Page 6 of Breakaway Daddies

Just as I’m about to slip my phone back into my pocket, a notification flashes on the screen, catching my attention. I halt mid-step, my heart skipping a beat.

Oh, great.

It’s an email from one of the colleges I applied to, inquiring if I’m still interested in their accelerated sports medicine program. An uneasy knot forms in my stomach.

I should be thrilled, right? But a wave of conflict washes over me instead.

I release a slow breath through my nose, exiting the email and locking my phone with a decisive click. This decision has been a constant presence in my thoughts for months, swirling around in an endless loop, and still, clarity eludes me.

Do I truly want to leave the team? Do I even want to be a physical therapist anymore?

I don’t know. And that uncertainty gnaws at me, the most unsettling part of all.

Perhaps a new career isn’t the solution; perhaps I just need a fresh adventure. A new festival, a new experience—anything to shake things up.

I vividly recall the last music festival I attended, the way it electrified me. The lights throbbed in sync with the beat, casting vibrant colors across the crowd, while the music was a magnetic force pulling everyone into its orbit.

The throng of people swayed together, a single, immense entity, bodies shimmering with neon and glitter, completely absorbed in the rhythm.

It was a heady, intoxicating experience—and not a single drop of alcohol passed my lips.

Maybe that’s what I need once more.

I slide the phone into my pocket and navigate the bustling corridor toward the exit. Just as I round a corner, I nearly collide with a solid wall of muscle that is Rowan.

“Whoa there, Jinx,” he says with a steadying hand on my arm, his voice a low, warm tease that matches the glisten in his eyes. “Where’s the fire?”

Despite the grin I feel crossing my face, I step back to create some distance and cross my arms defensively. “Not heading your way, that’s for sure.”

He snickers, his smile as easy and confident as ever, a signature expression that never falters. “Ouch, that hurts.”

A snort escapes me. “You’ll survive.”

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You sure you don’t want to grab a drink? Could be fun. You, me… maybe some darts? I bet I’d win.”

I scoff. “You’d lose terribly, and you know it.”

His smile widens, a challenge dancing in his eyes. “There’s only one way to find out.”

I shake my head, though I’m fighting to suppress a smile. “Keep dreaming, cowboy.”

He laughs and raises his hands in playful surrender. “Alright, alright. But one of these days, Jinx, you’ll say yes.”

I roll my eyes. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

As I turn away from Rowan, I can feel his gaze like a gentle pressure on my back. I take a few steps down the hallway, before, on an impulse, I glance over my shoulder.

Seriously?

Rowan stands there, his eyes locked on my backside with no attempt at subtlety. I arch an eyebrow in response, but instead of calling him out, I just let a sly smile play on my lips.

He catches my eye, and rather than looking sheepish, he grins and throws me a casual wink.

I shake my head, letting a loose light laugh as I push through the heavy metal doors and head into the cool, autumn evening air outside.

When I finally arrive home, the familiar symphony of my pets’ anticipation greets me. The sound of my key turning in the lock is like a dinner bell for them.

Gremlin, my iguana, lifts his scaly head from the comfort of his heated rock, his eyes half-lidded with sleepy interest. The snakes in their enclosures begin to slither lazily, their bodies unwinding from their resting coils.

---