“I don’t need you to be perfect,” she says, her voice breaking. “I just need you to be here. With me. But you’re not. You haven’t been for weeks.”
And that’s what finally makes me understand that she’s right.
I haven’t been here. Not really. I’ve been drowning in my own worries, so consumed by the fear of failing that I’ve already failed at the thing that matters most:her.
“I’m sorry,” I say, but my voice sounds hollow, even to my own ears. My shoulders feel weighed down, as if I’m carrying sacks of grain. “I’m so sorry, Poppy. You deserve better than this. Better than me.”
“Don’t,” she whispers, lavender eyes blazing even as she continues to cry. “Don’t do that. Don’t make this about you not being good enough.”
“But it is about that.” I look at her—really look at her—and see the damage I’ve done. The hurt in her glistening eyes, the way she’s holding herself together by a thread. “You were right. We were fooling ourselves. Because I can’t be what you need. At least, not right now.”
“What are you saying?” she asks, even though I think we both know.
“I’m saying...” I have to stop and breathe. My heart feels like it’s trying to burst through my rib cage. “I’m saying maybe we need to take a break. Just until finals are over. Until I can actually think straight again.”
“A break,” she repeats, and there’s something dead in her voice now. “You mean a breakup.”
“I don’t—” But I can’t finish. Because maybe that’s exactly what I mean. “I don’t know. I just know I can’t do this right now. I can’t be in a relationship when I’m barely holding myself together.”
She nods slowly, stiffly, like she’s gone somewhere else entirely. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I blink. I didn’t expect her to agree so easily. A selfish part of me wants her to fight for it—forus—even as I’m pushing her away.
She stands, slinging her bag over her shoulder and gathering her books against her chest like armor. Armor againstme. “If that’s what you need, then... okay.”
Fuck.
“Poppy, wait—”
But she’s already backing away, shaking her head, making her soft lavender hair dance around her tearstained cheeks. “No. You’re right. This isn’t working. We’re not working. Not right now.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.” Tears still track down her cheeks, but her voice is steady now. “And maybe that’s okay. Maybe we both need this.”
She doesn’t sound like she believes it. But she turns and walks away anyway, her footsteps quick and purposeful, drawing looks from nearby students as she flees from me.
I watch her disappear around an aisle of books, every instinct screaming at me to follow her, to take it all back, to pull her into my arms and do whatever it takes to make this right.
But I don’t move.
I sit there at that stupid narrow table that’s too small for me, surrounded by textbooks I can’t focus on anymore, and I let the most amazing woman I’ve ever met walk out of my life.
I’m too exhausted and cowardly to fight for her the way she deserves. And by the time I realize what I’ve done—bythe time the shock wears off and the horror sets in—she’s already long gone.
I prop my elbows on the table and drop my head into my hands, my textbook forgotten, and try to understand how everything fell apart so fast.
How I lost her.
And how I let her go.
Chapter 49
Poppy
WAKING UP, I HAVE A brief moment where I don’t remember what happened yesterday, and I’m just sleepy enough to wonder why my eyes feel so puffy and raw. But then I feel the dampness of my pillowcase from the silent tears I cried last night, and it all slams back in: The library. My conversation with Aric. The cold cut in his voice when he said,I just know I can’t do this right now.
The memory has my stomach squeezing painfully, my chest constricting until I have to sit up and take a gasping breath, pushing away my blankets, which feel heavier than usual.
