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“More like what didn’t happen.” I scoff. “I gave him a pass all week because I knew his father was sick and…” I pause, stopping the words from spilling out of my mouth. I can’t tell her about Blake’s fate. About how his hockey career is over. No matter how upset I am with him, that’s not my story to tell. “He didn’t show.”
“Oh, maybe something happened to his dad? Like a setback or something?” Her voice comes across as soft and sympathetic and dials down my anger a notch. But I’ve already played this scenario through my head. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt, but sending a simple courtesy text wouldn’t have taken that long.
“I thought of that, but he didn’t call. He didn’t text. And my message is left on read, so I know he saw it.” I stop pacing and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I just feel like an idiot.”
“So, what you had together was actually real.”
My brows furrow as I turn to look at my friend, who I’m beginning to question her sanity. “Yeah, you knew this.”
She sighs. “I’m the idiot.”
“What? Why are you the idiot? That’s all on me.”
“Never mind.” She gives her head a shake. “I’m sorry. You know I love you, but Blake is … selfish. I’ve never known him not to be.”
And there it is. That jab in my chest that makes me want to defend him. Even now.
“I won’t minimize what we had, but he made me feel special. Even if it was for a short amount of time.” I stalk to the refrigerator and open the door. I stare at the contents but don’t actually see anything. I can’t believe I fell for his lies.
Sure, Blake is hurting right now. He just lost everything he’s worked so hard for his entire life. But that doesn’t excuse his behavior toward me. His ability to push me aside and treat me like a secondhand bag. Was it too much to want him to hang on to me?
The room spins as a heavy realization hits. I am just like my mom. Falling for someone who only cares about themselves and their own successes. It’s a harsh reality that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
“Are you okay?”
I take a deep breath and close the refrigerator door, losing my appetite. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Maddy looks at me with concern in her eyes. “Are you sure? You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’m just upset,” I admit. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
She doesn’t look convinced as I give her a small smile before returning to the couch. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to find comfort in the action. But it doesn’t do much to soothe my wounded heart.
There is a major difference between Mom’s situation and mine. I’m not pregnant.
My following thoughts make me want to vomit. Because if I were carrying Blake’s child, at least a part of him would belong to me forever. Growing up, I always felt guilty that my mom chose to keep me. That I was a burden. I never considered that it may have been what she truly wanted. She rarely spoke of my sperm donor, but when she did, there was a distant look in her eyes. Clearly, she had loved him, if only for a short time. Was it as much as I love Blake now? I’ll never know.
“What are you going to do?” Maddy’s question jars me to the present. Her eyes were pleading, begging me not to say what she knew I had to do.
“I’m going to accept the internship in Boston.”
* * *
It’slate into the night, and still no word from Blake. And that lack of communication sealed my fate.
“I’ve changed my flight,” I whisper, the glow of the screen casting shadows over my face. “Leaving the day after tomorrow instead of the twenty-second.”
Maddy’s voice nearly cracks. “I’ll ship your stuff to you in a few days from now.” The ache in her words almost shatters me.
“Thanks. Good thing I’m not exactly drowning in belongings.” I try to joke, but it’s like laughing in a void.
“This isn’t goodbye. We’re going to see each other soon. I’ll fly out this summer,” she insists, but it feels like a hollow promise.
“I’d love that.” I close my laptop and glance around our shared space. The weight of my decisions settles heavily on my shoulders, making it hard to breathe. Standing, reality hits me—I’m leaving everything. My school, my heart, my Maddy. It all feels like a dream-turned nightmare.
I know it’s the right move, yet it feels like a surrender.
“This is so hard,” I say, voice quivering.
