“Did you see that on TV or something?”
“No. It’s a fact of life.”
She looks at me with a coolness that sends an icy dagger right into my chest. I wish I could say something witty or nonchalant and walk away, but I can’t. All I can do is stand here and bleed and hope I can get it stopped before I die.
But the longer she looks at me like that, the more I think there’s only one end to this story. She wants all the bells and whistles of life, and I applaud her for that. It works for a lot of people.
It doesn’t work for me. She knows this. What’s she doing?
Some people are built to understand how car defrosters work. There are even others who can switch back and forth between metric and imperial measuring systems in their heads.
Defrosters work for me. I’m decent at calculating measurements, but I cannot wrap my head around love.
So, I don’t.
I won’t.
I can’t.
Everyone would lose.
It would kill me.
Love isn’t everlasting. It’s built on conditions and promises and . . . and it ends in failure. I’d rather fail her now than later. She has less to lose.
I never should’ve started this to begin with.
“We were doomed from the start,” I say, a lump building in my throat.
Part of me hopes she argues and tells me I’m full of shit. Instead, she nods.
“You’re right. I think you focused so much on what could go wrong that you made it happen.” She wipes at the corner of her eye. “I just wish you could see what everyone else sees in you. But I can’t do that for you. No one can. You have to make the effort to do it, and until you do, you’re not going to move forward relationally in life.”
“Ave . . .”
Panic fills me up from head to toe as I watch her put together the string of words I know is coming. I’ve always known they would come because that’s what happens in these sorts of things. Someone sees the other’s flaws and runs. You can’t blame a person for wanting to get out from under a burden that’s not theirs to carry, and I don’t blame her.
Even if it means she’ll walk away.
Even if it means I’ll never be the same.
“I’m sorry, Penn,” she says. “I promised myself when I got here that I would only get involved with someone that wanted me. You don’t. You want the idea of me. You’re not willing to hold me or love me or value me in a way that’s anything more than a friend you’re fucking.”
Her words are salt in an already open wound. “Avery, please. That’s not true.”
“Please what? It is true.” She pauses to give me time to come up with a response. When I fail, she gives me a sad smile. “You deserve to be happy. I deserve that too.”
The air swirls around us like the final credits are playing. I want to find the remote control and press “Pause” or “Stop” and end this from happening. But the longer I watch the resolution in her eyes, I know the end is going to come whether I want it or not.
“Avery! Where did you go?” Matt calls out.
She tries to smile as she backs toward the door. “I have to go.”
And she walks out of the room . . . and out of my life.
All I can do is watch her go.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
AVERY
It’s my fault,” I say.
Harper sits on the chair across the room with a frown. “As much as I like Penn, Avery, this isn’t your fault.”
“No, it is. I let myself get in way too deep.” I shove a cookie in my mouth. “In my defense,” I say, spraying crumbs everywhere, “it was entirely too easy. A custom-built trap.”
“I imagine it was easy. And in your defense, you did resist him longer than anyone ever has.”
I cringe. Maybe I should have taken more notice of how it would feel to know that we were a short fling. I bet I should’ve contemplated how it’s going to feel seeing him be friends with someone else.
“What good did that do me? Actually, I think that’s the reason it turned out this way. If I would’ve just slept with him that first night and gotten it over with, he would’ve moved on, and I wouldn’t have all these memories of him now to deal with.”
I pull my legs up on the couch and try to sweet-talk my brain into putting a mental block on Penn. It would be nice going forward if every color of blue, all things construction, and anything remotely dealing with fish and kisses didn’t take me right back to him.
“Maybe he just needs some time,” Harper says.
“Well, he can have all the time in the world that he wants, but I’m not waiting on him to figure it out.” I shake my head and toss another cookie in my mouth. “I’ve spent my whole life in this state of limbo, waiting to see what I can do next because of someone else’s problems. I couldn’t go to camp in junior high because Oakley wanted us to take a trip to Mexico instead. I couldn’t leave her alone. I missed my prom because Dad checked himself into a rehab in Utah and no one knew, so Mom hauled us up there to pretend we were having a family weekend skiing to throw off the paparazzi. Oh, and how can I forget the two years I wasted with Dawson when he swore he was going to take things seriously with me as soon as his film debuted. Spoiler: he lied.”