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It’s not like we’re together.
So what if all I want is to bury myself in him and forget the last few months ever happened?
Okay, that’s a lie. Because if it weren’t for the last year, Prescott and I never would have been together. And I would go through this hell as many times as necessary if it meant I got to be with Prescott Wentworth. No matter how short that time is.
“Are you just going to let him walk away?”
My brother’s soft words snap me out of my thoughts.
“I thought you didn’t approve of us being together.”
“I didn’t approve of you being hurt.”
I give him a pointed look.
“Or you two sneaking behind my back and lying to me. But the point is…” Nixon glances toward Prescott’s retreating back. “That man loves you, Jade. I’ve known him for four years now, and I’ve never seen him love anybody the way he does you.”
“He walked away.”
“And so did you.” Nixon’s finger slips under my chin, tilting my head up. “You both did what you had to do to survive, but now it’s over. Knowing him, he won’t make the first move, you’ll have to be the one to do it. So I ask you again, Smalls. Are you just going to let him walk away?”
I turn my head toward Prescott’s rigid back. He hasn’t gotten that far away yet. If I want to stop him, I have to do it now.
Could I do it? Could I just let him walk away? Let us both move on with our lives. Wouldn’t that be for the best? We’ve been down this road, and it didn’t work. Repeatedly. There was always something standing in our way. Is this what our life will be? An obstacle after obstacle? What if, down the road, the cancer comes back? It’s possible. Yes, he’s going to be an oncology doctor and…
“Son of a bitch!”
Nixon startles back at my outburst. “What now?”
“He didn’t open the damn letter!”
And then it hits me. Grabbing my backpack, I pull out one of the tickets and shove it into my back pocket before tossing the bag at Nixon. “Wait here.”
Then I run.
My legs feel heavy, and my breathing turns ragged after merely a few steps, but I push through the pain as I hurry to catch up to him.
“Prescott!” I yell.
Heads turn in my direction. People probably wonder who’s the lunatic who’s running like crazy holding the top of her head, but ask me if I care.
Prescott turns around, his eyes wide when he sees me. I come to a stop, bending forward, my hands gripping my knees so I can catch my breath.
“Your l-letter,” I pant, pushing upright so I can face him.
His brows pull together. “What?”
“Your letter,” I repeat. “You didn’t open your letter.”
I watch as the realization dawns on him.
“MCATs, right.” He rubs his hand over his jaw.
“I answered the phone. You have to open it.”
I wasn’t about to let him get out of this. He wanted to make a deal. Well, now it was his time to pay up.
But more than that, I didn’t want him to walk around not knowing the answer. I’ve been doing that for the last few days, and I knew just how excruciating not knowing was.
