Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“I have a job,” she bites out, “you know it’s not easy for me to just leave.”
“Oh, trust me, I know you have a job. An important job.” I take a deep breath. “Let’s be real for a second and say what needs to be said. Let’s finally say what we both know is coming. We are just prolonging the inevitable.”
“And what is that?” Her voice comes out monotone.
“In the past four months, you know what I’ve learned?” I ask, but I’m not waiting for her to answer. “I’ve learned I’ve fallen for a girl who puts her work before me, and that’s okay. It’s fine. What I also learned is I can’t do this long-distance bullshit. It’s too hard. I want to come home to you, and I’ve gone out of my way to try to make it happen. I spoke to my agent about being fucking traded, and when I asked you to move to me, you wouldn’t even think about it. I think your words were, ‘I won’t.’”
“Stone, can you let me say something?” she pleads.
“No.” I shake my head. “Because there is nothing left to say. You live in Chicago. I live in Nashville. It was a stupid idea to even think we had a chance. There isn’t anything left to say. We get over this fight, and then what, continue what we’re doing? It’s not good enough anymore. Not for me and not for you.” I wait for her to tell me she misses me also, that not seeing me is killing her just as much as it’s killing me not to see her. I wait for her to give me anything to make me think it’s not just me who is invested.
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, I’ve gotten a lot of sorrys over the past couple of weeks,” I breathe out, not listening to anything she has to say because I’m angry, but more importantly, I’m fucking heartbroken. “Take care of yourself, Ryleigh,” I say softly. “I hope you find someone who can make you happy.” The thought alone is enough to kill me. It’s like you cut my veins and left me to bleed out. “I hope he knows how fucking lucky he is.” That’s the last thing I say to her before I hang up the phone. This time, I bend my elbow up over my head and throw the phone across the room, making it hit the wall before it falls down and shatters, just like my heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
ryleigh
A knock on the door makes me look up. “Are you ready?” My mother sticks her head into the room, seeing me sitting on the bench at the end of the bed. Since my brother bought a house here in Dallas, my parents thought it was a good idea for them to own a house in Dallas.
“Explain to me why we are going to the hockey game tonight?” I grab one white sneaker, bending to put it on and tuck in the laces.
“Because we came to visit Romeo and his in-laws are playing,” she reminds me, tilting her head to the side. “At least, I think they’re playing.” She throws her hands in the air. “There are so many of them, I’m sure at least one is playing.” She laughs as I stand and walk over to the mirror to look at myself one more time before we leave. I opted to wear black tights with a loose white T-shirt. I pluck the jean jacket and tug it on before I pull my hair out of the back of it, letting it hang loose.
“Good?” I ask my mother, who smiles at me.
“You look gorgeous.” The minute she says that word, the hurt comes hurling back at me. It’s been a month since our last phone call. Since he broke my heart and left me. A month since I’ve heard his voice. A month since he was last mine.
“Don’t use that word,” I mumble, and she wrings her hands. “Anything but that word.”
“Okay.” She doesn’t ask questions. She hasn’t asked a question since I called her and just said “it’s over.” I didn’t say anything else; I really wasn’t ready to share, not then and still not today. She knows that when I’m ready to talk about it, I will. But the wound is still raw. In fact, every single day I think the wound is going to be better, but every day it feels like I’m being cut open and gutted once again.
I walk over to the bedside table, taking my phone off the charger. The screen saver is changed to just the view from the hot air balloon. It seemed stupid to have him as my screen saver when we weren’t dating anymore. It also hurt too much to see his face every time I looked down at my phone. That doesn’t mean I don’t open my camera roll every day to see his face. I don’t need to; he’s in my dreams every single night, even if I don’t want to dream of him. Putting the phone in my back pocket, I walk out of the room with my mother.