“It’s true.” The emptiness in my chest feels bottomless. “Look at him, Cass. He’s eighteen, he’s gorgeous, he’s going to be famous. And I’m Leo’s scrawny little sister with braces who makes friendship bracelets.”
“Stop it.” Her voice is firm now, the way it gets when she’s about to lecture me. “You’re beautiful, you’re smart, and any boy would be lucky?—”
“Then why didn’t he come?” The question bursts out of me, desperate and broken. “If I’m so great, why am I sitting here feeling like the biggest fool on the island?”
She doesn’t have an answer for that. Neither do I.
I curl up on my side, facing the wall, while she pulls a blanket over both of us. The room is dark except for the glow of her alarm clock. 12:47 a.m. He’s definitely not coming now.
“Maybe tomorrow will feel different,” she whispers.
But I know it won’t. Tomorrow he leaves for Boston, and I’ll have to watch him go, knowing that I put myself on the beach for him, and he couldn’t even be bothered to show up to break me gently.
Sleep feels impossible. Every time I start to drift, I see myself sitting alone on that sand, checking the dunes every few minutes like some pathetic puppy waiting for her owner to come home.
The worst part isn’t that he didn’t want me. It’s that I let myself believe he might.
28
KEYS TO THE KINGDOM (EDEN)
The mats are slick with sweat, the air sharp with disinfectant and effort. Lukas plants his palm on my shoulder and smirks as he pins me flat on my back.
“You’re slow today, gorgeous. Jet lag?”
“Shut up.” I twist, get my hips under me, and roll free. My body’s tired but light, as if I could float. I get to my knees, breathless, and collapse beside him.
He stretches his arms overhead, studying me. “So…you gonna tell me why you’re walking like you danced the night away?”
I choke on my water. “I am not.”
“You’ve got that post-getting-laid glow. Who’s the lucky bastard?”
My face burns, but I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. “No one you know. Mind your own business.”
Lukas laughs, pushes to his feet, and offers me a hand. “It suits you. And hey, if it doesn’t work out, you know where to find me.”
I let him haul me up, rolling my eyes but still beaming. “Keep on dreaming, lover boy.”
An hour later,I’m standing in the middle of the York Avenue clinic with Liz, sneakers squeaking on the dusty hardwood.
The place smells faintly of plaster and old paint. Sunlight pours through the big front windows, spilling across the scuffed floor. Liz spins in a slow circle, arms flung wide. “Okay, I’m obsessed. This is it. This is where you’re going to change lives.”
I clutch the lease paperwork. “It’s also where I’m going to hemorrhage money if I screw this up.”
“That’s not in the cards, my friend.” She points at the back wall. “I can already see it. The CarverMethod logo right there. Modern reception seating. Clients lined up.”
My pulse races as the vision solidifies. “Athletes recovering from surgery, dancers with chronic injuries, weekend warriors who’ve heard I rehabbed a professional goalie. The hockey league visibility should bring in referrals I couldn’t get any other way.”
“And you’ll crush it,” Liz cuts in, fierce and certain. “I’ll help however I can. I’ve got a friend who builds websites for pennies. We’ll find someone to do the marketing. Melissa can refer you to her attorney. You’ll figure the rest out. February first, baby. That’s your launch. You’ll be killing it by spring.”
The words settle into me. February first. Less than six weeks to turn this empty shell into a business.
“You’re right.” Ideas spill faster than I can catch them. “Custom rehabilitation protocols, biomechanical analysis,electrical stimulation, ultrasound, maybe partner with a nutritionist who understands athletic performance. Leo can send referrals from his gym. And once word spreads about the Defenders work…”
Each thought makes me braver, the nervous energy transforming into pure determination.
I walk slowly across the space, imagining treatment tables positioned for optimal natural light, a reception desk by the windows, a small training corner with resistance equipment and movement analysis tools. My whole body feels electric with possibility.
