Dramatic, right? Yeah. I know. Because let’s be so for real, if I’d kissed Taylor back, she would have laughed in my face afterwards because it wasn’t supposed to mean anything. I’d have gotten on my knees for her right then and there and she would have thought I was crazy.
I always make a big deal out of everything, don’t I? I hold on to shit that doesn’t matter. I couldn’t laugh off that trend debacle any more than I could ever shake the fact that I’m not good enough to besomebody worth loving. It’s why I push myself to the brink just to prove my worth all the time. One insult from my father and I’ve been working myself into the ground to prove him wrong ever since.
“Why can’t you just ignore the idiots?”Taylor used to ask.
I don’t know why, but I can’t.
So stupid and pathetic. It’s no wonder I can’t keep a solid, healthy romantic relationship to save my life. I’m not worth the effort to be with. I can’t love anyone but Taylor, so I don’t even try. I just hold on to my former hopes and dreams just like I do my grudges. And my pain. And the hope of building some great life for myself in the town I love, surrounded by the people I care about. But it’s not possible. It was all just bullshit. Whimsical, dumbass bullshit. Wow. I’ve watched way too many Hallmark movies over the years.
Everything I’ve done has been for nothing.
My dad’s voice rushes into my head again. “You’re a waste of space.”
At least I’m self-aware. I know I’m unlovable. Intolerable. And filled with so much self-loathing I’ve become in-fucking-sufferable. Last night was a wake-up call. I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep...
“I’m done.”
The moment I say the words, something in me shuts off.
Leaving the bathroom, I pack a bag, grab some supplies, and load up a cooler. Then I set out to do what I should have done a long time ago.
I disappear.
Chapter 9
Taylor
He’s not home.
He’s not at work.
He’s not at Dean’s.
He’s not with Nick or Bennet or anyone else I can think of.
I’m worried. It’s been three days and I’m about ready to call a search party for Conner. This morning I’m at my dad’s office helping with invoices and scheduling to keep myself semi-distracted. My dad’s got a wonky way of organizing paperwork. He still prints most of it out and separates it in ways that I don’t understand. I’ve been trying to talk him into going paperless and having spreadsheets and databases and invoicing online, but he refuses.
“Hey, honey,” he says, entering the trailer. “What are you doing here this early?”
“Just getting these invoices accounted for so we know who’s behind.”
I haven’t told dad Conner disappeared. I don’t want him worrying. Dad’s stress levels have been getting worse lately and the less he has to do, the better.
Which is probably why Conner’s been busting his ass doing all the work so my dad can just shovepapers around and schedule jobs in the A/C. With Conner not here though, how is everything going to get done? I didn’t realize how much my family relies on him and it makes me angry that we’ve unknowingly taken advantage of his big heart. He’d never tell my father no.
“Dad, did the McNair’s pay for the roses?” I search through the printouts looking for the invoice when I come across…
“Yeah, it’s in the paid pile, sweetheart. I’ve got it all covered. Quit fussing over my piles, you’ll mess them up.”
His words become muffled in my ears when I pull out something with Conner’s signature. It’s a resignation letter. My knees buckle and I half-fall into the chair. “What is this?”
Dad leans against the door jamb and crosses his arms. I can’t see his face because my eyes are too blurry. “What is this, dad?”
“It’s nothing.”
Doesn’t look like nothing. Doesn’t feel like nothing.
Blinking hard, tears fall down my cheeks as I read the first two sentences. “He quit?” I swear the floor opens up under my feet. “Hequit?” I’m going to throw up. Pass out. Have a stroke. Something. My heart pounds heavily and my throat closes up. “Why didn’t you tell me? When did he give you this?”
