Dump and Chase (Nashville Assassins Next Generation 1)

She throws her hands in the air, more tears falling down her face. “Do you love me?”

I’m flabbergasted, stuttering like crazy. “W-Wait, huh? What? Why? You know I feel something. Why are you asking that? That’s not fair. You said you’re going to be patient with me. And the way you make that sound is that either I do or I don’t, and that’s not fucking fair.”

“I also said I was in this till you gave me a reason to doubt it. That was a reason,” she yells, her fingers jabbing at the locker room. “That is bullshit. How hard was it to say, ‘You know, yeah, I got me a girl, and you know, we’re navigating our feelings.’?”

I scrunch up my face. “’Cause I didn’t want to sound like a fucking loser!”

“So being in love and caring about someone makes you a loser?” she sneers, her eyes narrowed to slits as they leak tears, and I feel helpless. She isn’t the idiot; I am.

“What the fuck? No. Damn it. This is spiraling out of control. We need to calm down. Please. Let’s go home—”

“Home? I have to mean more to you than a fucking fuck for that to be our home,” she yells, her eyes wild and tear-filled. “We’re done.”

With that, she turns. I’m about to chase after her when a huge hand presses into my chest. I look up into Shea’s eyes, and he shakes his head.

“Let her go.”

“But I have to stop her.”

“No, bud, you don’t. You’re right. She needs to calm down. You need to calm down. Give her some space. You knocked the shit out of her pride.”

I shake my head. “No, no, I couldn’t have. It’s just a huge misunderstanding.”

Elli squeezes my other shoulder. “I know, honey, but she can’t see that right now. Your words hurt her—and pissed me off.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t mind ripping off your arm and beating you with the bloody end for making my baby cry,” Shea says matter-of-factly. “I can’t do that, can I?”

“No, we told Shelli not to hit people when she’s upset.”

“Bullshit-ass parenting on our part,” he mutters, but I don’t even care.

“But she said we’re done—”

Emotion makes my voice crack, and I crouch down, covering my face as I suck in deep breaths.

She said we’re done.

But we can’t be done.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I’m struck by emotional hit after hit. I feel like I’m standing in the ocean and getting smacked in the face by waves and jellyfish. I’m feeling everything at once. I didn’t mean what I said. I really didn’t realize what I was saying until it was out of my mouth. I wanted to shut the guys up. She wasn’t supposed to hear that because it isn’t fucking true. There are feelings. There are so many feelings, and it’s as if they’re ripping me apart right now.

She said what I thought she’d never say.

We’re done.

My apartment feels empty without Shelli here.

Without her laugh.

Her ass always cleaning something.

Lying on me.

Kissing me.

Holding me.

Maybe it’s not the apartment. Maybe it’s me. I feel empty.

She hasn’t answered any of my calls. My texts have been ignored, and I thought about driving by her parents’, but I’m sure she’ll ignore me there too. I know I need to give her space. The sympathy in Elli’s and Shea’s eyes told me that, but I don’t want to. I want to find her, scream in her face that she has it all wrong, and show her that we aren’t done. We can’t be done. But I don’t know how to do that when she doesn’t want to speak to me.

The main reason I wanted to keep our relationship to ourselves was because of our families. They’re very much in the know on everything. Shelli’s and my fight is no different. Emery and Stella have already texted me, calling me a dumbass. My mom has called nineteen times, but I refuse to talk to her. My dad, though…radio silence. Which means one thing. He’s disgusted with me. Fuck, I’m disgusted with myself. I shouldn’t have said those things. I wasn’t even thinking. But Shelli won’t hear it. I did the one thing I didn’t want to do. I hurt her. I beat up her pride, and now, I’m left feeling bruised and battered. I want to make it better. I want her to listen, but I don’t know how to get her to.

I stare at my phone, willing it to ring and for it to be Shelli. Alas, it doesn’t. It just sits there silent, a reminder of my stupidity. I reach for it and dial her number once more.

Her voice mail—again.

Fuck, I miss her. “Shelli, it’s me. Again. Listen, this is bullshit. I didn’t mean what I said. I promise you that. Please. Call me. Come here, or I’ll come to you. Any way that works for you. We just have to fix this. I don’t care what you say—we aren’t done. Answer me.”