Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Mom plants her hands on her hips. “Dallas Mattias Bright, what were you thinking?”
“About which part?”
“Any of it! All of it! That poor girl.” She tosses her dish rag on the counter. “And to think, we just ambushed her! All of us showing up out of the blue, and she had to entertain us and pretend the engagement was real.” She shakes her head. “I don’t understand where your head was with any of this.”
“In his ass,” Paris mutters.
I glare. “You’re not helping.”
She gives me a look. “Well, you’re sitting here, looking the part of the sad sack, so you’re not doing much to help your case either.”
I drop my head into my hands. “I’m such a screw-up.”
Mom sighs. “You screwed up, but you’re not a screw-up, Dallas. Far from it. But the way you went about this whole thing didn’t leave much room for it to go right. Why not be honest with her from the start? You could have taken her to prom and fixed it all years ago. Why wait all these years to tell her the truth? Why set it all up as not real when you want the opposite?”
“It just…spun out of control on me.” I run my finger along the rim of the glass. “I thought I was protecting her after she protected me.”
My mom and sister are more than happy to recount the horrible story to my dad and brothers when we all sit down to family dinner.
“It’s pretty on brand for you,” Manning says.
Ferris agrees. “I mean, you ratted out your friends and spent your own money on new student council posters but let her believe you were one of the ones who’d defaced them.”
“I still don’t get that,” Manning muses.
“What right did I have to tell her? Because I let it happen in the first place. My friends were being dicks. She didn’t deserve it. Like hey, listen I fixed this for you and stuff but also stole your bike once? She never owed me that opportunity. Just like she doesn’t deserve the shit I’ve put her through these past months.” That’s ultimately why I ended things. She deserved better. That and being in love with someone who doesn’t love me back hurts too fucking much.
“I think you need to give the seventeen-year-old version of you a break,” Dad muses.
“The seventeen-year-old version of me knew better, though,” I retort.
“Sure, but are you seventeen anymore? Have you allowed anyone to be mistreated since then?”
“No. Of course not.”
“What if you tried to forgive yourself instead of beating yourself up about it? You’ve grown into a person to be proud of over the last ten years, son.” Dad looks at me as though stating that should erase my shame. He taps the arm of his chair. “Did she want out of the relationship?”
“I want to be married to her,” I tell them. “I wanted that ring on her finger. I want to spend the rest of my life loving her, but knowing she doesn’t want the same…that’s torture.”
“Is that what she told you?” Dad presses. “That she’s never interested in a life with you?”
“She’s not in love with me.” I push my chair away from the table. “I’m going down to the dock. I need a breather.” I grab a bottle of scotch, a plastic glass, and the crochet bag from the living room and leave my family sitting at the dining room table. I need time to wallow.
Unrequited love is some shit. Why doesn’t my family understand how hard it is to know my feelings aren’t matched? I know I’m not entitled to her love. I’m not entitled to any part of her.
I’m good and drunk by the time my sister drops into the chair beside mine.
“What is that supposed to be?”
“A peach.” It looks like a blob.
She picks up the bottle and gives it a shake. “Dude, you’re a mess.”
“I know.” I just want to be sad and hate my life in peace.
“Was any of it real at all? Or were you so in love with the idea of having her that you forgot to consider the ramifications of what would happen when you made her yours?”
I blow out a breath. It’s annoying that my sister can so succinctly lay it out for me in a few sentences.
“I’m not in love with the idea of her. I love her. Everything about her. She’s everything. She goes after everything she wants and doesn’t stop until it’s hers. I don’t care that she might not be for everyone. She’s it for me.” I take a deep breath. “Why am I such an idiot?”
“You’re not an idiot. You’re impulsive. You always have been. It works well on the ice, but it doesn’t always translate in real-life situations. Like this one.” She gives me an empathetic smile. “Impulsivity aside, you’re a great guy. You’re genuine and you do things not because it will look good, but because you actually care. Hemi obviously saw that, or she wouldn’t have gone along with any of this nonsense.”