The Senior (College Years 4)

I bet he still supports her more than Eli could ever support me.

“Have you even tried to talk to him?” she murmurs.

“Who, Ash? Your fiancé is kind of busy right now,” I tease her because it’s easier to focus on anyone else than Eli.

“I’m not talking about Ash.”

A sigh leaves me. “No, I haven’t tried talking to Eli. He sent me a few texts right after our last fight, but I didn’t respond.”

He was trying to convince me to talk to him, but I wasn’t in the mood. I’m still not. And I didn’t block him again. Not on any social media, and he didn’t block me either. We’re readily available to each other at any moment, but I’m not ready to reach out.

I guess neither is he.

He’s having a great football season. The Bulldogs made it to the playoffs, and if they win this weekend’s game, they’ll play in the Mountain West conference championship the first weekend in December. And if they win the championship, the Bulldogs will receive the opportunity to play in a bowl game in mid-December. By the time he’s finished with his last college football season, I’ll be packing up, eager to escape. I’m leaving for San Diego the first week in January.

I’m out of here. And I’m not looking back this time around, or waiting for someone to realize they fucked up.

“You two are so stubborn,” Autumn mutters.

“I told you everything that happened between us, you know why I’m being stubborn.” And I’m not backing down from it either. The man is infuriating.

“Listen, I think he’s a little prick, you know this. I don’t have a soft spot for him like Mom, or see all that potential in him like Dad. But I don’t hate him like Jake does whenever Eli does you wrong.”

“Jake still hates him?” He’ll be home this afternoon and he’s bringing Hannah with him. I can’t wait to see them, though I don’t want any “I told you so” lectures from my big brother either.

“Any excuse he can get for hating Eli, he’ll take,” Autumn says. “But what I’m trying to tell you is that I will always be on your side no matter what. You’re my baby sister. We have to stick together.”

There’s something she’s not saying.

“But?” I prompt.

“But…you’re only torturing yourself by cutting him completely off. Eli just—he gets wrapped up in his own head and makes really emotional decisions.”

“That end up hurting me,” I remind her.

“Right. You’re so right. He does things and never thinks about the consequences. Look, I’ve been with Ash for a long time, and I understand the pressure he’s under—as much as I can, considering I’m not the one who’s actually dealing with it. But I know it’s a lot.”

I remain quiet, her words sinking into me. She knows better than anyone what it’s like, dealing with a boyfriend who plays for a college team. Mom knew, but that was years ago.

“And I really think the pressure just got to Eli and he exploded, believing you were the easiest thing to temporarily remove from his life. That’s because you’re the one person he can count on more than anyone else. He figured you would be there and show up for him when he needed you,” Autumn explains.

Her words are killing me. She’s probably right, and it’s tough to hear.

“It’s not fair, how he treated you,” she says. I lift my gaze to hers, seeing all the sympathy swirling in her gaze. “I’m not saying what he did was right, I’m just trying to figure him out.”

“I know,” I murmur. I am the one person he believed he could count on more than anyone else. Everyone disappoints him. Or he disappoints other people—that’s the way he feels, at least.

Never me, though. I’m supposed to love him and stand by him no matter what. Instead, I told him he’s a selfish ass who doesn’t deserve me.

So where do I go from here?

“I’ll support you no matter what you do. If you’re over him, then good. Be done with him,” Autumn says fiercely.

A frustrated huff leaves me and I glare at the ceiling, kicking at the mattress like a toddler having a tantrum. Autumn lets me, not saying a word or chastising me for my lame behavior. I need to get it out and she’s letting me, thank God.

“I’m not the bad guy in this situation,” I tell her.

“Neither of you are.”