Page 39 of Ice Melts

The hours ticked by painfully slow. Sarah kept her head down, working through her usual tasks, but her mind was spinning. She’d sent two articles to Jess that morning.

The first was the one Jess had expected—another hard-hitting exposé on hockey players, complete with anonymous sources, rumored parties, and just enough scandal to keep the readers hooked.

But the second…

The second was different.

It was about the humanity behind the sport. About the players who volunteered at community centers, the ones who mentored kids, the ones who struggled but tried—really tried—to be better. It was about the good that never got reported.

It was about Travis.

His heart, his spirit, his integrity—it was all there in every word.

And now, she was waiting.

Would Jess even consider running it? Or would she laugh in Sarah’s face and demand the original hit piece?

Sarah didn’t know. But she knew one thing for sure—she couldn’t keep doing this. Not after last week. Not after Travis.

She glanced at the clock. It had been nearly four hours since she’d sent the stories. The tension was suffocating, every tick of the second hand a reminder that her entire career could shift with a single decision.

And then, finally?—

“Cooper!”

Jess’s voice rang out across the newsroom.

Sarah stood, smoothing her blouse and walking toward the office with as much calm as she could muster. But inside? Her stomach was in knots.

Jess’s office was cold and sleek, all sharp lines and polished surfaces. Sarah stepped inside, and Jess didn’t bother offering her a seat.

For a moment, Jess said nothing, just stared at her from behind the massive glass desk. Then she picked up one of the articles—the second one—and held it between two fingers like it was some kind of delicate artifact.

“This,” Jess said, her voice low, “is not what I expected from you.”

Sarah’s heart sank, but she kept her expression neutral. “I figured it wasn’t.”

Jess set the paper down, tapping it with her manicured nails. “But it’s good. Really good.”

Sarah blinked. “What?”

Jess smirked. “You’ve got a new angle here. A different one. And it works. The readers will love it.”

For a moment, Sarah felt the tension drain from her shoulders, replaced by a quiet sense of relief and pride.

But then she remembered why she was here.

She straightened her spine, meeting Jess’s gaze. “I’m glad you liked it.” She took a breath. “But I’m giving my two weeks’ notice.”

Jess’s smile froze. “Excuse me?”

Sarah’s heart pounded, but her voice stayed steady. “I’m leaving. I’ve got an offer to work with a nonprofit publication. They focus on human interest stories, community work. It’s… it’s where I want to be.”

For a long moment, Jess just stared at her, as if trying to decide if this was some kind of joke. Then she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms.

“Well,” she said finally, her voice cool and measured, “I can’t say I’m surprised. You’ve been softening up lately. Losing that edge.”

Sarah smiled, but it wasn’t defensive—it was confident. “Maybe. But I think I’ve found something better.”

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