“You are wrong. I’m not kicking you out. It’s just—”
“So I can keep staying with you?”
He sighed and dropped his head. After a long beat, he shook his head. “No. No, you can’t.”
I gave a harsh barking laugh. “You’re unreal. We finally sleep together after all this time, and you break up with me the next day. Literally a minute after I find out that your father stabbed mine. I don’t even know how he’s doing, if he’s alive or not. You’re a fucking pig, Dylan Burns.”
I stomped across the room and pushed past Austin and Ryan.
“Indy!” Austin called. “Wait. You don’t understand.”
“What’s to understand? We’re done. He said it himself!” I walked to my desk and grabbed my phone to shove it into my backpack. I’d been so stupid. I should’ve known better. Pulling on my backpack, I turned to go.
“Indy, could you just listen for a second?” Dylan asked from the other side of the desk.
“Fuck. Off.” I couldn’t even look at him. But I also didn’t know where to go. I didn’t have a car. Everything I owned was in Dylan’s condo, and I had no way to get there. Call for an Uber, I guess?
I was pawing through my backpack to get my phone back out when Dylan spoke again.
“Aunt Wendy cornered me and pointed out the power discrepancy in our relationship—mine and yours.”
I rolled my eyes and opened a zipper on my bag. That was bullshit, and he knew it.
“You rely on me for everything—shelter, employment, food, everything you can think of. And it’s not healthy. You need, we should—” He broke off in a muffled groan. “I’m not explaining it right. But essentially I’m holding all the power here and eventually you’re going to resent it. You’re missing out on all those wonderful new adult experiences—being a college student, staying out late, making bad choices. You deserve to live your life.”
“No, what I deserve is to make my own choices.” I gave up on finding my phone and shoved my backpack around onto my back again. Squaring my shoulders, I faced him, and my heart almost broke again at the naked pain on his face. But then I remembered that he was breaking up with me when I was at my lowest. What an asshole. “You think me living with you wasn’t a choice I made? I could’ve stayed with Anne. I could’ve found a shelter or program or whatever to help me out. But I didn’t. Sure at first I might not have had the best of intentions, but once I got to know you, that changed. And I stayed here with you because I was falling—”
Nope. I wasn’t going to finish that sentence.
“It doesn’t matter.” I shook my head. “The point is that I made the decision to stay with you. I had options. But you’re taking the one option I like best away.”
Dylan’s expression crumpled. “I don’t…I wish you could see that I’m trying to do this for you. I want you to have everything you want, but I am standing in your way. I’m holding you back.”
“Oh, you’re definitely standing in my way now.” I shifted my backpack up higher on my shoulder then came around the desk, but Dylan countered, stepping into my path. “Move.”
“Indy…”
“Nope. You’re done with me, and I’m definitely done with you now. Hurt me once, shame on you. I won’t be sticking around for round two. Now get the fuck out of my way.”
Dylan dropped his head then took a large step backward away from the desk.
As I stepped past him he whispered, “I already fell for you, Indy. All the way. I’m doing this because I love you.”
The rest of my exit was a haze of tears, sympathetic murmurs from Ryan and Austin, and a burning in my chest I was almost certain was my heart breaking.
It hurt so much.
And he was such a liar.
Chapter 23
Still Indy
I don’t really remember a lot from those first few weeks after The Move Out. Actually, I do remember calling the jail. My dad was recovering in the infirmary. Dylan’s sperm donor had been locked down in solitary and would be facing assault charges, adding to his prison term. So stupid.
Sabrina’s apartment was nice, I guess. She’d already moved most of her stuff into her boyfriend’s place, but there were still a few things here and there that marked the place asnotmine—souvenir mugs, unfamiliar furniture, and a few yearbooks she’d left behind in a closet. But I didn’t care.
It was hard to care about much, honestly. I was just so damned mad.
