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 snugaround 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 meshe 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 herselfwantingto 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.
