“I’m sorry,” I bite out before she can say another word.
She shakes her head, brown eyes wide and mournful. “No, don’t apologize. Jemma was out of line. She?—”
“It’s not just Jemma.” I grit my teeth and shake my head in both frustration and pain. “We shouldn’t have sprung us on your family.”
She gives me a sad smile. “No. Probably not. I was hopingthis would go differently. I was hoping if they could see how much you’ve changed... See us together?—”
“I’m going back to Pine Island.” I cut her off before she can continue with her hopeful fantasy of her family actually liking me. All of us getting along.
She deflates, her shoulders and face dropping like I’ve physically struck her. “Oh. Um, okay.”
I swallow hard, wishing I could skip over this next part but knowing the only way forward is through. The words feel like gravel in my throat. “When you get back, I’d be grateful if you could organize a different physical therapist to come to the games… to keep things from being complicated.”
She laughs in shock, the sound hollow and broken. “What are you talking about? Why…”
“You deserve better than me, Devin. You need someone who can be around your family without exploding. A man who can…” My throat tightens, the words getting harder to force out. “Can handle his emotions. One who knows how to treat you like a queen from the start. Not just one who’s learning how to now.”
Her eyes fill with tears, the moisture catching the light from the hallway sconces, and mine burn as well. I want to yank the words back down my throat and pull her to me, wrap my arms around her and tell her I didn’t mean any of it, but this is for her own good. Someone like Devin, who has their life together, who has a family that loves her and standards she deserves to keep, doesn’t need to be lugging around my dead-weight ass.
She bites her bottom lip, a single tear sliding down her cheek and catching on the curve of her jaw. There’s no protest, though. No argument. She just stands there, looking at me with those devastated eyes.
She understands.
She agrees.
That should make it easier, but it’s another blow to my gut.Maybe she’s known all along that this probably wouldn’t work out. Maybe what I’m saying is even a relief, saving her from having to be the one to end it.
Then good. That’ll make it all easier on her. Even if I feel like I’m trying to digest glass, like my chest is caving in on itself, she’ll be okay. She’ll forget about me soon enough. Find someone who doesn’t come with all this baggage.
“I’m sorry for wasting your time,” I whisper.
Closing the distance between us with a couple steps, I press a kiss to her forehead. Her skin is soft and warm, and I let myself memorize the feeling for just a second, the subtle floral scent of her shampoo, the way she fits perfectly against me. Then I turn and walk away, my boots heavy on the carpeted floor, my wrist still throbbing with every beat of my heart.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Devin
Finally through the airport’s security, I drop onto a chair and let go of my suitcase. The exhaustion that’s been tickling at the corners of my consciousness all morning finally spreads through my whole body, a result of not sleeping well last night. Or the night before that.
I haven’t been able to really rest since Oliver left. Once I do fall asleep, I inevitably wake up and reach for him, only to be reminded that he’s not there. He’s gone for good.
Familiar voices catch my ear, and I look over my shoulder just in time to see my mom and Jemma breeze right past me, acting like they don’t even know me.
Or, I guess, returning the sentiment. I’m the one who started giving them the cold shoulder after Oliver left the second night of our trip. Whether they were trying to convince me I’m better off without Oliver or asking for me to pass the salt, I kept my attention removed from them.
They got off lucky. What I really want to do is shaketheir shoulders and scream at them, to demand if they have any idea about what they’ve done.
The memory of Oliver’s eyes in the hallway, full of tears and defeat, makes me want to start crying all over again. Blinking hastily, I pull the strings on my hoodie so that it’s covering more of my face. So far, I’ve only cried in private since he left. Curled up in the bed that smelled of his aftershave, I let loose that first night, sobs wracking my body until I fell asleep.
He hasn’t texted. Hasn’t called. We’re officially over once again, and once again my heart is broken.
“Hey.” My dad sits down next to me, his presence steady and warm. “How are you holding up?”
I glance at my mom and sister, browsing paperbacks at the bookstore across the concourse. “Fine.”
“I know enough about women by now to understand that ‘fine’ means anything but.”
That makes me smile, my first smile since Oliver left. The expression feels foreign on my face, like I’ve forgotten how my mouth is supposed to move. “I don’t understand. I thought things could work between us this time. We both made so much progress. I mean, I thought we had. We were working on ourselves, working on communicating better. And then… Mom and Jemma had to treat him that way.”
