vision starts to blur.
My feet scuff the ground as I stumble mid-stride. Max grabs my arm and catches me before I can fall.
“Whoa, careful,” he murmurs. “Easy there. Are you okay?”
The world spins off-kilter before righting itself, and I point to the ground. “I think I just need to sit down for a minute.” I sink to the cold grass, the frozen earth solid and reassuring under me, and try to blink away a sudden wave of nausea.
“Hanna.” Max squats before me and cups my face in his hand. Worry creases his brow. “Did you eat this morning?”
I blink. He’s touching me, and I don’t want to talk about my diet. I want to melt into his warmth. “I don’t like to eat before I run,” I admit.
“Okay, my lecture on that aside. What about last night?”
“Chicken breast,” I answer, mentally amending half a chicken breast.
“What else?”
“What do you mean?”
“What did you eat with it?” His thumb strokes my cheek.
“Oh. I had it on about two cups of mixed greens.”
“Any starch? Grains? Fruit?”
“No.”
He takes a seat next to me and rests his forearms on his knees. “Lunch?”
“I don’t know. I was busy. Maybe an apple.”
He bows his head. “I’m the worst trainer ever. You didn’t say anything about weight loss, and I just assumed you weren’t looking to lose weight. But I should have known.”
“Known what?”
He smiles at me. “You’re just that kind of personality. You know? You decide you’re going to do something and you go all in.”
“You make it sound like a bad thing.”
He grins. “It’s not, but you can’t starve yourself. If you really want to lose weight, that’s okay, but you have to eat to lose.”
I try not to roll my eyes at the advice I’ve heard again and again. I push myself off the ground. “I think I should just go home.”
“Hanna, just promise me you’ll start eating.”
So I can stay this size forever? “Sure.”
“Good. Then you can come with me to dinner on Friday.”
Frowning, I turn back to him. “Why?”
He stands and brushes off his shorts. “I think it’s called a date. I buy you dinner. We eat together. Maybe hold hands on the way home?”
I blink at him and the world spins in front of me again, but I soften my knees and draw in a long, slow breath. “That sounds nice.”
“Pick you up at six.”
Present Day
Liz: Nate disappeared, so no sexy rocker for me tonight. Damn. I’ve known nuns who got more action than I’ve seen lately.
I grimace at Lizzy’s text from last night. On the one hand, she makes me laugh, but on the other, I don’t know what she’s going to think when I tell her Nate is Mr. Hulk Tattoo.
I’m supposed to spend the day looking at wedding venues with my mom, and all I can think about is whether I cheated on my fiancé. Call me crazy, but I’m pretty sure I need to know if I’m fucking some rock star behind Max’s back before I can choose the length of my veil.
I’ve been working in the bakery since four thirty this morning, and the clock reads twenty to six when Lizzy comes through the front door, her eyes half closed.
“Why couldn’t your dream career have required me to sleep past ten every day, huh?” She pushes past me and to the coffee. “I swear, if I weren’t an unemployed loser, I’d tell you to find someone else to wake up at the ass crack of dawn.” She pours herself a cup of coffee and then dumps cream in it before taking a long drink. “Fuck me, that’s good.” When she finally opens her eyes and looks at me—really looks at me—she frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“I know who Mr. Hulk Tattoo is,” I whisper.
She straightens. “Really? Did he come back? Did you see him somewhere?”
“He was at Asher’s last night.”
She grins. “Oh, the plot thickens!”
“It’s Nate Crane, Liz.”
“What’s Nate Crane?”
“Nate Crane is the guy who got into my bed like he belonged there. He’s the guy I was cheating on Max
My feet scuff the ground as I stumble mid-stride. Max grabs my arm and catches me before I can fall.
“Whoa, careful,” he murmurs. “Easy there. Are you okay?”
The world spins off-kilter before righting itself, and I point to the ground. “I think I just need to sit down for a minute.” I sink to the cold grass, the frozen earth solid and reassuring under me, and try to blink away a sudden wave of nausea.
“Hanna.” Max squats before me and cups my face in his hand. Worry creases his brow. “Did you eat this morning?”
I blink. He’s touching me, and I don’t want to talk about my diet. I want to melt into his warmth. “I don’t like to eat before I run,” I admit.
“Okay, my lecture on that aside. What about last night?”
“Chicken breast,” I answer, mentally amending half a chicken breast.
“What else?”
“What do you mean?”
“What did you eat with it?” His thumb strokes my cheek.
“Oh. I had it on about two cups of mixed greens.”
“Any starch? Grains? Fruit?”
“No.”
He takes a seat next to me and rests his forearms on his knees. “Lunch?”
“I don’t know. I was busy. Maybe an apple.”
He bows his head. “I’m the worst trainer ever. You didn’t say anything about weight loss, and I just assumed you weren’t looking to lose weight. But I should have known.”
“Known what?”
He smiles at me. “You’re just that kind of personality. You know? You decide you’re going to do something and you go all in.”
“You make it sound like a bad thing.”
He grins. “It’s not, but you can’t starve yourself. If you really want to lose weight, that’s okay, but you have to eat to lose.”
I try not to roll my eyes at the advice I’ve heard again and again. I push myself off the ground. “I think I should just go home.”
“Hanna, just promise me you’ll start eating.”
So I can stay this size forever? “Sure.”
“Good. Then you can come with me to dinner on Friday.”
Frowning, I turn back to him. “Why?”
He stands and brushes off his shorts. “I think it’s called a date. I buy you dinner. We eat together. Maybe hold hands on the way home?”
I blink at him and the world spins in front of me again, but I soften my knees and draw in a long, slow breath. “That sounds nice.”
“Pick you up at six.”
Present Day
Liz: Nate disappeared, so no sexy rocker for me tonight. Damn. I’ve known nuns who got more action than I’ve seen lately.
I grimace at Lizzy’s text from last night. On the one hand, she makes me laugh, but on the other, I don’t know what she’s going to think when I tell her Nate is Mr. Hulk Tattoo.
I’m supposed to spend the day looking at wedding venues with my mom, and all I can think about is whether I cheated on my fiancé. Call me crazy, but I’m pretty sure I need to know if I’m fucking some rock star behind Max’s back before I can choose the length of my veil.
I’ve been working in the bakery since four thirty this morning, and the clock reads twenty to six when Lizzy comes through the front door, her eyes half closed.
“Why couldn’t your dream career have required me to sleep past ten every day, huh?” She pushes past me and to the coffee. “I swear, if I weren’t an unemployed loser, I’d tell you to find someone else to wake up at the ass crack of dawn.” She pours herself a cup of coffee and then dumps cream in it before taking a long drink. “Fuck me, that’s good.” When she finally opens her eyes and looks at me—really looks at me—she frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“I know who Mr. Hulk Tattoo is,” I whisper.
She straightens. “Really? Did he come back? Did you see him somewhere?”
“He was at Asher’s last night.”
She grins. “Oh, the plot thickens!”
“It’s Nate Crane, Liz.”
“What’s Nate Crane?”
“Nate Crane is the guy who got into my bed like he belonged there. He’s the guy I was cheating on Max
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