Even so, my heart hurts. It’s hard to let go of someone who’s been such a big part of
your life for so long. It’s even harder when that person refuses to let you go.
Sighing, I hurry down the steps toward the cobblestone path that winds through
campus. Usually I take the time to admire the scenery—the gorgeous old buildings, the
wrought-iron benches and massive shade trees—but tonight I just want to sprint back to
my dorm, pull the covers over my head, and shut out the world. Luckily, I can totally do
that because my roommate Hannah is away this weekend, which means she won’t be
around to lecture me about the emotional perils of wallowing in my misery.
She hadn’t done much lecturing last night, though. Nope, what she did was step up to
the plate and knock the best-friend-ever role out of the park. The moment I’d walked
through the door after leaving Sean, Hannah had been waiting in our common room with
a carton of ice cream, a box of Kleenex, and two bottles of red wine, and she’d
proceeded to stay up half the night passing me tissues and listening to me babble
incoherently.
Breakups suck. I feel like such a failure. No, I feel like a quitter. The last piece of
advice my mom gave me before she died was to never give up on love. Actually, she’d
drilled that into me long before she’d ever gotten sick. I don’t know all the details, but it
was no secret around my house that my parents’ marriage had been on the rocks more
than once during their eighteen years together. And they’d powered through it. They’d
worked at it.
Every time I think about walking out on Sean yesterday, my stomach grows queasy.
Maybe I should have fought harder for us. I mean, I know he loves me—
If he loved you, he wouldn’t have given you an ultimatum, a gruff voice assures
me. You did the right thing.
My throat tightens as I recognize the voice in my head. It belongs to my father, who
happens to be my biggest champion. In his eyes, I can do no wrong.
It’s too bad Sean isn’t able to see me through that lens.
My phone buzzes when I’m five minutes from Bristol House, where I share a two-
bedroom suite with Hannah.
Shit. Another text from Sean.
And double shit because it says:
I’m so sorry for swearing at u, bb. I didn’t mean it. I’m just upset. U mean the world to me. I hope u
know that.
A second text pops up: Coming over after class. We’ll talk.
I halt in my tracks, a jolt of panic spiraling through me. I’m not afraid of Sean, at
least not in the physical sense. I know he would never lay a hand on me or fly into a
manic rage. But I’m afraid of his ability to sweet-talk me. He’s so good at it. All he has
to do is call me baby and flash that adorable smile, and I’m a goner.
