Chapter 3 #2
She could say goodbye to all the free swag from her sponsors now that her retirement had officially been announced. It wasn’t like she couldn’t afford to buy her own clothing, but she loved packages showing up on her doorstep, perfectly fitted to her long frame.
Her agent had been giving her space since her retirement, though she was sure that Sara was squaring away any clauses related to her not fulfilling the terms of her existing contracts: Wilson for her rackets and Nike for her clothing and footwear.
God, she hoped that Rolex let her keep the beautiful watch they’d gifted her from their Datejust collection last year, when she’d moved into the top twenty.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go?” Reese asked, pulling Sydney’s attention to the window where The Stone’s Throw’s new owner stood, still looking out at the shoreline.
Reese Devereux, a woman she’d only met once—maybe twice—before today, was now going to be a very present fixture in Sydney’s life.
And Sydney, in that moment, realized that she knew very little about Reese. What she did know had come secondhand from Grant and wasn’t exactly flattering. Which, on principle, made Sydney like Reese all the more.
Reese’s dark hair flowed in soft waves as she looked out toward the ocean, her shoulders straight.
Even at this moment, she was all business.
Sydney caught the contour of her cheeks, soft and round, that made Reese look younger than she actually was.
Even from feet away, she could see the light color splashed across those cheeks.
The new owner of The Stone’s Throw Inn, the sister of her ex-boyfriend and, if you asked Grant, Sydney’s new girlfriend.
Things were really changing, in every facet of her life. She couldn’t imagine the Thatchers not owning the inn, a place she’d spent countless days throughout her childhood.
Sydney took a deep breath, her energy starting to even out. Sometimes after a big match, it would take her hours to come back down to any sort of stasis.
“Oh my god,” Reese said, her hand lifting to her forehead so forcefully she almost slapped it. “Hallie is going to think I’ve abandoned her. That I saw ghosts and ran screaming off the cliff.”
Sydney smiled at the visual as she pulled on a pair of running shorts. “I feel pretty haunted by ghosts of the past today, so that’s not far out of left field.”
Reese groaned, and Sydney tried not to be endeared by her embarrassed smile, so different from her posturing moments ago with Grant.
From where Sydney was standing, Reese and her brother couldn’t have been more different. She could practically see Grant seething as he paced back and forth in the living room. Meanwhile, Reese was contrite, if not a little shy, as she stood in the confined space with her brother’s ex-girlfriend.
Reese’s soft, brown eyes lifted up to meet hers. “I am so sorry about that. I didn’t know he’d show up here.”
“I didn’t think you two were close.”
Reese scrunched her nose. “We’re not. My mother probably sicced him on me when she found out I was back in town.”
Sydney pulled her ponytail out of the tank top she’d just thrown on before cocking her head to the side. “So they don’t know that you bought the inn?”
She was surprised by Reese’s sheepish expression. “No. And I’m not exactly champing at the bit to tell them.”
“Why not? Seems like there’s no love lost between you and Grant. It must feel good to get the best of him,” Sydney said as she felt the flicker of exhilaration rush through her.
Reese looked back out at the choppy waves. “My relationship with my family is complicated. It always has been.”
Sydney felt lucky that she couldn’t commiserate. Her parents were her rocks. They’d been so supportive that she felt the need to flee their love to wallow in self-pity instead of meeting their well-intentioned eyes at every turn around her house in Florida.
Sydney had only talked to them once since arriving, so she made a mental note to call them soon.
Sydney cleared her throat as she sat down to put on her slim, top-of-the-line knee brace. “Thanks, by the way.”
“For what? Walking in on you naked? Bringing my brother into your bedroom? I can’t wait to see the review you leave for the inn,” Reese finished wryly.
“No.” Sydney laughed. “For letting me have a little fun at your brother’s expense.
I don’t think I realized how mad I still was about him cheating until I saw him again.
A lot of pent-up energy, ya know?” She extended her leg once the brace was snug around her knee, flexing the joint to make sure it was positioned correctly.
Clearing her throat, Reese took a step closer to where Sydney sat on the bed, a strange look on Reese’s face. “I didn’t realize he cheated.”
Of course Grant would manage to push through his infidelity with him still smelling like a dozen red roses.
