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“I don’t care about that,” I choke out. My arms pebble with goosebumps as the anger finally burns out and is replaced with an overwhelming grief that is crippling. I rub my hands along my arms in an attempt to keep the numbness at bay.
“I’m a piece of shit kid, Say. Do you know how guilty I feel? How selfish? You’re in love with a selfish bastard. You’re too good for me. You’ve always been too good for me. You deserve much more than the life you’d live if you waited for me. I can’t ask you to wait. It’s not fai
r to you.”
“That’s not true,” I argue. “And it’s not your choice to make. It’s mine.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he corrects me, though I can see how much it pains him. I look up to see a different boy in front of me than the one I fell in love with.
“Don’t,” I plead. “Don’t break my heart, Owen. Please. I’m begging you.” Raising my hand to my mouth, I chew on the pad of my thumb as I watch the future I’d dreamed of slip through my fingers.
“I love the shit out of you, Say. But I promise that one day, you’ll find someone else who will be able to give you the life you deserve, not the shitty one you’d be destined to have if you were stuck with my sorry ass.”
I turn to stone as he presses his lips against my forehead for the last time. The heat from his mouth brings an onslaught of memories to the surface, hitting harder than a sledgehammer. Our first date. Our first kiss. The night I gave him everything. The night he promised we’d make it through anything. The night he got the call that he’d received a full-ride scholarship across the country, along with a position on the football team that promised he’d be the star. I remember everything. And I feel it all too. Until the pressure of his lips disappears.
The numbness I’d been keeping at bay finally overwhelms me, and I welcome it with open arms.
“I love you, Say,” he repeats on a breath. “I’m so sorry.”
“If you were sorry, you wouldn’t let me go,” I whisper.
“Say––”
“Bye, Owen. I really hope that when you look back at this moment, you’ll realize how badly you screwed up and that it’s the biggest mistake you’ll ever make.”
I stomp up the steps toward my front door and slam it behind me, closing the door on the love of my life and the future I’d thought we’d build together.
Because it’s obvious I was the only one who was willing to fight for it.
1
Saylor
“So…how was the first day of school, Miss Swenson?” Skye asks as I push the door to our home open. She moved in after she found out her husband was lying to her. He’d manipulated her into helping him receive his inheritance by marrying him––which she knew––but he left out a few key details. Turns out, he’s the selfish bastard she’d initially pegged him for. And it hit her. Hard.
She’s been my roommate ever since, and while the company has been amazing, it’s been torture to see first-hand how miserable Skye is. She even sent him divorce papers, but the giant asshole is apparently out of the country and can’t sign them. Which means she’s stuck being married to him for now, and I can’t even imagine how helpless that must make her feel.
It sucks having your heart broken, and to witness it happening up close and personal to your little sister is a whole new level.
But it’s been nice having her here even if I’ve had to bite my tongue more times than I can count to stop myself from saying, “I told you so.”
Because if there’s anything beneficial from my past, it’s that I learned the truth about love at the ripe old age of eighteen. It isn’t real. Not for most of us. It’s like winning the lottery. Sure, a few people hit the jackpot like my sister, Sway, and her fiancé, Anthony. But the rest of us? We’re stuck throwing money down the drain in the form of blind dates and stolen moments with strangers who won’t call the next morning.
I sigh, then collapse onto the couch next to Skye and answer her question. “It was fine.”
“Liar. Tell me all the details, Say.”
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”
“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you. Was he there?”
He. As in my very own He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Heaven forbid we actually say the bastard’s name. Still, I know exactly who she’s referring to, just like Harry Potter whenever someone would talk about his nemesis, Lord Voldemort.
At least Harry wasn’t attracted to his adversary, though.
I, on the other hand, can’t help it. The guy is a football god. Or he was until his knee exploded on national television. But even then, he’s been a coveted bachelor with devilish good looks and a magnetic personality that’s opened more doors than I can count.
Owen.
