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But I can’t know, because Ethan doesn’t want me, and I’m not supposed to want him. I’m supposed to be breaking his heart, and instead he’s breaking mine.
And oh shit! How am I supposed to break his heart now?
He doesn’t want me.
Which means he doesn’t love me.
Which means Ican’tbreak his heart, and I’m gonna fail and Aimee will kick me out of the house. I’ll be homeless, penniless, and have no way of getting the education I need to fulfill my dream of becoming a sports agent.
Yes, I’m spiraling, but what the fuck else am I supposed to do?
Thumping the mattress again, I fist the cover and give in to the tears, closing my eyes and letting them trickle down my cheeks.
Why did Dad leave us?
Why’d he turn his back on me?
The man I knew when I was a kid would never force me into this situation. He was the only one who understood me. He never tried to turn me into something I wasn’t. I would have sworn black and blue that he loved me just the way I was.
But he didn’t.
He walked out that door, and I never heard from him again. Mom told us he’d moved on with another family and we were part of his past now.
“He doesn’t want us. He doesn’t want to see you girls. It’s over,” Mom had said.
Because we’re not worth fighting for.I’mnot worth fighting for.
And I just really need to accept that and stop trying so fucking hard all the time.
There’s nothing wrong with being a lone wolf.
Rolling onto my side, I curl into a ball and let the tears silently fall onto my pillow.
Nothing wrong with it at all.
CHAPTER34
ETHAN
I couldn’t stop thinking about Mikayla last night. She didn’t return any of my calls or texts, and I have to find her this morning. I need to make this right. I’ve never been one to obsess over a girl. I’m not the guy who waits by the phone. But Mikayla’s shutout is killing me, and I’m not gonna let her get away with it.
We need to talk about what happened last night. I don’t give a shit if she doesn’t want to. Last night cannot be the end of us. Not with Dad’s words ringing in my brain. Picking up my pace, I jog toward Luxon Hall. I don’t have Mikayla’s schedule, but I managed to sweet-talk one of the Sig Be freshmen girls into telling me Mikayla had an Intro to Marketing class this morning. She giggled and blushed and quickly spilled the beans, and I took off, shouting, “Thank you!” over my shoulder as I ran.
I don’t want to miss her, so I sprint up the stairs and spot her through the glass doors as she files out of the classroom with a bunch of other students.
“Mick!” I raise my hand to grab her attention.
She stops, looking like a deer in headlights for a second before rolling her eyes and turning her back to me.
I weave through the crowd and quickly catch up to her, grabbing her arm.
“Lemme go,” she murmurs, and I do, but I don’t slow my pace and am soon keeping up with her little steps without any trouble.
She glances up at me again, rolls her eyes, and finally huffs, “What? What do you want?”
“I need to talk to you.”
Jerking to a stop, she crosses her arms and glares up at me. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but when a girl ignores your calls and doesn’t reply to your texts, that’s a pretty strong indicator that she doesn’t want to talk to you.”
