Page 94 of Catching My Dreams

“I need to get home to feed Archie,” she told Jasmine and Becca as soon as Becca stepped off the bus a minute or two later. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

She didn’t give them a chance to reply, but they both called out their goodbyes to her retreating back. Ella knew she was being rude. She just couldn’t bring herself to spend time on polite chatter when her Yorkie had been alone for far too long and her boyfriend was radio silent after playing the worst game of his life.

She walked what felt like miles to get to her car, which she’d left in an underground parking garage that felt much scarier now that it was dark. Had Ella checked her phone after she’d gotten in the car and immediately locked her doors, she would have seen the text from Noah.

But she was too spooked to do anything besides drive out of the garage, leaving its ominous flickering lights and dark shadows behind her. She only saw his message when she was at home and standing in the bright light of the kitchen while Archie wolfed down his late dinner.

I’ll be at your place around 8.

That was it. No apology for missing her calls. No explanation. She may as well have been an acquaintance with how little warmth the words held.

Okay, she replied.

Ella had been planning to eat some leftovers she had in the fridge, but her stomach was too knotted to eat dinner after reading Noah’s text. She watched Archie finish his dinner instead, and when he was done, she went through to the living room, relinquishing her usual spot on the blue armchair so that she could lie down on the roomier gray couch.

Archie jumped up after she’d settled herself, and she stroked his back until he curled up next to her with a sigh.

She lay there, lost in her dreary thoughts, until Noah knocked on her door, waking Archie and sending him leaping from the couch and bolting out of the living room. Ella almost didn’t want to get up and answer the door. Maybe if she stayed where she was, the feeling of dread knotting her stomach would disappear.

But if something had happened to Noah’s mom, she would never forgive herself for leaving Noah waiting outside. So, she stood up and walked to the front door, each step feeling like she was walking through setting cement.

“Hi,” she said when she opened the door to find him standing with his hands in his pockets and his gaze fixed on his shoes.

His eyes lifted, and Ella almost wished they hadn’t. They were bloodshot, and there was something in his expression that she didn’t like.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, stepping to the side so he could come in. “Is your mom okay?” she pressed when the door was closed behind them and the cold night air was shut firmly behind the thick piece of wood.

Archie accosted him, and Noah gave him a few scratches before straightening up and locking his eyes with Ella’s. “We need to talk.”

Ella knew what those words meant. Everyone did. But she swallowed the lump in her throat and fought back the sting in her eyes. “Okay.” The word shook, her tight throat warping and weakening it.

Noah shifted on his feet. “This isn’t working.”

His words stole the last of the oxygen held in her lungs, and Ella couldn’t breathe in any more air past the stubborn lump in her throat. “What?” The word was barely audible, but the crack in her voice was plain for him to hear.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, as though that were a good enough explanation. “I have enough shit on my plate with my mom being sick, and I know it’s not your fault, but I can’t keep worrying about you every second of every day.”

Ella stared at him, not sure she’d heard correctly. “You’re breaking up with me because you want to stop worrying about me?” she finally managed to ask, the idea sounding no less absurd coming from her mouth.

“Yes.” Noah let out a sigh and shook his head. “No. I’m breaking up with you because I can’t be with someone who’s always got drama in their life.”

This can’t be real, Ella thought. This has to be a joke.

“If it’s not Brett, it’s your migraines or your parents. There’s always something with you, and I don’t think I can do it anymore.”

“You can’t be serious.” This couldn’t be the same man who’d massaged her shoulders that morning and told her she was beautiful before she’d even taken a brush to her hair.

Noah’s silence was answer enough. This wasn’t some twisted joke.

Ella pressed her lips together, fighting back the rising scream in her throat. “Just to be clear, you’re ending things because you can’t deal with me having problems of my own?”

“No,” Noah bit out. He lifted his hands to his head and ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair. “Fuck.”

Ella watched him close his eyes and breathe in deeply like he was striving for patience. When he reopened his eyes, they held nothing but resolve.

“I can’t deal with the fact that it’s always about you,” he told her. His voice wasn’t raised in anger or soft with guilt. It was flat like he didn’t care at all that he was breaking her into a million jagged pieces. “I have more important things to worry about.”

More important things than you. He didn’t say the words, but Ella heard what he was saying nonetheless.

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