Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Her eyes welled with tears again, and this time she let them fall freely as she swallowed. “I need some space.”
“Julep—”
“I need some space,” she said again, pleading. “And you need to focus on the game.”
“I don’t want to focus on the game.”
“Again, that’s part of the problem,” she said, exasperated.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to bang my fists against the wall and tell her not to do this, not to push me away when I was trying so desperately to hold onto her. But it seemed the tighter I held, the more she resisted being held.
“The Holden I know would only be focused on the game, on winning the championship with his team and securing his spot in the draft. That’s the man I met at the beginning of the season. That’s the man I fell for. The one who was determined, who was a leader, who would never risk any of it for some girl.”
“You’re not just some girl and you fucking know it.”
Her bottom lip quivered, and she looked away from me.
“I’m still that guy,” I continued. “I am. I want the win. I want all of it. But I don’t want to lose you in the process.”
She quieted, fighting back more tears. “I don’t see any other way.”
I shook my head, eyes stinging, heart thrashing.
“Please,” she begged. “I want you to leave. I need you to leave.”
I was so fucking angry and desperate I felt like a mad man on the edge. But I could sense how precarious the situation was, how if I kept on in this moment, I’d only push her away. She was freaked out. She was scared. And I was making it worse by trying to rip away one last little bit of control she felt like she held onto.
I pulled her closer, tilting her chin until she looked at me.
“I will give you anything you need, Julep. Even this. But only on one condition. You have to promise me we will talk after you’ve taken some time, some space. You have to promise me that this isn’t the end.”
She swallowed, her glossy eyes flicking between mine.
“I am not walking away from you,” I told her as my voice shook. “Do you understand me? I am not walking away.”
I silenced the cry that came from her lips with a pained kiss, one she met just as desperately, her arms threading around the back of my neck and holding me to her. I kissed her long and deep, holding her tightly against me, praying with every bit of religion I still held onto that she believed me when I said that.
“Okay,” she breathed, pulling away, her forehead pressed to mine.
“You promise?”
She nodded, and I pulled her back in, both of us trembling as I pressed my lips to hers.
Then, just like she asked, I left.
And even though she promised, my heart was swallowed by the black hole of grief when I shut the door behind me.
As if I’d never kiss her again.
Julep
It became a ritual.
Every morning, I’d wake up to the sound of my phone pinging on my nightstand. Bleary-eyed from not sleeping, I’d reach for it and stare at the words waiting for me. They were different each time, but they came in like clockwork every single day.
Good morning.
I’m still here.
I hope you breathe a little easier today.
Don’t give up on us.
You looked beautiful yesterday.
It will all be okay, Julep. Trust me.
Each time, no matter what the text said, it would elicit a sharp pain through my chest as I hugged the phone and closed my eyes. I’d hold it there like it was him, trying not to cry and usually failing.
I never answered.
“I feel stupid for ever thinking I could be happy,” I admitted to Mary one night while we watched TV. “For ever thinking what we were doing wouldn’t have to end.”
“You can be happy, Julep.”
“Just not with him,” I said.
She frowned, leaning her head on my shoulder. “One day he will thank you for doing what he wasn’t strong enough to do.”
That didn’t make me feel any better.
Days swirled into weeks, the icy rain and snow battering New England making my body feel just as cold as my heart.
All the while, Holden respected my wish for space.
Other than those texts, he left me alone. He didn’t sneak over when Mary was at work, and he didn’t beg me to come over late at night. Even at the stadium, we avoided each other, not even sharing so much as a longing glance across the room.
My father was watching our every move.
He seemed satisfied, happy that we’d listened to him. He was even easing up on Holden a bit, handing him the reins on the field and letting him call the shots as the team got closer and closer to the bowl game.