Page 17 of Tight End
Somehow, I forced myself to my feet. I tucked the test back into the box and buried it deep in my tote bag. Then I washed my hands, splashed cold water on my face, and stared at my reflection.
I looked exhausted and terrified. Because I was.
My skin was pale, and I had bags under my eyes. I couldn’t fall apart, not when I still had to smile into a camera. So I grabbed the makeup kit from my bag and touched up my face.
I forced myself back into reporter mode the moment I stepped out of the bathroom. There wasn’t time for anything else. I couldn’t afford to show how much I was reeling inside.
I tightened my grip on my tote and walked toward the rink as though I hadn’t just found out I was pregnant.
The cold air inside the arena slapped my face awake. Skaters glided across the ice, blades catching the light as coaches barked instructions. Cameras lined the boards, tech crews adjusting angles and cables. The familiar chaos should’ve grounded me, but the world still felt slightly tilted.
“Morning, Marissa,” one of the camera guys called out. “You okay? You look a little pale.”
I mustered a smile. “Jet lag. Too many time zones and not enough sleep lately.”
He nodded, taking my answer at face value. Thank goodness.
The first interview went smoothly, at least from the outside. The camera light blinked red, and I did what I always did—smiled, projected warmth, and kept the focus on the skater. No one watching would know my hands were trembling just out of frame. Or that I had to swallow to fight off another wave of nausea right before asking my final question.
Between tapings, I grabbed a sip of water and half a granola bar, but it hit my stomach wrong. Hunger mixed with queasiness in a way that made my vision blur for a second. I braced a hand on the table until it passed.
“Long night?” another reporter asked.
I forced my lips into a small smile and answered, “Long few weeks.”
She nodded in understanding and turned back to her notes.
Midway through filming a feature clip, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it until the take wrapped, then stepped behind a divider and checked my screen.
Raiden
Hope the interviews go well. Crashing soon. Good night.
I wanted to text back, but I had no clue what to say. How to act like everything was normal between us when my entire world had changed…and he didn't know his had too yet.
I would tell him when I got back.
For now, I just had to make it through the day without falling apart.
7
MARISSA
By the time the wheels hit the runway at JFK, my whole body felt like it had been put through the wringer. Although I was more tired than I ever remembered being, I’d barely slept during the ten-hour flight. Even with the unexpected upgrade to first class, I just couldn’t get comfortable.
The touchdown jolted me forward in my seat, and my stomach lurched. Nausea had become a constant, unwelcome travel companion, and the turbulence only made it worse.
I closed my eyes and breathed slowly through my nose. I was finally home.
Except nothing about me felt the same as when I’d left.
The pilot’s voice filtered into the cabin as everyone stood, impatient and jostling for overhead bins. I stayed seated a moment longer, bracing both hands on the armrests until the plane door opened.
My legs wobbled when I stood. I grabbed my carry-on and walked with the crowd through the jet bridge. Every step reminded me that my body wasn’t just tired—it was different in a way no one else could see.
Baggage claim was loud and chaotic. Normally, the noise would have grounded me after a long international flight. Today, it barely reached me through the fog of exhaustion.
When I made it to the cab line, my phone pinged with a few notifications. The first was a text from the man I hadn’t been able to get off my mind.
