Harlow,
Well, eggplant emojis are reserved for couples who remind one another to pick up toothpaste at the grocery store on their way home and not to be late because they have plans tonight.
Anyhow, that still doesn’t sound like a decision.
I’m not sure goodbye is in my vocabulary. You would have to explain in great detail how that makes sense to either one of us.
You don’t want to see my music playlist right now. It’s taken a dark turn because I’m trying to distract myself from imagining how I would pin you against a wall right now and shake you until you let your heart lead.
And yeah… a power play, that’s what I’ve put you in. Taking the league cup then retiring into bliss could be all ours.
Love you too.
Stone
* * *
What the hellam I doing? I’m throwing us into a pit of turmoil, only leading us to more misery by prolonging the inevitable. That’s a dark thought but realistic.
My hands shake while hanging at my sides, and I pace my living room, gathering courage to do what I’m about to do.
I’m never going to be enough, and I’m only ever going to feel far luckier than I deserve. My only choice is to believe in Stone’s testament that I’m so damn wrong and he’ll still be right there. The other option is to walk away.
I jerk my body and nearly march straight to my laptop, not even bothering to sit down.
Stone,
No more waiting. We need to talk.
I’ll book a ticket as soon as I can.
-Harlow
22
STONE
Iskate solemnly on the ice as my brother stands on the side, watching me with a somber face, probably concerned. Allowing the puck to slide side to side, this is probably my most pathetic moment on the ice, even more than the day my career ended.
For the last few days, I’ve felt sick to my stomach. Harlow is coming to Lake Spark to talk, which is often code for parting ways.
“Damn, get it together, Stone,” my brother says.
I don’t even need to slow down, I’m moving at nearly a snail’s pace. I was hoping that the ice would clear my head, it always has in the past. Well, a lot of fucking good this is doing.
Braking by Vaughn, I step off the ice to go sit on the bench, and he follows. He looks at me with sympathy before he leans over to rest his elbows on his knees, waiting for me to say something.
“She’s coming to break up with me,” I say, deflated, and sigh.
“Are you sure?”
I flash him an unamused look. “Get there faster with the clues, Vaughn. Talk, visit, we’ve been floating in and out of what we want. Eventually a crossroads must come. Seems that moment might be now.”
He chortles at me. “Some roads never end. You said it yourself.”
“But directions normally lead you to a destination too.”
Vaughn blows out a breath. “Since when did you become Mr. Negative? This is kind of depressing. Either be optimistic or accept what’s coming and be mentally prepared for that. I refuse to let you walk around for weeks or months in pieces.” He pats my shoulder and squeezes for encouragement. “You once helped solve my relationship woes. It’s because you were meant to solve your own problems one day.”
