But I had thrown a wrench in the works. I wasn’t giving him exactly what he wanted, so he was going to be a dick about it.
Well screw that.
“I guess that’s it then, Morgan. I hope your mother makes a full recovery. I really do.” He sounded so cold. So distant.
“So that’s it. We’re done?” I felt sick.
“What else are we supposed to do?” he asked. He was already pulling away.
“You could say we’ll make it work. That we’ll find a way. You wouldn’t be breaking my heart with everything I’m dealing with,” I shouted, the tears falling freely.
“I’m sorry, Morgan. You mean a lot to me, but how is this going to go? You in America, me in England? I barely see you as it is. It will be impossible without you here. I just think prolonging the inevitable hurts us unnecessarily.” How clinical of him. How rational.
Well I wasn’t feeling rational.
“You really are an asshole.”
“So I’ve been told,” Lucas quipped.
“Goodbye, Lucas. Have a nice life.”
And then I hung up.
I dropped the phone on the floor, curled into a fetal position on the couch and cried. And cried. And cried.
Damn Lucas Bradley for being an asshole.
Damn him for making me love him and then taking that love away.
Damn him for ruining my heart and decimating my soul.
I hated him.
Mostly because I couldn’t stop loving him. No matter how much I wanted to.
Lucas
Iwas drunk.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had been sober.
It had been six weeks since Morgan had flown back to England. Six weeks since I had told her goodbye.
Six weeks since she told me she wasn’t coming back.
My life had gone to shit.
I was playing like crap. Chester had started so strong, now my team barely spoke to me.
They felt betrayed.
I guess I understood that, but I was too miserable to care.
Morgan had left me.
Just like my dad.
I loved her and she wasn’t coming back.
