Page 20 of More Than My Hometown

“Because I want more than this!” I throw my arms out wide, gesturing to everything surrounding us. Hickory Hills, Georgia, small-town life in general, all of it. “I want to go on adventures. And I want you there with me.”

“Why?”

Wh…what? How can he ask that?

“Because I want you, Ewan.”

He was stock-still underneath me, no part of him moving even a millimeter. If it weren’t for the fact that I could feel his exhale, I’d worry he was dead.

“Not if you want me to leave, you don’t.”

My heart stopped. My stomach plummeted and the entire room spun, but the most important part was that my heart stopped.

“Excuse you?”

Shifting underneath me, Ewan picked me up and placed me on the cushion next to him before standing up. The look on his face was placid and plain, his eyes full of hurt, making me want to reach out and comfort him. Except he was causing the same pain in return.

“I can’t leave here. My life is here. I have obligations to my family. To Hayes.”

“Can’t or won’t?” I challenged, my heart starting to shatter.

“Does it matter?”

“It does. It matters to me, Ewan. If you don’t want me, if you don’t want a life together⁠—”

“So, you’re going? No matter what my answer?” The hurt in his voice sliced through me like a knife through butter.

I nodded. “That’s my plan. But I want you to come with me. I want us to be together.”

There, I said it.

“Then you should go.”

He turned away from me, leaving the pieces of my heart skittering across the floor like broken glass.

“What about you? What about our chance at—” I choked out.

“This town is my life, Maisey—with or without you in it.”

This town is my life, Maisey—with or without you in it…

Fuck, how those words haunt me. No, that’s not true. It’s not those words that haunt me. It’s my lack of response to them.

It’s knowing that instead of following him out to the garage—where he always went to start tinkering with something as a way to get space from his family—and forcing the conversation, I sat there. I didn’t go after him. I didn’t tell him half the things I had planned on. Including those three not so little words.

I can’t even begin to imagine how different my life would look if I’d done that. If I’d marched right out there and screamed at the top of my lungs, “I love you, Ewan Porter Hayes! And I know you love me too!” But I didn’t. Instead I slunk back home, accepted the job, and packed my bags.

A week later I rolled down his driveway, told him I was headed to Turkey, and hugged him goodbye.

And because of that, I’m sitting here now, dunking Pringles in Nutella.

The pitter-patter of the rain picks up again, ever so slightly, but it’s enough to knock me out of my headspace. Enough to make me realize that tears running down my cheeks are real and current, not solely part of my memory.

Maybe I do need to text Emily back. Or even call her. Have her come over. Tell her to bring Alice and Rose while she’s at it, and then I can word vomit this all out, getting it out of my system to people who will not only understand, but maybe have some advice.

Pushing up off the couch, I groan, my body not happy with my lack of movement for the last few hours. That doesn’t stop me from scooping up a bite of the pie though, letting the chocolatey flavor settle on my tongue as I stretch.

I tap open my texts, noticing that I have a second from Emily that I missed along the way. This one just as smart-assy as the first.