“Fucking Declan.”

I still couldn’t believe it. Why here? Why wasn’t he still playing in Spain?

“Are you fucking shitting me? Did he follow you here?” Oz growled out.

I shrugged because I had no clue and didn’t really want to think about it. Declan ghosted me. I hadn’t heard a single word from him in over a year, and that hurt. I thought he loved me, but I was stupid and naïve. How on this Earth would we have made a relationship work with him in Spain playing soccer with women throwing themselves at him day and night while I was still in college? I didn’t know, but I thought it could work—until it didn’t.

Now he was here, and I wanted to ruin him the way he ruined me. If I hadn’t felt like something was wrong with me, then maybe I wouldn’t have listened to my coaches when they told me I needed to lose weight. And then maybe I wouldn’t have starved myself to the point of needing professional help.

I wasn’t sure I’d ever be the same again.

Body or soul.

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