Page 8 of Stick With Me
“We’re all very proud of you, Ryan,” Greg says.
“Thanks. It’s an honor just to be considered good enough to stand among those guys. Just wanted to share the news, but I have to get going. I’ll call soon, okay?”
“Yes, please, don’t be a stranger. Love you,” my mom says, followed by similar send-offs from Greg and Mia.
An incoming call stretches my grin to its limits, but her returning smile isn’t real—it’s that impostor smile she’s been wearing recently, even before the breakup. My face pinches with concern, guilt gnawing at me. I should’ve seen something was wrong. “Hannah, you know you can talk to me, right? Whatever you need, I’m here.”
She spaces out before responding. “I know, Ry. Thank you.” She looks like she wants to say more, but she’s holding back.
Hoping to cheer her up, I jump in with my good news. As expected, she reacts with even more enthusiasm than my family, her real smile finally breaking through and lighting up her face.
“That’s amazing! Despite your doubts, I always knew it would happen. Haven’t you learned by now that I’m always right?” She tries to wink but ends up scrunching up one side of her face, not quite managing it. I chuckle, and she scowls at me, a look that is about as threatening as a kitten. “You don’t think it’s getting better? I’ve been working on it in the mirror.”
“You’ve been winking at yourself in the mirror?”
She waves me off, like I’m the ridiculous one. “Will I still get to see you when you’re in town?”
“Yeah, we’ll find time,” I assure her. The weekend’s packed, with events spanning three days—a draft, skills competition, media, and finally games on the last day—but we’ll make it work.
“I’m actually scheduled to cover the event.” She sighs. “I’ve been trying to get out of the contract, but I’m not holding my breath. At least you’ll be there and I’ll get to cheer you on.”
“Aw, my favorite cheerleader,” I joke.
She rolls her eyes but laughs. “It was a phase. It’s not like I tried out to be a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader or anything. I know my skills don’t lie in dance… or coordination.”
This is true, though she did look really fucking good in the outfit. I chew on my bottom lip, holding back the words, something I’m well practiced at.
I clear my throat. “So, how’s home? Good family meeting?”
“Ugh, the worst.” She rolls her eyes before taking a deep breath, her voice shifting into a mocking tone. “‘Hannah, what’s going on? Why would he do that? What did you do? Hannah, dear, you must’ve done something. Why don’t you call him, talk to him? I’m sure there’s a solution.’” She sighs heavily. “It was awful. My mother didn’t stop until she ran out of breath several hours later.”
“I’m sorry,” I offer, not sure what the right words are. I’ve never had to deal with meddling parents.
“I’m reminded why I don’t visit my parents often. I love them, but they drive me nuts. Really, it’s my mother. My dad has been less vocal with his disapproval, if he has any. Be thankful you’re not an only child.”
I don’t correct her that, technically, I am. I know what she means. Mia and I grew up together, and even though we aren’t biologically related, we’ve always considered each other siblings.
“Sorry, I totally ruined the mood. I have a feeling I’ll be doing a lot of that…” She trails off before refocusing. “Anyway, I’m really happy for you, and I can’t wait to see you next week.”
“I can’t wait either.”
Despite what she thinks, no matter her mood, there’s nothing she can do to ruin mine if I’m with her.
THREE
My breath comesin 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.
