Page 111

I found my own way home.

He left. He didn’t wait. He didn’t dread the seven-hour drive with me or try to work things out or give me a chance to fix this. He left, and he did it alone rather than spend one more second in my presence. It hits me like a fist to the gut.

I stand in the middle of the lobby holding this note, and I understand what I’ve done. I haven’t just lost him for now. I’ve lost him completely. Forever.

I know I don’t deserve him. I have to let him go before I ruin him because I love him. I’ll always love Cameron. Only Cameron.

I’m lying in my bed at the frat, staring at the ceiling, and the silence is so heavy I can barely breathe beneath it. I pull the bedspread up to my chin and close my eyes, but all I see is Cameron’s face in the darkness of the car. The way he looked at me when I said Thom’s name. Like I’d reached into his chest and ripped out his heart.

Which I suppose I did.

My phone sits next to me, silent. I keep waiting for it to light up. For Cameron to call, to text, to tell me he hates me or that he understands or that he needs me. Nothing comes. Just silence.

I roll onto my side and stare at the wall.

My father’s voice is still ringing in my ears. You fucking failure. You had no right to bring that degenerate into our home.

If I don’t distance myself from Cameron, if I don’t crawl back to my parents and beg forgiveness, I’ll be disowned. The thought makes me want to laugh or vomit. I’m not sure which.

What does disowned even mean?

No inheritance. Fine. I don’t give a fuck about the money. I never have. But no education. No housing. No car. No allowance.

I’ll have nothing. I sit up in bed, my heart pounding.

Without my parents, I would have absolutely nothing.

I’ve never had a job. Never paid rent. Never bought groceries or paid a utility bill or figured out health insurance. I don’t even know how much things cost. How much is rent? How much is food? How do people live without any of this?

I press my palms to my eyes and force myself to breathe.

I earned my place at Hayworth. My grades and test scores are mine. I worked for them. But I was already in a place of privilege to even be considered. I never had to worry about anything except performing well enough to meet expectations.

And now I’m supposed to give all of that up.

For Cameron?

I love him. The words feel like they’re splitting me open, tearing through my chest like something trying to claw its way out. But loving him means letting him go. Because I’m a disease. I poison everything I touch. He’s too good for what I’d do to him. His future is too bright. And I’m too broken to be anything but the thing that destroys it all. Tears blur my vision, my throat closes. I jam my face into the pillow to swallow the sounds, to contain the damage, but I’m already breaking.

The vivid memory comes out of nowhere.

I’m eighteen at St. Silas, putting away a book on a high shelf in the library’s back corner. An isolated nook where I could go when I wanted to disappear. I heard footsteps behind me, but I didn’t turn. I assumed it was another student looking for privacy to study.

Then a voice with that thick Scottish burr called me.

“Ashford. Ye always hide back here, don’t ye?”

I turned.

Thom MacLeod stood there with his hands in his pockets and an infuriating smirk on his face. Dark-red hair, green eyes bright with mischief. Freckles dusted across his nose and cheeks, making him look boyish and almost innocent.

Until he opened his mouth.

“What do you want?” I asked.

We were teammates on the rugby pitch. We shoved each other around, drank together after matches, existed in that space of aggressive male camaraderie that never went deeper than surface-level banter. But the way he was looking at me now felt odd.

“Just wanted tae see if ye were all right,” he said, stepping closer. “Ye’ve been quiet lately. Thought maybe ye needed a friend.”