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She turns on me. “Go. Come back to me when you’re ready, because I think you’re close. We could be so good together. So good for each other. But I’m not going to wait forever. The clock starts now. Think you’ll figure it all out in time?”
“I don’t know,” I croak, needing to be honest with her.
Her eyes close and she leans her forehead against the steering wheel for a moment, like what I just said tore her completely apart.
It probably did.
“That’s what I thought you’d say.” She waves a dismissive hand. “You need to leave.”
I get out of the car, leaning my head back in before I shut the door. “You’re stronger than you think.”
I don’t know why I said that, but I wanted her to know that she doesn’t need me to be any stronger than she already is. She was a badass with that speech she just gave me, even if it fucking hurt to hear her say the words.
“So are you,” she murmurs. “Too bad you can’t see just how strong we’d be together.”
THIRTY-THREE
BLAIR
One monthlater
Whoever saidtime heals all wounds is a fucking liar.
The wounds Camden Fields left are like open, gaping ones that I can’t repair. They only get uglier the longer I go without him. What makes it worse?
He’s everywhere. Everyone’s talking about him. Them. The football team. They’ve gone on to the playoffs. They’re projected to be in the championships, and I wouldn’t doubt for a minute that they’re going to win. Knox tells me Cam’s never played better—the entire team is in top form. They haven’t lost a single game yet.
They’re breaking school records, causing a commotion in town and on campus. In the entire state. They recently set up banners on the light poles on campus with photos of all the best players—my brother. Cam. Especially Cam. It pains me to walk around campus and see his handsome face glowering down at me, a football clutched in his hand. Even the banners where he’s wearing his helmet, I can still see his eyes. Like he’s watching me everywhere I go.
I hate it.
I love it.
He still hasn’t reached out.
The clock is ticking, but time’s almost up. I can’t wait much longer like some pathetic loser, who’s hoping the idiot love of her life will see the light and realize he needs her by his side. I’ve confessed all to Rita and Cheyenne, and while they’re supportive and give me good advice, they also both think I’m giving him way too much time.
“I would’ve fucked someone else by now to forget him. Get back at him,” Rita admitted to me last night, when we were all hanging out in the living room together and passing around a bottle of Peppermint Schnapps.
Why were we voluntarily drinking that again? It’s like chugging straight mouthwash.
“Rita, stop,” Cheyenne admonished, and all I could do was stare at her, trying to imagine myself with someone else.
I couldn’t. Just the idea made me nauseous.
The majority of their football games the last four weeks have been away games, which was the perfect excuse for me not to attend. Joanna asked a few times if I wanted to tag along with her and Natalie. I felt bad for turning her down, but I couldn’t do it. I just…couldn’t sit there and cheer them on, knowing I couldn’t actually talk to him afterward. And I wasn’t about to approach him either. This is all on him. The ball is in his court, so to speak.
I don’t know what he’s been up to beyond football, and I refuse to talk about him with Knox. Not that my brother ever brings him up. We barely talk anyway, considering he’s always with Joanna, spending every free moment he has with her.
Honestly? I don’t blame him. I would do the same thing with a certain someone, if he’d only get his head out of his ass.
I’m currently sitting in the living room, contemplating getting drunk again like we did a couple of nights ago. Rita is taking a shower. Cheyenne is making a salad for us for dinner, and while I said yes to her offer only a few minutes ago, I’m not really that hungry.
Pretty sure I’ve lost at least ten pounds on thehe broke my heartdiet I’m currently on.
Cheyenne eventually enters the living room, handing me a silver bowl filled with the salad she made and a fork. I take it from her gratefully, saying thank you before I ask, “Hey, is there anymore alcohol in this place?”
She settles into the overstuffed chair across from where I’m sitting on the couch. “No. That’s why we polished off that nasty peppermint Schnapps last night. It was all we had left.”
