Page 121 of Love, Literature, and the Linebacker

I stand abruptly, pacing the room, panic clawing at my chest. “You can’t do this. I’m not asking you to prove you love me by giving up everything else you love.”

He stands too, closing the distance between us. “I’m choosing the life I want.”

I pull my hands free, my throat throbbing. “Please. I can’t be the reason you walk away from your future.”

His eyes soften, but his resolve doesn’t waver. “I’ve made up my mind.”

I keep searching for another answer. But every path my mind follows ends in the same place.

“I can’t do this,” I whisper, my heart splintering. “I can’t let you.”

“Lucy—”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

For one horrible second, I almost take it back.

I almost tell him I didn’t mean it. That I’m scared and tired and overthinking everything. That if he would just hold me for five more minutes, maybe I could find a less brutal way to say what I mean.

But there is no softer version of this.

No gentler wording that changes what has to happen.

Dylan’s eyes search mine like he’s waiting for me to smile, to tell him this is some terrible misunderstanding. And the look on his face nearly undoes me.

I love him.

I really, really love him.

That’s what makes this feel impossible.

“If you stay,” I say, sounding calmer than I feel, “you’ll think it’s because you chose us. But one day, when football is farther away and the life you wanted is something I can’t give back to you, I’m terrified you’ll look at me and remember what you gave up.”

Tears spill over before I can stop them.

“And I can survive missing you,” I whisper. “I can survive heartbreak. But I can’t survive being the reason you became someone who settled because of me.”

Dylan freezes. “What?”

He’s made our relationship the reason he can close a door before it even opens, and as long as I’m standing here, he’ll keep choosing me.

There’s only one way to remove me from the decision.

“I’m breaking up with you,” I repeat, my lower lip trembling. “I can’t hold you back.”

I don’t wait to see his reaction. I turn and run, the tears coming fast and uncontrollable.

By the time I’m outside, the cold night air stealing my breath, my chest feels like it’s caving in.

I don’t know where I’m going.

I only know I can’t stay.

I don’t know if he’s still standing in that room.

I don’t look back.

I’ve spent my whole life believing love stories end when people stop choosing each other. I never imagined the worst ending would come from choosing someone too much.