Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 129354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
What about me? I want to shout. Why can’t you be there for me?
But I know better. There’s no way in hell I’m revealing my internal devastation over this. I revealed myself to him last night, and today he’s dumping me.
Lesson learned.
“Hockey needs to come first for me right now.”
And that’s when I hear it—the tiniest flicker of dishonesty. Is he lying? His expression is so pained and unhappy that it’s obvious he’s not jumping for joy at the idea of breaking up. But I’m not about to beg anybody to be with me. I’m going to take his reasons at face value. Because I’m an adult and I don’t play games. If he’s telling me it’s over, then it’s fucking over.
“It’s fine, Jake. I get it.”
He falters. “You do?”
“Hockey comes first,” I echo with a shrug. “And it should. This is what you’ve worked for your entire life. I don’t expect you to throw it away for a relationship that was going to end anyway.”
A slight frown touches his lips. “You really believe that?”
“Yes,” I lie. “I told you this once before—this can’t go anywhere. You’re moving to Edmonton. I have another year of college left. It would be stupid to even try.” I rise from the couch. “I’m sure my dad will be fine with me moving back. And if he’s not, then I’ll stay with Summer. My landlords said the basement will be ready any day now. Who knows, maybe it’s ready now and they haven’t had a chance to call me yet.”
His fingers slide through his hair for the millionth time. “Brenna…” He doesn’t continue. His remorse is unmistakable.
“It’s all good, Jakey. Let’s not drag this out. We had some fun, and now it’s time to move on. No biggie, right?”
Pretending I don’t care is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life. And I must be doing a convincing job of it, because Jake nods sadly.
“Anyway, I’m going to go grab all my stuff now, make it easier. It’s only one drawer so…” My voice breaks. He gave me a drawer and now he’s taking it away. It feels like someone took a rusty blade and stabbed it into my heart a hundred times.
In Jake’s bedroom, I quickly empty the contents of the drawer and dump everything in my suitcase. Then I duck into the hall bathroom and sweep up my toiletries. I’m sure I’ve forgotten something, but if Jake contacts me about it later, I’m going to tell him to throw it out. Even though I’m alone, I force myself not to reveal a sliver of emotion. One slip-up and I’ll be crying. And I’m not allowed to shed a single tear inside this apartment.
Rolling my suitcase behind me, I return to the living room. I saunter over to Jake, squeezing his arm. Touching him makes me want to die.
He stiffens for beat, and then he raises his hand and touches my cheek. His thumb brushes lightly over my bottom lip. It comes away with a faint crimson smudge.
“Rocking the red lips this early in the day, eh?” he says roughly.
“It’s my trademark.” It’s my armor, I think silently.
Right now that armor is the only thing keeping me from breaking down in tears at his feet.
36
Brenna
Jake dumped me.
Those three miserable words run through my mind during the train and bus rides to Hastings. I still haven’t cried. I thought I would, but I guess when I buried my emotions during the goodbye with Jake, I did too good of a job. Now I feel nothing. Nothing at all. I’m numb. My eyes are dry and my heart is stone.
Dad’s Jeep is in the driveway when I walk up to the front door dragging my carry-on behind me. I hope he doesn’t kick me out again. On the bright side, if he does tell me I can’t stay, I’ll only need to find a place to crash for one night. Wendy called when I was on the train, giving me the news that I can move back in tomorrow morning. She and Mark are even going to IKEA this evening to pick up some basic pieces of furniture. I told them they didn’t have to do that, but apparently the insurance claim still hasn’t gone through, so they’re insisting on at least getting me a bed.
I find Dad in the kitchen unloading the dishwasher. He’s turned away from me, and for a moment I’m startled. He’s tall and broad, built like a hockey player, and from the back he almost resembles Jake, only Dad’s dark hair is shorter. Strength radiates from him, and it reminds me that I need to be strong, too. I always have to be strong in front of my father.
I take a breath. “Hey.”
He turns, offering a brisk “hey” in response.