Would it be worth it to Reese to date someone who was in and out of her life?
That question boiled itself down into the sticky feeling that was lodged in her stomach. Up until now, her life had always been planned years in advance. Now that her plans had fallen apart, she’d been impulsive the last few weeks in a way she never had before.
It had brought her to Stoneport.
It had brought her toReese.
Was she ready to walk away from all of that already?
And for what? A job she may be horrible at? That she may not even get? On top of what she’d be letting go of, could she take that rejection again, so soon?
She had to let Sara know about the announcer position by tomorrow, and refusing to think—seriously think—about her options until now meant that they were all swirling together, at the worst possible moment.
“Sydney?” Reese asked, apprehension in her voice as her smile faltered.
Sydney sighed, willing the confusing thoughts swirling around out of her body on the exhale. “She offered me a job. Or, more accurately, a tryout for a new job.”
Really, the best thing to do was justaskReese where she stood on everything instead of trying to draw up her own conclusions.
And, even more importantly, they needed to figure out what theybothactually wanted.
Whatever was happening with Reese aside, Sydney needed to decide for herself what came next, too.
Reese tipped her head to the side and studied Sydney unnervingly, like she was trying to understand. Join the club. “And is that… not a good thing?”
Before answering, Sydney walked over to the bed. Her legs felt like jelly, and she sucked in a deep, calming breath before she sat down.
Whyhadn’t she given this more thought after talking to Sara?
Because maybe she wouldn’t like the conclusion she came to, the truths it would force her to accept about herself.
“My agent, Sara, told me that The Tennis Network is considering me for a commentator position. I have to let her know by tomorrow.”
Reese’s eyes lit up before she saw the frown Sydney could feel on her own face, which prompted Reese’s features to quickly return to neutral. “Okay, so… seems like we have mixed feelings?” she asked, coming to sit next to Sydney, who relished the current of warmth that flowed through her when Reese entangled their fingers together.
Reese ran her fingertips along Sydney’s knuckles in a soothing pattern, and in spite of the tumult coursing through her, she almost purred like a cat.
“Talk to me about them,” Reese encouraged softly, her fingers rubbing in small, focused circles as she moved from knuckleto knuckle.
“I’ve spent the last month mourning my relationship with professional tennis.” She looked at Reese then, wondering if she understood. “Have you ever tried to get over something? Like, well and truly find closure and move on? Only, the idea of it keeps popping up. Keeps making you wonder if you made the right decision? Especially when whatever happened wasn’t your decision in the first place. Tennis has been my whole life up until now. Am I just too afraid to give up the comfort of what I’ve known, even if it isn’t a good idea to stay in this world?”
She appreciated Reese’s thoughtful brow scrunch, which was more than a little endearing, while she considered Sydney’s question. “I’ve spent my entire life wanting my father’s approval. All those awards,” Reese said, gesturing toward the wall, “were so that he’d notice that I was smart and capable and worthy of following in his footsteps.”
When Reese’s lips twitched, Sydney scooted a little closer, so that their thighs touched. She wanted to be physically connected for whatever Reese said next. It felt important.
Thismomenthappening between them felt important.
“And then I got into a top college. And a top business school. And founded and sold a startup. And then bought a money pit worth a few million dollars.” She looked at Sydney quickly, flashing her an embarrassed grin. “Respectfully.”
Sydney held up her hands. “No offense taken.”
“I think all of those things were reactive. I was reacting to what I thought would make other people happy, what would gain me their approval, when what I should have been looking for all along was my own.”
“Too long for a T-shirt, but that’s definitely the best inspirational quote I’ve heard in a while,” Sydney said, pushing away the seriousness of Reese’s words. They made her feel suddenly vulnerable.
The thing about honest conversations was that they had to go both ways.
And what Sydney knew, deep down—even if she tried topretend it was a million other reasons—was that she was scared. To fail. To hope. To make the wrong decisions.
