Chapter 3
THREE
My breath comes in shallow pants, and my legs feel like Jell-O. Is my heart supposed to feel like it’s about to pound out of my chest? Running is for the birds. On second thought, birds don’t run. I shake my head, swiping away the hair stuck to my lips.
Sand kicks up and settles in the back of my sneakers, rubbing against my heels. Still, I keep pumping my legs. Why did I ever think this was a good idea? Oh, right. The revenge body. Though now I’m questioning if it’s even worth it.
I glance down at my Apple Watch—nine minutes. Nine minutes?! My legs come to an abrupt stop as I double over, a huff of laughter escaping. I’m more out of shape than I thought. With my hands on my knees, I catch a glimpse of my stomach, the skin pressing against the waistband of my leggings. Jace’s voice echoes in my mind, along with the image of his hand pinching my skin. “What’s this?” he asked.
I’d never been self-conscious about my body until that day this past summer. I wasn’t thin, but I always liked my curves. Maybe I’d gained a couple of pounds over the years, but it wasn’t anything drastic—I was still the same size ten I’d been since hitting puberty. Sure, my jeans were a little snug after all the post-engagement celebrations and extra glasses of prosecco, but I hadn’t given it much thought. Not until Jace’s comment.
Screw him. I plop down in the sand, staring out at the ocean as the waves crash against the shore, the salty air a familiar comfort I missed while living in Dallas. I grab a handful of sand and let it slip through my fingers, wishing everything I’ve held on to for so long was as easy to let go of. If only it were that simple.
I take my phone out and snap a picture of my view, trying to capture the shades of blue from the sky bleeding into the ocean. I stare at the simple photo for far too long, trying to remember the last time I captured a moment, not to share with the world, but only for me. I flip back through my camera roll in search, but I’m met with game photos, brand partnership pics, and carefully curated selfies. My thumb starts to get tired before I come across one I didn’t post on social media.
I’m not sure what this next chapter holds, but I know I’m going to live it for me, not the approval of an audience or a partner. I take a calming breath before opening my email, eager to find out if I can make a clean break from my influencer career now or after All-Star Weekend.
On the three-hour flight from Dallas to Florida, I may have gone a bit overboard trying to back out of my influencer obligations. Initially, I agreed to be part of the All-Star event because I wanted to support Jace. But now, after the breakup, running into him is the last thing I want.
There’s a response from the event’s media coordinator, denying my request to cancel our contract. I slump back into the sand but remind myself: Ryan will be there, and it’s the last tie to my old life. After this weekend, I’ll be free to explore new opportunities, a new career… and it won’t be chosen for me by my ex. Will I ever have a thought that doesn’t somehow circle back to him?
I turned down the full college experience to follow Jace when he was drafted. I knew it wasn’t the right move for me, but I caved under the pressure. My mom’s voice still echoes in my head: Hannah, what will happen if you’re not there? You know how those fangirls are. He’s going to have so much attention. You don’t want him to forget about you.
Eventually, her voice started to sound like my own. I convinced myself that uprooting my life for him was a good choice. That his career was more important than mine. At first, I reasoned that I was still finishing school; it would just be online. But with every decision after that, my logic got shakier.
It’s not the right time. I could’ve had that motto tattooed on my skin, that’s how deeply I’d convinced myself it was true. Not the right time… not for the internship I wanted, not for launching the dog rescue, not even for visiting my friends. What was I thinking? It never would’ve been the right time.
I won’t make that same mistake.
Couldn’t even enjoy my nine-minute runner’s high before my daily mental breakdown kicked in.
My phone vibrates in my hand, snapping me out of my thoughts. I tap my earbuds to accept the call. “Hey, Natalie. How was work?”
“No patients died, so I’d say it was a success,” she jokes, but I know how seriously she takes her job and how much fulfillment she gets from it. She’s built a career I envy—not because I want to be a nurse, but because she’s found her purpose. She’s created a life she loves, and it’s truly hers. I want that, too.
“But for real, how’re you feeling? Still angry? If I were you, I’d burn the whole building down. I fully embrace the fiery redhead stereotype. I mean, the audacity of that man!” She pauses, then adds teasingly, “Are you still on track to be over him in less than a week?”
“I’m rethinking my previous statement. I’ve moved past anger and onto… self-reflection? Is that a stage?”
“I’m not sure.” She’s the queen of not getting attached, so she has no real breakup experience to draw from. “I think so, though. It sounds right. Did he at least let you keep the ring?”
I let out a huff of annoyance. “No, of course not. When I landed in Florida and saw a message from him, I thought maybe he was contacting me to apologize. Maybe he’d had the world’s fastest revelation and realized he was making a mistake… Want to know what it said?” I pull up the message thread I can’t bring myself to delete and read aloud, “I forgot to ask for the ring back. Do you think you can priority mail it to me? Or I can grab it from you when I’m in Florida.”
There’s a pause on the line before Natalie speaks. “You’re kidding? Did you send it back to him?”
I glance down at the emerald-cut diamond still on my finger. I don’t even like the thing. For years, I dropped hints about how much I loved the old-world charm of a cushion cut, even suggesting a vintage ring. I always liked the idea of carrying on another couple’s love story. But he went with a modern cut and design. Still, every time I try to take it off, I hesitate. But I only tell Natalie, “Not yet, but I will.”
“It’s all going to work out, Han. I know it will. It doesn’t feel like it now, but one day, you’ll look back and see this was the best thing that could’ve happened.”
It’s hard to believe that right now. I’m not as sold on the whole “everything happens for a reason” philosophy she swears by. “I hope you’re right, and I hope that day comes sooner than later. Distract me. What’s your newest Grey’s Anatomy -esque drama?”
“You’ll be happy to hear I’m not involved in any of it, but,” she says, drawing out the word, “remember that doctor I went out with the last time I was at this hospital?”
“The cardiologist?”
“The one and only! He’s been dating two nurses, on different floors, and they found out about one another. There was a full-blown confrontation in the cafeteria the other day. It’s all people are talking about.”
“I thought you said it didn’t involve you?” I ask with a laugh.
“Pfft. It doesn’t. I went out with the guy one time, like a year ago. It barely counts. Enough about me; tell me about Florida. Do you need rescuing from your mom yet?”
She knows all too well how my mom and I constantly butt heads—she saw it firsthand, growing up with me.
“I think I’ll survive… at least until Ryan gets here. He’ll be here in a couple days.”
“Ohhhh…” I can practically see the Cheshire Cat grin on her face.
“Please don’t start with me.” I try to sound stern, but her laughter tells me I’m not successful. I dig my feet deeper into the sand. With the three of us going to college together, Natalie knows Ryan all too well, and she never hesitates to share her theories about us. All false, may I add.
“You’re no fun. So, are you planning to stay there?”
I shake my head even though she can’t see it. “Definitely not. I’m going to go back to Chicago.”
“Chicago? As in where Ryan lives…”
“Also, where we went to college… in case you forgot.”
I imagine her eyes rolling as silence fills the line. “So, you’re moving there because it’s where we went to college?” she asks skeptically.
“Kinda. It’s the last place things felt… right. The last place I had any semblance of independence. It holds good memories. What better place to start over?”
“What’re you planning to do there? With all your independence?” she teases.
“I’m not sure yet. I’m still trying to work out my plans.”
Admitting that I don’t have it all figured out is hard, but I’m trying to give myself grace. I’m sure once I get some distance and time, I’ll work out a way to move past this and hopefully onto something better.