Page 77 of Within These County Lines

I forced a smile. “Should we start dinner by saying what we’re thankful for?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said.

“You first,” I instructed.

“Hmm.” He tapped his chin, pretending to be thoughtful. “I am thankful I get to spend a few more months with my boyfriend before he moves away and breaks up with me.”

My nostrils flared. “Is that supposed to be funny? Because it’s not.”

He shoveled another bite into his mouth. “I’m just saying what’s true.”

“I’m trying to make this work.”

“Whatever you say.” He shrugged. “Do you even love me?”

I pushed my chair back. “You know what? I’ve lost my appetite. I’m over this.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

I yanked my arm away when he reached for me.

“Why are you so annoying?” I yelled. My napkin flew from my hand across the room. “You just had to ruin this, didn’t you?” I stormed out the door.

I didn’t even get to eat a single bite.

I was so angry that I forgot about the missing second tread on his front steps. My foot hit air and I landed face-first on the concrete.

That was us for the rest of senior year. The same fight on repeat. The worst song on the radio playing over and over until I wanted to scream.

And in June, I did.

We both did. Louder than we ever had before.

“I’m done!” I yelled in his bedroom. “It’s too much to think about anymore. I’ve given you enough chances, and I’m done. For good.”

Murray threw his arms in the air. “Why did you have to change our plan?”

“We never had a plan!” My voice cracked from the weight of everything. “You just made one up, and when it wasn’t what you wanted, you treated me like shit!”

“Well, you still haven’t apologized, so I don’t need to either.”

I let out an empty laugh. “Apologize for what? Getting into college?”

He shook his head, sipping a beer beside his desk. “How can you throw away three good years—”

“Two.” I crossed my arms. “I wouldn’t count this past one.”

He stepped forward and grabbed my shoulders. His fingers squeezed too tight. “I think we can work through this,” he pleaded. “We’re not like my parents or everyone else at school. We haven’t cheated on each other. We don’t fight—”

I flinched. “We don’t fight?” My lips parted in disbelief. “I wish you cheated. I wish we fought worse than we do. It would make this whole decision so much easier.”

My words cracked his expression. Something dark flashed across his face. He ripped his hands away and hurled his beer bottle against the wall. Glass exploded, scattering like a broken mirror unable to reflect what we had been anymore. A shard bounced back and sliced my forehead. Blood rushed down my temple.

I staggered forward, thinking maybe he’d help me. Maybe he’d finally feel for me like he used to.

Instead, he shoved me. Hard. I flew backward into the hall. My heel caught on the rug.

“Get out of here!” he yelled, shoving me again. I tumbled down the stairs, head over heels, the world flipping upside down. “I never want to see you again!”