Page 69 of The Challenge

“Every single one of them. Does that surprise you?”

“It does. I can’t believe it.”

“How could I throw them out?”

I hesitated to ask, “Did you save the letter, too?”

“No, I eventually threw that away. I knew it wasn’t really how you felt. But I did take one part of it with me.”

“What part was that?”

He smirked. “The part where you called me a stray dog.”

My jaw dropped all over again. “Wait…the song? That was from me? I called you that?”

“You did.” His mouth curved into a smile. “That reference always stuck with me, so I thought I’d have a little fun with it.”

“Do your friends know you took part of my drunk nervous breakdown and turned it into a song?”

He shook his head. “They wouldn’t appreciate it like you could, and I didn’t write the song to humiliate you. I never imagined I’d be performing it in front of you, or that you’d ever hear it, for that matter.”

“Why did you write it, then?”

“It was therapeutic.” He shrugged. “Stray dog was probably the only thing you called me in that letter that gave me pause and made me reflect on myself, even if that wasn’t your intention.”

I wracked my brain, still drawing a blank on the letter. “What was the context?”

“You said I was like a stray dog because I let people care about me, yet I never fully belonged to them, never fully returned the affection. It was true, to a point. I’d kept the people I cared about at arm’s length to protect myself from getting hurt, especially at that time in my life.”

I chuckled. To think my drunken rant had actually led to legitimate self-reflection.

I wrapped my hand around his forearm. “Well, the song came out great. But for the record, I don’t think you’re a stray dog. I can’t imagine how I came up with that analogy.”

The room went quiet as we sat in the dark. Then he finally said, “I’m sorry I hurt you, even if I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“A part of you still thinks I threw you away.” His gaze drifted. “I was a wreck when you left for school. I’d never been so damn depressed in my life. You were my best friend. But I still maintain that letting you go at the time was the right thing, maybe not for me, but for you.”

“Why didn’t you at least tell me how you felt?”

“Because I knew you. And I knew you would stay if I admitted to having real feelings. The best thing for you was to get out of here. And it was the right decision.”

“Why would it have been so bad if I’d stayed? I didn’t need to go to Northwestern.”

“Yes, you did. You couldn’t have thrown away that scholarship. And look at you now. You’re successful, making your own hours, and able to work from anywhere. If I had crossed the line back then, you might not have left. You would’ve commuted to a state school nearby like I did, and you might’ve been stuck here in Dry River forever. I didn’t want that for you as much as…” He hesitated. “…as much as I wanted you.”

“I wanted you more than Northwestern,” I admitted, my heart feeling ready to burst.

He shook his head. “You think that, but you would’ve resented me for holding you back. When I met Effie’s mother, I was still hung up on you, Chloe. But I had myself convinced you weren’t ever coming back and that waiting around for you would be pointless. So I locked away my feelings and moved on. And well, you know how that turned out.” He reached into the box and sifted through the notes until he faced one of them toward me. It was the sticky that broke us.

I took it from him, feeling my emotions surge. I’d loved him in secret for so long, and at the time couldn’t imagine anyone else taking my virginity. I remembered how long it took me to finally write those words, to garner the courage to ask him.

“Why are you showing this to me?” I asked, still feeling a bit ashamed.

“Because I think there’s a part of you that still looks at this as a rejection, and I want you to get that out of your head.”

I exhaled. On a logical level, I knew he’d had good reasons for not accepting this challenge, but he was right. I still felt a pang of rejection.