts I’m addicted to.”
I laugh, surprised by how easy it comes. “Almost?”
“Well, I do love a good murder plot,” she says with a smirk. “I figure that one of these days, they’re either going to do us all a favor and get it on or Evelyn will finally take out Hugh, and I’m dying to know how she’ll do it. I can certainly give her a few pointers if she needs them.”
Kia nearly spits out her tea.
Rina’s shoulders shake. “Girl, you really need to get out more. You’re actually starting to scare me.”
Sloane grins before shrugging. “Am I wrong?”
“No, you’re not,” Rina admits. “The eye contact alone is enough to make me hot and bothered.”
“Not to mention, weirdly invested,” Lilah adds.
Kia nods. “Extremely invested.”
I glance between them with amusement. “So everyone just knows about this?”
“Knows?” Rina echoes. “Please. Half the fun of those events is pretending not to watch them while absolutely watching them.”
That pulls another chuckle from me.
Callie smiles. “You’ll be fine on Saturday. Just stick close to us if you need a break from the testosterone overload.”
“Or from Knox,” Rina adds blandly.
Heat creeps into my cheeks. “Pretty sure I can handle Knox.”
Sloane pins me with a look over the rim of her coffee cup. “It’s adorable that you think so.”
Lilah snorts and reaches for another blueberry muffin. “She’s impossible before caffeine. Don’t take it personally.”
“I’m just saying,” Sloane adds. “Men like him always look more lethal in a tux.”
Rina’s lips twitch. “That’s one hundred percent true.”
I shake my head, laughing again, grateful for how easily they’ve made space for me.
On the drive back to the building, the skyline stretches across the horizon.
In LA, I have everything. Or at least the version of everything people think I want. The show. Exposure. A platform. The polished illusion of a high-profile life.
Here, I have coffee at a bakery with women who seem to mean it when they tell me I look beautiful. And a man who’s turning out to be different from the one I thought he was.
I came to Chicago to hide.
What I didn’t expect was to feel like I belonged.