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“True. But in that case, we’ll be looking in the wrong place. Maybe we should look at the surf rental or the fish shacks.”

Corbin and Dane tip the employees who load our baggage as we check into the resort. Dane played for the Stallions basketball team now plays professionally for the Nashville Fireflies.

So, when I check in, the attendant hands me a key card and confirms that Madison will be given a key also when she arrives.

They have golf carts to take us to our villas, sprinkled around the beach. Some are on the water, and some are nestled amongst palm trees and colorful flowering bushes. Our golf carts split up, taking my brother down a different path. Madison and I will be staying off the beaten path, tucked far away from Corbin and Oakley’s rental. I don’t want to be in hearing distance of their honeymoon activities.

When we arrive at my villa, I’m overwhelmed with simple beauty. This is truly a place to unwind and heal. I remind myself that I’m here to reclaim my life and infuse my body with sun and fun. Despite the thatch roof outside, the ceiling inside is made of light tan boards like beadboard with a huge black fan swirling in the center, right over the two twin beds. It’s a good thing Madison and I are small because I can’t imagine one of the hockey players in these beds—their legs would be hanging off the bed from their knees down.

Large retractable glass doors lead to the covered patio with rocking chairs, a couch, and coffee table. A hammock hangs between two trees by a small creek line with pink, red, and purple flowers. I lie in the hammock for a moment, letting out a sigh, and I feel a smile roll over my face like the water making its way over the smooth creek pebbles.

As much as I want to explore around my villa, I decide to unpack, making sure to leave Madison room for her clothes and bathing suits. I leave out my kelly-green, one-shoulder, one-piece bathing suit. I grab my beach tote, complete with my kindle, earbuds, and a paperback in case my e-reader battery dies. A girl must always have her book boyfriends close.

I meet my brother and Oakley at their villa and as I’m looking around in awe, Oakley says in an upbeat tone, “It’s a mansion villa.”

Who knew I would fall in love with Oakley? I thought she was a gold digger, trying to take advantage of my brother, butshe’s the best person for him and for me. I’ve come to depend on her unfiltered thoughts that keep us all laughing. She radiates happiness.

Corbin spreads his arms, taking us under his wings. “Let’s go. Some of the others are already here.”

My body tenses instantly. I’m not ready to face John and his girlfriend. Corbin gives my arm a pump, silently comforting me that everything will work out.

As we reach the finely ground white sand, about twenty wooden lounge chairs and umbrellas line the beach, but what grabs my attention are the water trampolines. I flick my flip flops in the sand, shed my cover up, drop my tote, and run toward the water. I let out a scream of happiness as my feet splash in the clear aqua-colored water. I don’t think I’ve smiled this hard since college.

The trampoline calls my name, and once I reach the bright-yellow, round inflatable, the water is up to my chest. I climb up, burning my feet and immediately jump, doing toe touches. When I land, ocean water splashes, coating the black fabric and cooling it. I soar high into the air and perform flipping skills from my college days. My muscles remember how to execute every skill. I haven’t cheered in years and although I dance for Dane’s NBA team, it’s not the same.

Soon, I’m surrounded by our friends. They yell, “Go, Becca.” Then a familiar voice that once soothed my sadness says, “Show ‘em what you can do, Bex.”

John, looking hot as hell, stands by his pop tart, beautiful, influencer girlfriend. He’s smiling. She’s not.

I jump high a few times, doing a basket toss back flip, which is where you spread your legs wide halfway through the back flip, then complete the skill and land. My friends clap and cheer me on, giving me the confidence to do a double back, which I haven’t attempted in years. I proceed to do most of the college cheer stunts that I ever mastered. My heart pounds every time my feet leave the black mesh. I tuck my knees into the doubleback and when I land, I have so much height, I press into a forward flip and stick the landing. A spray of saltwater and sun splashes against my skin, and I feel freer than I have since I got married, not since I got a divorce. I’m reclaiming my life.

All the women climb up and jump. I watch Stella, John’s girlfriend, as she turns and stomps away, back to the beach chairs. John looks at her, then me. I give him a half smile, then Lettie asks, “Can you teach me to do that?”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

Lettie, Dane’s wife, is an equestrian Olympic gold medalist, so she’s athletic and strong, but this is different. “Let’s start with jumps. Toe touches are fun, then we can work our way up to a front flip.”

As I’m propelled into the air, I can’t help but keep an eye on John’s interaction with his girlfriend. He sits sideways on the lounge chair beside her with his hands between his knees. He seems to be talking, but she lowers the back of the lounger and ignores him. It’s not long before he runs toward the ocean, kicking up sand. When the water hits him at mid-calf, he dives in. He rockets out of the water and shakes his hair out, looking like a male model.

He joins the guys and although they’re different heights and builds, they’re all muscular and fit. Some have six packs, and others have eight packs, but they’re all attractive. I can’t help but focus on the two closest to me—John and Reed. John plays hockey for the Dallas Rattlers and Reed plays with Bryce on the Georgia Jets.

The girls ask me to do a twisting back flip and when I do, Lettie accidentally jumps as I land. My foot lands awkwardly and skids across the mesh, taking a piece of skin with it.

Lettie and Brooke scream, but Harper calmly says, “The saltwater will sting. We’ll need one of the guys to carry you to shore, and I’ll fix you right up.”

Harper’s a doctor and married to Logan Warren, formerfootball Stallion who plays professionally for the Louisville Heavyweights.

I insist, “I’m fine. I can walk.”

Harper, who is a good six inches taller than me, furls her lips with one eyebrow raised. “The ocean nearly swallowed you up when you ran to the trampoline.” She looks over her shoulder and waves to the guys. “Hey, we need some help.”

Logan and Corbin are swimming too far away to hear her, but Harper catches John and Reed’s attention. John’s thigh muscles flex as he strides effortlessly through the shimmering surface and reaches us first. “What’s wrong?” He looks at the blood bubbling up in little circles along my ankle. “Jesus, Becca. What happened?”

Lettie sheepishly raises her hand. “Umm, I was so excited that I jumped right when Becca was landing.”

“Lettie, this is nothing compared to most of my injuries in cheer. It’s okay,” I say to try to tamper her guilt.