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Hot tears well up in my eyes again, but I refuse to let them fall. “And I love you…so goddamn much.”
Her tear-streaked eyes gaze up at me, and I nearly crumble. But I won’t. Not now, not when she needs strength, not when she needs me to be who she fell in love with—the captain of a team that doesn’t know how to give up.
“I just need you to promise me one thing,” she whispers against my chest.
“Anything.” Because even now, at the end of us, I’d do anything for her.
“Don’t forget me,” she says, looking back at me with those pleading green eyes.
I cup her face, brushing away her tears with my thumbs. “Never. I could never forget you, Amanda Hoyt. You’re the best damn thing that ever happened to me.”
And there it is—our harsh reality staring at us with cold, unfeeling eyes. We both want something we can’t provide for each other—a future together without compromising our individual dreams. It’s a cruel irony that our love story ends where it started.
“I love you too,” I whisper before pressing a final, lingering kiss against her lips—a goodbye and a promise in one.
When we pull apart, I give her one last quick peck, and I force myself to walk away.
Fuck, this hurts.
My throat tightens with longing as I ache to taste her one last time, but my body is too weak. If I cave to that temptation, I won’t ever go or let her move.
Yet, as I turn to leave, her shattered expression guts me, and my resolve wavers. She remains seated on the sofa, her shoulders slumped and fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. I keep moving forward, wondering if I’m making a huge mistake.
Closing the door behind me, I press my palm against the cold metal and let the swirling emotions consume me. It’s almost impossible to believe I was on top of the world just one week ago and had everything I wanted. How quickly it fell, leaving me with nothing of significance.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE
AMANDA
I typein the gate number and sit on the outside bench while waiting for Grandma to pull up. She surprised me after I had texted to let her know I arrived. I planned to catch an Uber, but she wouldn’t have any part of it. I’m curious about how she got her car fixed.
I watch as the vehicles pick up their loved ones, all the while I nurse a broken heart. I’m making the right choice. We would’ve broken up eventually now that Blake’s life is chained to his family’s company.
But what if I had stayed? And then chosen to remain on the West Coast? I love it there. I don’t make it to the beach often, but I could. However, the same argument could be made here. It’s not as if we don’t have a nearby beach, but the West Coast has a different vibe. For starters, it’s warmer.
I wrap my coat around me tighter.
But I have my grandma and the goals I set so long ago. And I can’t forget about my financial situation. Coming here helps secure the rest of my schooling and almost guarantees admission into med school. That’s the important part and makes the most logistical sense.
Then why does it feel so wrong?
The familiar white Toyota Camry pulls up, and my heart practically leaps. But as much as I am happy to see her, I can’t shake the heartbreak. It’s too raw. Too new.
I place the luggage in the trunk, and we take off.
“Grandma, how did you get the car fixed?”
She gives me a side-eye. “Blake never told you?”
“No.” Boston’s skyline comes into view as we pull away from the airport.
“He wired the money to me after he got back home. He’s such a sweet boy.”
“Grandma, I was saving to get you the money. I could’ve sent it to you.”
“I know you could’ve. But you work too much as it is now. He had the means and wanted to help.”
“We don’t need handouts.” Even though we clearly do. Our entire life has been one struggle after another. How else would she have gotten the car fixed? But I could’ve sent her the money. My account would’ve taken a significant hit, but it was doable. The help didn’t have to come from Blake Morton.
