Page 126 of The Game Plan
We spend the next few minutes discussing the plan for the coming weeks. She’s reducing our sessions to once a week, but reminds me she’s available if I need more. Along with writing down dark thoughts, she gives me a new journal prompt and a gentle reminder: rest, breathe, and give myself grace.
Before we part for the day, she says one more thing.
“You’re not your past, Savannah. You’re no longer the scared little girl who was left behind. You’re a new woman who’s writing her new story. And that’s a story I can’t wait to read.”
My chest warms as I smile at her, wanting to believe her words. And maybe there’s a part of me that does. I’m ready to see how my new story unfolds.
When the call ends, I sit in silence for a few minutes. I used to hate the stillness, but now I don’t need a distraction. I let myself feel everything.
The front door creaks open, and I turn to find my husband pushing our daughter's stroller over the threshold. There’s my present. My future.
I rise, padding across the room and wrapping my arms around Grant. I press up onto my toes and pull him down until our lips meet.
“Good session?” he asks against my lips.
“Really good.”
And it was. For the first time, I don’t feel afraid of the unknown of my future. I know I’ll never have to face anything alone.
“Savannah Campbell.”
My name echoes throughout the stadium as chills erupt down my spine. I did it. I’m graduating from Central Texas University with a degree in social work. I never thought I’d reach this moment.
One step at a time, my feet carry me across the stage as the indoor stadium lights catch the red and powder blue tassel hanging from my cap. The roar feels like every single cheer is for the girl who didn’t quit, even when life gave me every reason to.
I shake the hand of the university president as he hands me my diploma. Rows and rows of people cheer, waving signs and snapping pictures. It’s a blur of faces until I finally spot them.
My family.
Standing with his hands cupped around his mouth, my husband lets out a celebratory cheer. He’s dressed in a polo and dress pants, with our daughter strapped to his chest in her baby carrier. Tears hit me instantly. But they’re not the only reason for the tears.
To their right are his parents, both clapping with big smiles ontheir faces. My sister-in-law is snapping photos on her phone, with her boyfriend pressed to her side. Aunt Bethany stands next to my mother-in-law, wiping her eyes with a tissue.
Ridge is beside them, hands cupped around his mouth as he cheers loudly. He’s always been my biggest supporter. Even though I’m married and have Grant, Ridge never goes long without checking in. His job keeps him busy, but he always has time for me. Well, mostly Lennon. He’s completely smitten with her. Seeing this beast of a man covered in tattoos holding my tiny daughter is adorably hilarious. Ridge tells her all of the motorized toys he plans to buy her, and I say,over my dead body. He can keep the racing to himself; my daughter will have no part of motorcycle racing, aside from cheering him on.
Then my mouth drops open, spotting my two best friends in the row behind my family. Brynn is holding a sign that reads ‘YOU’RE A BADDIE, SAVVY,’ and Chloe shouts as she films everything.
My knees wobble as I inhale sharply, grounding myself.
I finish walking across the stage with my chin held high as I smile at my family. My support system. The people who believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.
Taking my seat back in my row, I smile at the red diploma holder etched withCentral Texas Universityacross the front.
I’m so damn proud of myself. Almost a year ago, my life changed. Fear left me nearly crippled. But today, I can proudly say I am a college graduate. I’ve worked hard to achieve all the goals I set for myself in high school. I faced adversity and kept showing up, even when I wanted to hide. I glance back at the crowd, at the baby who changed everything, and the man who reminded me how to dream again. I once thought I needed a plan in life—a perfect map to achieve everything in order. But we rewrote it. We scribbled new plays in the margins, toreout pages that no longer fit, and created something messy and breathtaking. Something real.
Somehow, against all odds, we didn’t make it work, but we made it ours.
Together, we changed the game plan.
And now?
Now, it feels like I’vefinallywon.
Three Years Later
“Can you believe our girl is three?” Grant’s voice is low and full of wonder, lips brushing the shell of my ear as he snakes his arms around my waist. His chest presses against my back as he pulls me into him, the weight of his chin dropping onto my shoulder.
I lean back into his warmth, my eyes sweeping the backyard, taking in the folding tables dressed in pastel tablecloths, an arched balloon bouquet with a unicorn horn sticker out, a giant number three marquee light, and watch tiny feet carry wild children throughout our backyard, darting from the inflatable unicorn bouncer to the inflatable ball pit. Their energy never ceases to amaze me.
