Because falling for Brock had been a risk. Love was a risk no matter what, and I had been brave—dumb and blind—but brave. When it came to Brock, I dove in headfirst and didn’t come up for air.
And I had lived. Sure, I’d been shy and sometimes overwhelmed by my large-ass family, but there were all these things that version of me had done—collecting books obsessively, going to signings and meeting authors, conning friends into taking trips to New York City, and spending every Sunday morning eating breakfast with the best people in the world. There was so much that I’d wanted to do back then. I’d wanted to travel. To write a book! I’d wanted to meet my ultimate author crush, the Queen known as JR Ward. I’d wanted to stand next to my father during a televised match, knowing I had a hand in bringing that talent to the ring. I’d wanted . . .
I’d wanted so much.
I barely recognized that girl with the thick bangs and wide smile, but sometimes I wasn’t sure if not being her anymore was really a good thing, because I didn’t do any of those things I enjoyed anymore.
I didn’t collect books.
I didn’t go to book signings.
I sure as hell didn’t travel.
I still hadn’t met JR Ward.
I had nothing to do with my family’s legacy until recently.
And I never once attempted to write a book, but that was probably a good thing.
This version of me, the one from the last six years, went to work, came home, and then lost herself in fictional worlds that were far, far more exciting than mine. I lived through characters that weren’t real, but they still lived more authentic lives than me, and how . . . how was I supposed to keep going like this? How was I supposed to continue when living among pages held more appeal than living in real life?
Dropping my phone, I clapped my hands over my face and rubbed at my eyes. I felt like I was seconds from shattering all over again, and the good Lord knew I’d already done that once before.
But I couldn’t let myself do that.
Because tomorrow I was starting a new job and it was one I would care about, because it was a part of my blood. And I was going to go out on that second date with Grady. Not only that, but when Avery invited me to Sunday breakfast, and she would, because she texted nearly every Friday and asked me to go, I wouldn’t come up with an excuse to not go like I normally did. I would go. These were small but impressive steps, and maybe I could be a little of that old Jillian.
Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.
Chapter 6
My stomach was churning and full of knots the entire drive to the Lima Academy on Monday morning. I didn’t even know why I was so nervous. I knew how to manage the Academy. I’d grown up looking over my father’s shoulder as he ran the business.
Today was such a big deal.
I could buy so many more purses with my new salary.
And Rhage could start eating Fancy Feast.
But I was still as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I’d woken up about an hour earlier than necessary, which meant I had time to style my hair, something I normally didn’t do when I went to work. Dressing in the wide-leg black trousers I’d picked last night, I paired them with a deep maroon blouse with lacy sleeves I found this morning. I still had more than enough time to make the drive from my apartment off of Del Mar Orchard Road to where the Lima Academy was situated a few miles outside of Shepherdstown, between the University and Martinsburg.
The Academy was located about a mile off of Route 45, beyond a sub-division and a small farm. I’d seen it a hundred times since it opened, but I couldn’t help but feel awed when the sprawling, three-story building came into view.
This was my father’s, but it was also mine.
The first floor was the state-of-the-art gym open to public membership. It came complete with separate rooms for classes, an indoor Olympic pool, sauna and whirlpool rooms, childcare for those working out, and of course, several tanning rooms, because why have all those sleek muscles and be pasty white? I rolled my eyes at that.
The second floor was dedicated to various martial arts classes, ranging from classes for kids who were interested in karate, to those serious about learning jiu jitsu, grappling (both standing and on the ground), striking, and so on, and of course, a training center for those looking to pursue a career in the mixed martial arts. Self-defense classes were also held on the second floor. There was a lot of available space on the second floor, and that was what my father had wanted me to focus on.
The top floor was offices—where my office would be located.
This was my family’s legacy.
And it was a part of mine.
I’d once told my friend Abby that I didn’t want to do what my family did, but that had been a lie in the end. Maybe at that time I was going through some stage in life where I wanted to rebel against everything and everyone, but deep down I always wanted to be a part of it. So pulling into the parking spot was almost like I was finally, finally coming home.
I opened the back door and grabbed the box of personal items I’d placed on the back seat. I hadn’t brought much with me. A candle from Bath and Body Works that would make my office smell like a pumpkin had thrown up all over it. One framed photo of my parents from a couple of Christmases ago. A hot pink stapler that Avery had given me a year or so ago, and my Sam and Dean Winchester Funko Pops, because they went everywhere with me.
Feeling more ready, I rode the elevator up to the third floor, my sleek black bag dangling from my forearm since it had slipped down my arm. I nibbled on the inside of my cheek as the elevator slid to a gentle stop and the doors glided open.