Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Those eight words tear my insides to shreds.
And there’s no way to patch them up.
I suck in a deep breath and try to reel it all back in. I need to keep it fucking together. Obviously, I need to come at this from a different angle.
“If you’re worried about our parents, they’ll get over it.” The effort it takes to keep my voice level is a challenge. It’s so damn tempting to shake some sense into her before dragging her into my arms for safekeeping. I want to kiss her into submission until she finally agrees that whatever has been brewing between us for years is worth fighting for.
That I’m worth fighting for.
Does she really think otherwise?
How can she sit there and tell me that this relationship doesn’t mean a damn thing?
For fuck’s sake, what we have is different.
It’s…special.
To look me in the eyes and tell me otherwise would be a lie.
“No, I don’t think they will,” she admits softly. “It would probably be best for everyone involved if we ended this and moved on.”
Moved on?
How the fuck am I supposed to do that?
Wait a minute…
I sit up a little straighter, my entire body straining toward her.
“Is that what Pamela told you? That we shouldn’t be together? That it’s wrong? Or that people will talk?” I bite out each question, rapid firing them before she has a chance to answer a single one. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of what’s changed. Why is she so willing to let this go?
Color drains from her face. “Crawford’s been so good to me, I’d never want to do anything that would hurt him.”
“Us being together won’t hurt him.”
“What if it causes problems for his re-election campaign? He loves politics so much. Could you really forgive yourself if you take that away from him? I’m not sure if I can.”
I press my lips tightly together as frustration explodes inside me. “Would you still be looking to end this if his career wasn’t a factor?”
She rips her eyes away only to stare out the windshield. The more time that ticks by, the harder my heart thrashes against my chest until it feels like there’s a good possibility it’ll bust loose.
“You have to know that we were never meant for the long haul. It was just supposed to be a bit of—”
“Fun?”
I can’t believe we’re seriously sitting here having this conversation.
I never expected it. Even after we got caught.
I thought she’d be embarrassed, and, after a few days, we’d laugh about the entire thing. Instead, it feels like she’s trying to—
“Yeah.”
It’s so damn tempting to continue arguing but in the end, what good will it do?
Maybe she’s being straightforward about her feelings, and it was never serious. She was in it for the sex.
I slump against the seat as those thoughts circle viciously through my head. I feel like a real dumbass for thinking it could have been more. That this was a relationship. The start of something that could stand the test of time.
It sucks to realize that it was all one sided.
With nothing else left to talk about, I twist around and restart the engine before pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road.
And just like before, neither of us say a word.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Carina
Air leaks from my lungs as I stare sightlessly at the ceiling. When the alarm on my phone rings like an obnoxious bell, I roll over, swipe my cell from the nightstand, and tap the screen before returning to my back.
I should get out of bed. Dance starts in forty minutes, but I have zero motivation to get dressed or leave my room. It’s been that way since I pulled the plug on my relationship with Ford.
For more than a week, we’ve been going to great lengths to avoid each other. Not even when he pushed me away in high school did it feel like this. There’s a giant gaping hole where my heart should be. I don’t understand how it’s possible to miss him this much. It’s like I severed a limb and will now have to live the remainder of my life with phantom pain.
Everything reminds me of him.
His scent on my pillows.
Dancing.
The book he left for me on the bed to find.
The jersey he bought me that’s draped over my chair.
It’s ridiculous.
I’ve slept with guys before and I’ve had a handful of relationships. Most didn’t last that long, or I was never very invested to bother sticking around. When they came to an inevitable end, it was more of a relief than anything else. The guys in question were never important.
They didn’t mean anything.
Not really.
But…
That’s not how I feel about Ford.
And here I’d thought I was guarding my heart so carefully.
Turns out that nothing could be further from the truth.
I grab a fluffy pillow and drag it over my face before screaming at the top of my lungs until there’s nothing left inside.