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

Chapter 6