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I stare at the to-go cup on my dresser. It’s been empty since this morning, not even a half hour after it showed up, but I haven’t thrown it out yet. I always struggle to throw them out.
Since I cut the guys off, I’ve gotten a delivery every single morning—a hot apple cider from the cafe downtown. I never order them, but I don’t need to ask who they’re from. I know.
I can’t tell if they’re doing it as an apology or as a way to make sure I’ll never forget them. Every time I look at the damn to-go cups, all the pain comes back, just as fresh as if it was yesterday.
It’s been a little over two months, and the regret still lingers. I thought by now, I’d be happy with the choice I made. With distance, I’d gain clarity, right? I’d realize that I was delusional—that they manipulated me.
Instead, doubt prods at me with everything I do. My grades have suffered, but only enough to bring me down to a temporary B in certain classes. I’ll get them up again.
I wonder how the guys are doing.
Have they moved on to other girls already? Do they still think of me as often as I think of them? Are they okay?
I roll my eyes. I should be happy I hurt them, not worrying about them. They’re mybullies,for fuck’s sake.
And you love them.
“No,” I grit out, “I don’t.”
The sound of someone pulling into the driveway piques my interest. My parents are at a party, and they said it’d run late. I wasn’t expecting them back until around midnight, but maybe they decided to come home early.
“Athelia,” someone yells just as a car door slams shut.
Someone male.
Someone who sounds like…
No.
“Athelia,” he shouts again. “Athelia, get down here.”
Half of me wants to ignore him, but I can’t. I need to see him, if only to assuage my worries.
Downstairs, Kellan is pounding on the front door and ringing the doorbell nonstop. When he sees me in the window, he finally stops.
“What?” I ask.
“Open the damn door,” he yells.
My fingers hover over the lock. “Why?”
“Just listen to me.Please.”
Against my better judgment, I unlock the door. Something about the way Kellan said that has more worry pricking at my heart. He sounds scared—desperate, even. I’ve never seen him get anywhere close to either of those.
“You have five minutes,” I say after letting him in.
He doesn’t waste a single second. “It’s Cal. He’s… not doing well.”
Unease spreads through my stomach. Out of all the guys, Cal is the one I’ve been worried about the most. I left him right in the middle of the hardest time of year for him. I knew it’d hurt more—knew it could possibly make him downspiral—but I had to.
Even if I let my feelings for them develop, we were always destined to crash and burn.
You’re worth finding a man who’d be horrified at the thought of hurting you, no matter what.
“Well, I’m not doing too great, either,” I say bitterly. Is that seriously it? That’s what he came down here for? I reach for the door to kick him out, but he grabs my arm.
“He almost killed himself, Thelia.”
