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“What do you mean? What is there to do?”
He sighs. “Listen, Dyl. You’re a smart girl. One who rarely lets obstacles get in the way of what she wants. How is this situation any different?”
“It’s different because it’s the NFL,” I retort.
“The Dylan I know wouldn’t let anyone tell her what to do. She makes her own rules, and everyone else falls in line.”
I smile at that.
“Just know that this doesn’t have to be the end of the road. You just have to find your way out of the maze using a different route.”
Tears well up in my eyes. “You’re my best friend for a reason, Ash. God, what would I do without you to pump me back up when I’m feeling overwhelmingly deflated?”
“The same thing you’d be doing without me. Kicking ass and finding ways to make shit right for yourself.”
He’s not wrong about that.
“But I’m about to head to bed. Two-a-days are back, and if I don’t get some rest, I’ll be useless as a concrete parachute.”
“Oof. Sounds dangerous.” I shudder.
“Oh, I can be,” he brags. “But let’s plan to meet up when I’m back in town. Maybe we can grab some ice cream at that old creamery we took Colin to?”
“That sounds perfect,” I say with a smile that’s more genuine than the ones I’ve been wearing for days.
After hanging up with Ashton, I’m left feeling utterly torn.
How can one be so heartbroken yet still care so deeply about someone? I wish love was simple. Easy. Carefree and fun. But no, it has to be complicated, painful, and a constant fight to hold on to what you’ve found.
My love for Lake isn’t like sand from the beach being slowly dragged back into his water. I often thought of myself drowning in the entity that is him. Suffocating beneath his pressure. But it wasn’t that at all. I’m his shore. The place beneath his surface that surrounds him, tethering him to my earth. Holding him safe. Providing him with that comfort he’s unknowingly sought.
He needs me more than I need him.
I decide to head into that meeting this week with guns blazing. If I want to be in this field, I’m going in headfirst with nothing swept beneath someone else’s rug.
Iwaketoasliver of light shooting onto the ceiling from my nightstand. It’s still dark in my room. The only thing illuminating the space is my phone screen. I slap a hand over it, ready to flip it over, when I bring it closer to my face. I squint as I attempt to focus on the message before me.
Lake: You upstairs?
My chest feels like it practically caves into itself. My stomach swirls with nerves and sudden anxiety over the two simple words he sent me.
Two words that could mean only one thing.
I sit up straight, re-reading the message. He sent it less than a minute ago. Did he mean to send this to me? Surely something strange happened here, an old message he accidentally sent? Or perhaps it was meant for another girl? I check the time, seeing it’s three in the morning. He can’t seriously be here right now. Is he?
I don’t want to go there, but the final thought in the back of my mind is that something terrible has happened. I have heard nothing about him since yesterday when he missed therapy, presumably because of me.
I text back that I am home and patiently watch my phone.
I see the three little dots appear, insinuating he’s typing, only to see them vanish a few seconds later. I lay my head back against my pillow, staring up at the ceiling.
What I don’t want is to be toyed with. He made it clear we couldn’t work together. He wanted this. The separation. I don’t want a back-and-forth game, if that’s what this is. I’m so in my head. I need to chill.
Checking the screen again, I see those three dots reappear. I wait as they continue bouncing in their own torturous way, the anxiety of what’s coming next making it hard to breathe properly. But before they come, they disappear entirely.
Confusion hits me at the same time as curiosity, and I lean over my bed to the window to take a peek down at the parking lot.
Sure enough, his truck is parked outside in one of the empty stalls. It’s running, but his lights are off and it’s too dark to see him inside of it in the dimly lit parking lot.
