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He hangs his head. “I thought… I wanted it to be the right time.”
I bury my face in my hands, unable to keep the tears from falling. “Why did you let me love you?” I whisper against my wet palms.
“Princess.” He pries my hands from my face as he drops to his knees.
I try to stop the tears, but I’m too weak. They keep falling, and my heart keeps breaking.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.
I push him away and swipe at the tears. “Keep your sorry, Hollis. I don’t want it.” I want to be worth it. I want to be his—to belong to him. To be his something real and true. I want him to fight for me, for us.
“Aurora.”
“You should leave.”
He doesn’t move, not right away. And I’m so close to losing it for real. “Now, please.” I don’t recognize my voice. It’s cold, detached, void of emotion.
He pushes to his feet. I keep my eyes on my hands, folded in my lap. It isn’t until I hear the soft snick of the door closing behind him that I grab the throw pillow next to me, bury my face in it, and sob my heart out.
CHAPTER 40
HAMMER
All I want to do is lie in bed and cry, but I don’t have time to wallow. My final independent project is due—including a presentation outlining my role in the Terror organization and execution of the gala—as well as two group projects. It doesn’t matter that I’m sleeping like shit and food tastes like cardboard. I have work that needs to be done, so my broken heart is forced to sit on the sideline until I have time to fall apart. School and the job with the Terror are all that matter now.
I’ve spent the past couple of days at the library. Mostly so I can avoid dealing with my life. Hollis has checked in twice to see how I’m doing. I haven’t responded. The truth is, I’m a mess. I’ve broken up with guys before and been broken up with, but none of them has hurt the way this does. I thought Hollis was my person. I thought we were starting on the road to forever, and now there’s this blank, hollow space in my chest where that dream used to be.
A coffee appears on the table as Jameson slides into the seat next to me. “Hey, Aurora. I figure you could use—” His smile drops, and his expression shifts to concern. “Shit. Are you okay?” He rummages around in the front pocket of his backpack and withdraws a pack of tissues. I touch my cheek and realize I’m crying.
“Oh my God. What the hell is wrong with me?” I accept the tissue and dab at my cheeks and eyes. Thank God for clear, waterproof mascara.
“We’re all under a lot of stress these days,” he offers.
Last week I learned Jameson had been offered grad school admission in BC and the program in Toronto. Ultimately, he accepted the offer out west.
“Yeah. I still don’t make a habit of crying in the library.” I shake off the emotions and try to compartmentalize.
“Is it school related? Can I help with anything?”
“It’s personal. Family and stuff.”
“I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really. It just makes me feel shitty.”
“That’s fair.” He reclines in his chair. “The gala looked like it was a huge success. I mean, based on the stuff I saw on social media. You got to meet Scarlet Reed. Like, wow.” He makes a mind-blown gesture. “Is she nice in real life?”
“Yeah, she is.” And she wants to steal the man I’m in love with. Maybe she will now that he’s decided I’m not ready for a relationship. “I wanted it to be the right time.” I blink away the look on Hollis’s face, like he’d realized exactly how not ready I was. I thought I could handle it. I wanted to be able to, but based on how terrible I feel, maybe he’s right after all. I can’t have it all. No one can.
I drag myself out of my head. “How about you? How was your event?”
“Good. Great. We raised like fifty thousand, which is kind of peanuts compared to the gala. I think I read you raised close to a million for all these charities?”
“We had some big donations from some heavy hitters. Fifty thousand is amazing. You should feel great about that.”
Thankfully, two more members of our group show up, and we get down to work. The ache in my chest is unbearable, but at least I have something to focus on besides my battered heart.
On the way home, my mom calls. I’ve put off a conversation, too raw to deal with anything but my own feelings.
