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“Yeah, you’ve got a lot of experience in leaving, don’t you? Do you need my parents to make an excuse for you this time, too?”
I run my hands over my face and bite back the anger bubbling up inside me, my lizard brain desperate to call her out on the hypocrisy, for making me believe she didn’t think differently of me, making me think that she could love me despite everything.
When I open my eyes, she’s almost to the front door.
“If you leave now, Emily, you’re doing it with the knowledge that I don’t want you to. When I
left you, I thought I was doing the right thing. I know I was wrong, but I was eighteen. I thought I was helping you. Right now, though? You’re an adult, and you’re walking away knowing you’re hurting me. Hurting us! That isn’t what you do to someone you love.” I make air quotes to drive my point home. “There’s no way for you to rationalize running now.”
Her chest heaves for two breaths, just enough time for the pit in my stomach to consider the possibility that she will stay, and we can work this out. Just enough time to allow hope to sneak in. There’s so much more to tell her.
“I was smart enough to make my own decisions then, and I am smart enough to make them now.” She reaches for the doorknob as tears run down her cheeks harder than any thunderstorm outside.
“You know what?” I put my hands on my hips, and adrenaline surges through me, knowing this will be the fight of my life. “You want to give up control, surrender to me, make me chase you around, wear you down? Fine. Fine, baby. Let’s do it. You will not win.”
“What? I’m not… you’re insane!” She screams. “Do not come to Cambridge, do not call me, leave me alone!”
“No, goddamnit, I will not leave you alone. I lost you once, and I will burn this fucking world to the ground before I let you go again! You can fight all you want, Emily, you can push me away and say terrible, shitty things—and fuck you for that—but I promise you will not win!”
Her eyes are enormous, and she’s clutching the shoebox like it’s going to save her.
I pace to her, she takes one step back for each of mine forward until her back is up against the door. Resting my elbows on the wooden door aside her head, I look down at her.
“I love you. I have always loved you. I waited six years, and I can do another sixty. You need to run from me right now, baby? Go ahead. I fucking dare you.”
Pushing off the wall, I take two long strides back from her. She was out of her mind and not even hearing me, at least now she’s caught off guard and might come to her senses.
The look in her eyes says she’s thinking about it.
I try to convey with my own that I’m dead serious—there’s no fighting this between us anymore, and I will spend my every last day on this earth fighting for her.
Don’t think, Em. Just feel.
“I hope you’re happy. Now I have no one, just like you.” And then she grips the doorknob again, twists it, and shatters my heart into a million pieces as she turns and runs out.
Twenty Six
Emily
The alarm on my phone goes off, the buzzing and noises breaking my blank stare at the bedroom wall. I turn the alarm off and ignore the long list of texts, missed calls, and notifications.
I haven’t looked at any of them. I don’t need any more lies.
In desperation, I tried the twenty-four-hour trick Cole taught me. I gave myself twenty-four hours to wallow like he did. I barely moved from my bed the whole time, and wallow, I did.
Unlike for him, hour twenty-five feels no better for me. I can’t switch it off like he can. I’m not built like that. Maybe I don’t have the discipline or the strength, or maybe I just don’t have the will anymore.
I have absolutely nothing, now.
I don’t even have my clothes or belongings. They’re all at Cole’s apartment. I’m still in the same pajamas in my empty Cambridge bedroom. If I didn’t leave my bed here, I’d be lying on the floor like an even bigger loser.
All the little mementos, photos of him, those are all gone, too. There is literally nothing left to cling to.
I’m too embarrassed to call Makenna. I wouldn’t know where to start with Klara. Every few hours, I can hear her stop outside of my bedroom door, listening to hear if there are sounds of life inside, then she moves on, smartly leaving me alone inside my chamber of misery.
My parents—I don’t know what to do. All I feel for them is anger, betrayal, rage. I would never believe it if I didn’t spend all night reading through every letter and email I found in Cole’s closet. They’re scattered across my room like shards of broken glass that pierce my skin each time I move.
My whole life, I was the smart girl. I had that going for me if nothing else. It was my identity. But now, I’ve never felt so stupid.
