Chapter Twenty-Six
Rachel stared out the window at the bustling city below. She couldn’t even have told anyone what she was thinking about. She was simply letting the city—and all that had happened there—wash through her. It was a polarizing experience, with such incredible highs and drastic lows. But she knew that anytime she came back to Philadelphia, the predominant feelings would be overwhelming regret and unutterable sadness.
“How is it possible that you have even more shit now than when you left New York?” Kellan asked as he walked back into her apartment after taking some boxes down to the small moving van she’d rented.
She shrugged, not able to put into words how she actually felt like she was leaving Philly with nothing. Yes, she had the story she went there for, but the sacrifice outweighed its value.
Kellan walked over and grabbed her shoulders so he could turn her to face him. “I need you to stop acting like a pod person. It’s freaking me the hell out, and I’m not interested in sharing my apartment with an alien.”
“It’s my apartment.”
“There she is,” he replied with a smile, though he quickly let it drop. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see. Once we get you home, and you get back into your routine, you’ll forget all about what’s-his-name.”
“Gabe,” she answered.
Kellan rolled his eyes. “I knew his name. I was trying to make a joke.”
She stared back at him blankly, letting him know the joke had missed its mark. “I hurt him. Really badly,” she said.
“I know.”
“And I can’t fix it. Because even if I don’t write the story, he’ll never forgive me anyway. So not writing it will be a waste of everything I sacrificed.”
“You trying to convince me or yourself?” he asked.
She shrugged him off. “What am I supposed to do? Seriously, I need you to tell me what to do.”
He leaned his hip against the wall. “You know what to do.”
“Stop being all Yoda-esque. I need advice. I don’t know what to do.” Her voice cracked at the end of her sentence, and tears began to fall.
Wrapping his arms around her, Kellan pulled her close. “You do know what to do. You’ve probably known for weeks. You just haven’t wanted to do it.”
She burrowed her head into his chest before the need to breathe forced her to turn her head. “I don’t want to ruin my career. I worked so hard for it.”
“Just like Gabe worked hard for his?”
Rachel pulled back quickly. “What do you mean?”
“Come on, Rach. You’re a smart girl. This was always going to destroy someone. Yeah, it’s really bad fucking karma that it happened to be the guy you liked, but you were always going to hurt somebody. You were always going to end someone’s livelihood. The only one you’ve tried to protect all this time was yourself.”
“That’s not true,” she protested.
“Of course it is. And I’m not judging you for it. I’m one of the most selfish people on the planet, so if that’s the road you want to walk down, I’ll hop in and we can carpool down that bitch. But don’t pretend like you never had a choice. You’ve been the only one with choices this entire time.”
“But this story—”
“Stop with the story, Rachel. This isn’t about a story. It’s about your life, and what you can live with and what you can’t.”
She looked back out the window, and let Kellan’s words sink in. This was about her life. What she’d dedicated herself too. The goals she’d set. The priorities she held.
Looking back at Kellan, she whispered, “I’ve got to write the story.”
“Then let’s get you home so you can get started.”
***
A week later, Rachel stood in Rick’s office as he read over the piece she’d written. When he finished, he set his glasses down, interlaced his fingers as he rested them on his belly, and looked up at her. “You’re sure you want to go ahead with this?”
Rachel had needed to give him at least a vague rundown about what had led her to this story. If there was any backlash about any unethical behavior on her part, she wanted the magazine to be prepared to handle it. Not that she thought Gabe would make a complaint against her. Maybe it was more that it felt like a confession. No absolution could be granted, but there was still peace in the telling. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
“Okay. You got it in just in time for it to go in the June publication.”
Rachel nodded.
Rick shuffled some things around on his desk. “Your request for leave was granted. Any idea when you’ll be ready to come back?”
“I figured I’d see how the story was received and evaluate my options then.”
Rick took a deep breath. “Well, we’ll miss you around here.”
Rachel laughed. “I haven’t stepped foot in this office in months. It’ll be business as usual for you guys.”
Rick returned her smile. “I guess that’s true. In that case, get the hell out of here. The rest of us have work to do.”
Rolling her eyes with a chuckle, Rachel extended her hand. “Thank you, Rick. For everything.”
Rick stood and grasped her hand. “My pleasure. I hope the next couple of months lead you to wherever you need to be.”
“Me too.” She gave his hand one final shake before leaving his office. She looked around at all the chaos in the room: the bustling of reporters, the ringing of phones, the streaming of press conferences. She knew she’d miss it over the following months, but she also knew this time was important to her for a number of reasons.
The story about Gabe’s club had taken a lot out of her, both in the investigating and in the actual writing. And what she’d put together could cause a fair bit of backlash. It was best that she give herself time to mentally and emotionally recover before she found herself thrust into whatever maelstrom this story may create.
Rachel left the building, putting on her sunglasses as she stepped out into the bright May afternoon. The sunshine felt good as it warmed her face. She let herself bask in it for a moment before she got caught up in the throng of New Yorkers rushing from place to place.
She found solace in the fact that she wouldn’t have to rush anything for a little while. For once, she’d stop being on the chase and let come what may.