“With Brynn?” Reese added. “I mean, if that’s not too intrusive of a question. I fear I’ve already spent too long with Hallie this morning.”
Sydney laughed and started putting on her sneakers. “She’s definitely a straight shooter.”
“Understatement of the year. But she’s amazing with this place.”
After she tightened her shoelaces in a ritualistic way that had morphed into her pre-run routine at some point in the fifteen years, Sydney stood up and slapped her palms against her thighs.
“Yes, with Brynn. I caught them together—came home early from a tournament to visit Grant in Boston, and I walked into some alternate universe where they weren’t just having an affair, but completely playing house.”
She appreciated how wide Reese’s eyes went. “That must have been a total mindfuck.”
Sydney nodded. “Even as I watched them from the door, moving around the kitchen as they cooked dinner together, I still couldn’t quite believe it.”
“I am the last person who wants to hear anything positive about my brother, but are you sure you didn’t misinterpret it?”
The sound out of her throat was somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “I wish. I would have gone in less ‘guns ablaze’ until I saw him lift her onto the countertop and make it very clear that this was not two friends hanging out together for the evening.”
Reese made a gagging sound, which Sydney valued immensely.
“And then about a month later, one of my opponents told me she saw on Facebook that he’d gotten engaged.” Sydney paused for emphasis. “Right before we were playing a match against one another.”
Sydney ran her hand through her ponytail, feeling surprisingly vulnerable.
Of all the people she’d ever expected to have this conversation with, Reese Devereux was not one of them.
“I’ve spent the last year wondering whether I could have been more present in our relationship.
If I was somehow emotionally absent in my quest to be successful.
If I checked out on him before he checked out on me, you know? ”
“Soul-searching is always a good thing,” Reese answered diplomatically. Sydney didn’t know her, not really, so it wasn’t a fair question for Reese to answer.
“I probably wouldn’t be so upset if I was on my way to a Grand Slam title right now, but retiring a few weeks ago has really given me time to think in a way that, to be honest, I fucking hate.
” Sydney wrapped her arms around herself, goosebumps prickling her skin in the air-conditioned room now that her adrenaline had worn off.
As she came down from her high, she just felt tired.
Reese, however, seemed like she was finally ramping up. “I didn’t know you retired. Why?” She waved her hand apologetically. “Again, sorry for the intrusive question.”
With Reese’s hands on her hips, staring intently at Sydney, she looked every bit like a formidable businessperson.
And, more than that, Sydney found herself wanting to answer.
“My fault,” she said with a shrug, pretending like it didn’t hurt as much as it did.
“I threw myself into tennis, literally and figuratively, after the breakup, and it worked until it didn’t.
I partially tore my ACL in November. At a stupid, meaningless tournament because I just couldn’t stop.
Couldn’t stop pushing. Couldn’t stop training.
Couldn’t stop trying to do anything to escape the way I was feeling.
I opted to forgo surgery and start the tour this year, but I wasn’t ready. ”
Reese glanced down at her knee. “Did you hurt yourself again?”
Sydney winced and reflexively stretched her knee.
She still had better mobility than the average person, but that was no match for the professional level at which she used to operate.
“I wish there was at least a good story. It was death by a thousand cuts—bad match after bad match. I got in my head more and more until I was basically useless. There was no way I could even qualify for the last Grand Slam tournament of the year. My coach thought it would be helpful for me to take some time. Decide what comes next.”
Reese nodded sympathetically. “I’m also going through a transitional period in my life, so I understand. I felt like a lot of what I worked for was taken away when the bottom dropped out of my life. The Stone’s Throw Inn is my chance to recapture a little bit of the feeling that I’m in control.”
This was, by a wide mile, the longest conversation she’d had with Reese, and still, she was finding that she didn’t want it to end.
“Interesting place you picked,” Sydney teased, her hand lightly touching Reese’s forearm. “Where the guests are as fickle as the weather. Have you met the ‘too many towels’ guy?”
Sydney’s stomach flip-flopped at Reese’s vibrant smile.
“I call him Mr. Cheaper by the Dozen. I had to drop twelve towels in his room earlier. What is he doing with them? I’m dying to know.”
“Hallie and I brainstormed it, but the best we could come up with is that he uses a new towel for each part of his body,” Sydney guessed.
Reese had a thoughtful look on her face. “Showers four times a day?”