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Chapter Fifty-One
Athelia
It takes me an hour longer than normal to get home. Two times, I have to pull over to bawl my eyes out. I put my notebook on my front seat so I could flip through it and read my list, but it barely helps.
Can’t I just forgive them? Can’t that be enough?
You know it can’t be.
Even if I were to try to give the guys my all as-is, it’d never work. How could I look past the blatant imbalance of power? Not because there are three of them, but because of all the pain they caused me. Mind-blowing sex and caring gestures only go so far. The resentment would bleed in eventually, and by then, it’d be too late.
By the time I’m walking in my parents’ front door, all I want to do is eat a big bowl of ice cream and sleep for at least twelve hours. My parents notice something is off the second they see me.
“I’m okay,” I say before the oncoming deluge of questions. “The drive was just really stressful because of the snow.”
Not entirely untrue, although the interstate was perfectly clear.
“Glad you made it home safe.” Mom pulls me into a hug, and it feels so good I almost start crying again.
“You sure there’s not something more bugging you?” Dad asks as he takes my bag from me.
“Positive.” I give him what I’m sure is an unconvincing smile. “Do we have ice cream?”
Mom beams at me. “Of course. Got your favorite.”
“Oh, thank god,” I groan.
“Why don’t you get yourself some,” Dad suggests. “I’ll grab your stuff.”
“Thanks.”
In the kitchen, I dish myself a large helping of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and practically cover it with chocolate syrup. After what I’ve been through, I deserve it.
While Mom does the dishes, I text Haven and the guys. All four of them respond almost immediately, but I only message Haven back. Now that the guys know I’ve made it, they won’t think I died in a car crash or something.
“So,” Dad says once he’s brought all my stuff in. “Why are youreallymoving back home for spring semester? I thought you liked it at Pemberton.”
I started the process of transferring to Pemberton’s online program almost as soon as I made up my mind, but I waited until after Thanksgiving break to talk to my parents about it. I didn’t want them letting anything slip to the guys.
When I told my parents I wanted to move back, I told them about one of my professors dying and that it felt weird to be therenow. It’s barely the truth, and neither of them bought it, but I thought they were going to let it slide.
Apparently not.
Sighing, I stab at my ice cream with my spoon. “I just got really overwhelmed. Professor Kammes’s death hit harder than I thought it would, too. I think a change of scenery will help.”
“What about the boys?” Mom asks. “And Haven?”
“I’ll miss them,” I say, “but they all understand.”
My parents try to pry more out of me, but I’m not sure I’m ready to tell them that I’m going to end things with the guys. They’ll ask so many questions, and I haven’t come up with a story yet.
Dad is exhausted from work, as usual, so he heads to bed early. I curl up on the couch with Mom, and we start scrolling through Christmas rom-coms, but nothing interests me.
I contemplate getting another bowl of ice cream just to feel something, but my stomach is too full.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asks again.
“Nothing,” I insist. “I’m just tired. Senior year has taken a lot out of me.”
