Page 60 of Still Missing You

“It broke my heart,” I say. “But I thought if I took myself out of the equation, you’d be free. You’d get your scholarship. You’d get out. You’d have the life you deserved.”

“And what about you?” Hunter asks.

I shrug helplessly. “I figured I’d survive. I always do, and in the end, I did okay.” I think about my café, my cabin in the woods. “Better than I probably had a right to.” I was just lucky to wander into the right café in the right town at the right time.

Silence stretches between us. Hunter’s hard gaze bores into me, and I struggle not to squirm.

I exhale. “I never stopped loving you.”

“Maybe, but tell me something.” He leans closer. “If I hadn’t asked, would you have told me?”

I open my mouth. Close it. “It happened so long ago.”

“Would. You. Have. Told me?”

I sigh and shake my head. “Probably not.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “That’s what I thought.” He balls up his napkin, tosses it onto the table next to his untouched meal, and stands. “I have to get out of here.”

He looks at me like he doesn’t recognize me. “Oh... sure... I’ll drive—”

“No, you stay. I need space.” He walks away, maneuvering between the tables and leaving me staring at his retreating back.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Hunter

Istride across the bar, ignoring the twinge in my knee. The room is suddenly too small. The air too thick. The noise too loud. Everyone too close. I need out.

I’m almost at the door when someone grips my arm and stops me. I turn, not surprised to see Dylan, his fingers curling into the sleeve of my coat, his desperate gaze locked with mine. I should’ve known he’d follow.

His words still hang between us, heavy and raw. Coach Vernon’s threats and the choice Dylan made without saying a fucking word. The choice he made for me.

My chest tightens until it hurts.

“Wait,” he says. “Please, just wait.”

I yank my arm free of his grip, and a middle-aged couple sitting at a nearby table glance our way, but I barely notice. “I can’t do this.”

Dylan blinks at me. “Hunter—”

I take a breath. It doesn’t help.

“No.” My voice comes out sharper than I intend, but the anger’s already there. I can’t pull it back. “I don’t get how you could decide what’s best for me without telling me and then just... walk away.”

His shoulders tense. “I was trying to protect you.”

“By lying?” I demand.

“I didn’t lie. I just—”

“You let me believe you didn’t want me.” My hands curl into fists. “You let me think I’d done something wrong.”

The hurt that flashes across his face hits hard, but I’m too wound up to slow down.

“You’ve always done that,” I continue. “You make these huge decisions without ever actually talking to me about them.”

“That’s not fair,” Dylan says quietly.