Page 153 of Holding On

When I go in my bedroom, I find vases of roses scattered everywhere; my dresser, the nightstand, my desk, the floor.

My phone dings and I see another text from Ethan. Did you get home safe? Let me know.

He always does that on the nights I don't go over there. He always checks that I made it home safe after work. But he shouldn't be doing it anymore. We're done. It's over.

I'm tempted to text him back, but then I stop myself and set my phone on the nightstand. As I'm changing out of my uniform, my phone dings. I check it. It's another text from Ethan. I'm sorry. Please don't be mad. I miss you.

I miss him too and it's only been a day. But it'll get better. It's always hard right after a breakup. Then time goes on and eventually you forget about the person. Except I don't think I'll ever forget about Ethan. There was something different about him. Something I hadn't felt before.

***

Over the next few days, Ethan continues to call and text but I stick to my guns and don't call or text him back. If I did, I might agree to see him again and I can't do that. We'll just end up at the same place and then I'll have to go through this all over again.

On Wednesday afternoon, as I'm getting ready for work, someone rings the doorbell. Assuming it's Ethan, I make Mike answer while I remain in my bedroom.

"Becca, you have a visitor," he yells from the living room.

What the hell? Mike knows I'm not talking to Ethan.

"Becca." My bedroom door opens and Mike's standing there. "Some guy's here to see you."

"What guy?" I say, getting up from my bed.

"Jackson Hurd. Running back for Laytham. You know him?"

"Yeah. He's Ethan's friend."

So now Ethan's sending his buddy over to talk to me? Great.

I sigh and walk to the living room. Jackson is sitting on the couch, looking at his phone.

"Hey, Jackson." I sit at the other end of the couch. "How's it going?"

"Not bad." He puts his phone away. "How's it going with you?"

"Fine." I glance at the clock. "I have to leave soon for work."

"Yeah, I know." He turns toward me. "So, um, I heard you and Ethan haven't really been talking."

"Because we broke up," I point out.

"Yeah. About that. Any chance you'd consider getting back together with him?"

"He sent you here to talk me into getting back together with him?" I ask, annoyed. "He couldn't even bother to show up himself?"

"He didn't send me. I came on my own. And according to him, he's already shown up here, several times, and you've turned him away. In fact, I don't think you even answered the door."

"Jackson, I don't want to get into this with you. Ethan and I just aren't good together. It's as simple as that. We're not getting back together."

"You're wrong."

My brows rise. "Excuse me?"

"You and Ethan ARE good together. Before he met you, he wouldn't call his friends. Wouldn't leave the house. Wouldn't talk to Coach. I don't think he even threw the football once from the time of the accident until just a couple weeks ago. For Ethan, that's serious. The guy lives to throw a football. It's what he loves to do and he's damn good at it."

"Then he should be doing that instead of trying to get me back. The season is starting soon. He needs to be focusing on football."

"I agree, but he won't do it. We were supposed to train together today but he didn't show up. When I went over there, he was on the couch playing video games. I tried to talk to him but he just stared at the TV, like I wasn't even there."

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