“A place so bad that you can’t talk about it with me?” My heart aches. “Tell me the truth, Hayden.”
“I need to leave so I can work on my app,” he says. “There’s nothing else to this.”
“Are you coming back?”
“I don’t see why I’d need to.” He shrugs. “You’re doing pretty good for yourself now. I’ll still call and text you, of course.”
“Of course.” Tears fall past my cheeks. “You’re being an asshole, Hayden.”
“Come again?”
“I thought you said you’d always be there for me.”
“I’ll always mean that.”
“Then an apology for blindsided me with this goodbye would be a good place to start.”
“Apologies never change anything, Pen,” he said. “They just state the obvious.”
“Okay, then.” I step back. “Well, obviously fuck you. Fuck you hard.”
“Penelope, don’t be like this.”
“You and Travis are the most selfish bastards in the world,” I say. “You two don’t care about anyone else but yourselves.”
“Pen—”
“I hope you fail,” I say, not meaning that at all. “I hope you go fucking bankrupt and don’t make any friends, because you don’t deserve them.”
He still isn’t showing any shred of human emotion, and I can’t bear to look at his face for another second. I tear off the silver chain he gave me in Sochi, the one I’ve worn ever since, and toss it at his face.
“I don’t want to hear from you ever again.” I walk away without another word, letting the tears fall down my face.
It hurts to know that my love for him is unrequited, but deep down, I know that it always will be. That it’s best to pull up the anchor and cut the chain, to sail across the sea and find someplace else I’m wanted.
I know that he was never my boyfriend, but “breaking up” with him hits me harder than all of my other breakups combined.
Break Up #16
The One That Started the Cold War
Penelope
Back Then
* * *
Several months later
Chicago, Illinois
With the exception of “How are you?” “Happy Birthday,” or a “Congratulations on being ranked number one again,” message that is delivered through my brother, Hayden never reaches out to me.
He doesn’t text.
He doesn’t call.
He moves on with his new life in New York like I never existed, and I do the same. At first, it’s hard to get used to not seeing him in the stands to watch me perform, even harder to resist the urge to call him at night and talk.
Some days, I want nothing more than to hear his voice, but I refuse to reach out and end a Cold War that he started for no fucking reason.
Why the hell would he just leave me like that?
“You skated like a drunk duck throughout your entire warmup today.” My coach moves in front of me, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Do you feel like winning today?”
“Yes.” I glare at him. “I do.”
“Then, do you mind taking to the ice?” He points to the rink. “It’s your fucking turn.”
Shit. I suck in a breath and force a smile.
“Hey.” My coach gently grabs my arm. “Think about whatever you thought about when I goaded you with Frankie, and you’ll wash every girl here off the map.”
I nod and make my way to the center of the floor.
I shut my eyes and wait for the music to play. I’ve used Hayden as a muse before and I have no choice but to do it again.
He’s all I see whenever I shut my eyes, no matter how hard I try to get him off my mind.
As I start my routine, I hear a new addition to the soundtrack: audible gasps from the audience and their shouts of approval are louder than usual.
While I’m dreaming of Hayden coming back to say sorry, or him sitting in the stands and telling me that he loves me, I go up for the hardest jump in my program—a quadruple lutz, and I land it with ease. I complete a triple salchow and add back-to-back quadruple lutzes for the hell of it.
I launch into a triple toe loop and fall into the rest of my routine. I nail every spin, every twist, and as I attempt my fourth quadruple of the night, I feel like I’m flying—and for a few seconds, I’m untouchable.
My blade doesn’t touch the ice like it should once I complete my final, though.
And suddenly, I’m not flying anymore.
I’m crashing …
Forty
PRESENT DAY
Hayden
Penelope: FUCK YOU. We’re over.
Penelope: Do not ever call me again.
Penelope: THIS is ME breaking up with you since you didn’t have the balls to be honest and take responsibility for what is 100% your fault.
Okay, maybe I made the wrong decision.
My chest felt as if someone had set it afire, and my pillow kept attracting some type of wet spot on it every night.
“Taylor!” I called out for my housekeeper.
“Yes, Mr. Hunter?”
“It rained in here last night, didn’t it?”