Page 24

Running didn't help as much as I'd hoped.

For brief stretches, my mind went blank, focused only on the burn in my lungs and the ache in my legs.

But every time I stopped at a traffic light or slowed to navigate a crowded sidewalk, thoughts of Nate rushed back in.

His text. His smile. His hands. The knowledge that I could respond to his message and be in his arms within an hour.

I head toward the bathroom, stripping off my sweat-drenched clothes as soon as I get there. The hot shower stings my overheated skin, but I stand under the spray until my muscles begin to unknot.

Clean and wrapped in a towel, I move to my bedroom and pull my weekender bag from the closet.

Before I went for my run, I sent Reese a quick text telling her how shitty I feel and she insisted we get out of town together this weekend.

She said my mental health required a girls’ weekend and I had to agree.

I need a change of scenery, out of Chicago, away from the Blades, far from Nate Barnes.

I start pulling clothes from drawers, making neat piles on my bed. Jeans. T-shirts. Sweaters. Lake Geneva in fall can be unpredictable, but Reese's family cabin is always cozy regardless of weather. We've been going there since college, and it holds so many happy and fun memories.

My phone rings and Reese's name flashes on the screen. I tap the speaker button while continuing to fold clothes.

"Please tell me you're actually packing and not just thinking about packing," she says instead of hello like a normal person.

"Hello to you too, girl," I reply. "And yes, I'm actually packing. You said we’re going, so we’re going."

"Hallelujah. I was worried you'd bail on me." There's a shuffling sound on her end. "I'm bringing enough wine to stock a small liquor store, just FYI. And chocolate. And those cheese straws you're obsessed with."

"You're the best." I sit on the edge of the bed, suddenly overwhelmed by gratitude for this friendship that has weathered every storm. "Seriously, Reesey. Thank you for doing this."

"Hey, don't get all sappy on me." Her tone softens. "That's what I'm here for. Wine, cheese straws, and helping you forget about sexy hockey players who can ruin your life."

I wince. "You make it sound so dramatic."

"Uh, it is dramatic. This is literally a soap opera plot. 'Psychologist falls for forbidden client, story at eleven.'" She pauses. "Speaking of which, any updates on the photo situation?"

"Dad says the press still hasn't identified me. Just lots of speculation." I fold a pair of jeans and put them in the pile. "He put me on leave for a week."

"Shit." Reese's voice drops. "I’m guessing that’s not good."

"It’s definitely not great." I swallow against the tightness in my throat. "He says he's worried about me."

"Well, I mean, that's good, right? That he's concerned instead of angry?"

"I guess." I stand, moving to my closet for a jacket. "But it feels like punishment. Like I'm being sent to my room to think about what I've done."

"Or maybe he really is just giving you space to figure things out." Reese's voice turns gentle. "You have been a mess, El. I mean, you know I love you, but objectively speaking? Total disaster zone."

I laugh despite myself. "Thanks a lot."

"Just speaking truth. So, I'll pick you up at 7?"

"Yeah." I glance at the clock. Almost 5 now. "I'll be ready."

We hang up and I continue packing, moving through my still-unfamiliar apartment gathering toiletries, a book I probably won't read, running shoes I probably won't use.

As I zip the bag closed, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror—hair still damp from the shower, no makeup, eyes shadowed with exhaustion.

I barely recognize myself. The woman staring back at me looks uncertain in a way that scares me. I've always known exactly who I am and what I want. Driven. Focused. In control.

But Nate Barnes walked into my life and upended everything I thought I knew about myself. He showed me a side of myself I didn't know existed—a woman capable of recklessness, of putting desire above duty, of risking everything.

I don't regret knowing that woman exists. I just need to figure out how to reconcile her with the person I've spent years becoming.

I check the time—6:30. Reese will be here soon. I do one final sweep of the apartment, making sure lights are off, windows are locked.

My phone sits on the kitchen counter, dark and silent. No more texts from Nate. Part of me is relieved. Part of me is devastated. I pick it up, turn it over in my hand. Then I power it down completely and tuck it into my purse. Maybe I’ll just leave it off for the weekend.

The buzzer sounds—Reese, early as usual. I grab my bag and purse, take one last look around my half-unpacked apartment. My plan was to get it all unboxed this weekend. Oh well… getting away feels more important.

As I head downstairs to meet Reese, there's a small flicker of something like hope in my chest. I've survived worse than this. My mother's death. My first heartbreak. The crushing pressure of graduate school. I'll survive Nate Barnes too.

Even if, right now, it doesn't feel that way.

"Ready for wine and wilderness?" Reese calls as I push through the building's front door. She leans against her SUV, her arms crossed, a wide smile on her face.

"Abso-fucking-lutely," I answer, managing a small smile in return.

As we drive away from my apartment, from Chicago, from all the complications of my life here, I close my eyes and try to imagine a version of myself that isn't aching for a man I can't have. It's harder than it should be.

But I'm trying. That has to count for something.