Page 52 of Tough Love

“I wonder,” I admit, “how different it would have been if it wasn’t for him, you know?”

“You think Tristan was the reason I cut you off?”

I watch his hand as he reaches out and takes my mug from me, leaning to the side to set it next to his. The air in the room shifts, something deeper taking hold as he returns to his previous position, watching me watch him.

“Why else would you let me go like that?”

He sucks in a deep breath and takes my hand, running his thumb over my knuckles. “Two months after I shifted up north with Dad, I had enough saved from errands I ran for my uncle at his shop to fly back down to see you.”

Fuck him. Why did he have to tell me that? I wipe a stray tear away with the back of my free hand. “Why didn’t you?”

“I rang your parents to ask if I could crash there and save on paying for a motel. Thought it’d be rude if I just showed up and expected them to let me sleep in their daughter’s bed.” He laughs while I quietly sob. “They told me you wouldn’t want to see me, that me leaving was hard on you and that they thought if I showed up, only to leave again … they thought you might do something to hurt yourself.”

My sadness twists inside of me, coiling into a painful knot of anger. “How could they?” I whisper to myself. “What were they thinking?”

“Amelia.” Evan coaxes my focus back to him. “They did what they thought was best for you.” He reaches out, gently wiping the tears from my cheeks with the side of his thumb. “They didn’t make the ultimate decision not to come back that week—I did.”

“Did you not want to see me anyway?”

He sighs. “Yes. God, yes. So much. But shit, Mimi. Realising what I’d done, how bad I’d hurt you.” He pulls away and scrubs both hands over his face. “I hated myself so fucking bad for doing that to you. I hated my old man, too, for making me leave straight away.” He turns his head to hold my gaze. “I begged him.” He smirks. “I begged my dad to let me see you before we left, but he was too wrapped up in his own shit—he just wanted away from my mum.”

I fill my lungs, hoping the extra air will help clear this fog around my brain. “I thought you never called, that you just gave up.”

“No way, I never gave up on you. You were my first love.” He scoots closer, cupping my face in his hand. “I still love you. This heart”—he takes my hand and slams it to his chest under his own—“has only ever been touched by you. Nobody else has even come close to getting that far inside of me.”

My chin quivers, my heart racing as my breath fights to fill my lungs.He still loves me?“How long have you been back in town?”

“Huh?”

“How long have you been back in town,” I repeat, my anger changing course toward a new target.

“Two and a half years.”

I rip my hand from inside his and scoot back into the arm of the sofa. “You never gave up on me, and yet you were this close.” I hold my fingers close together. “That damn close and you never once tried to reconnect.”

He stares, pain overflowing, and yet I don’t care. How can I believe the truth of his words when his actions don’t match up?

“You’ve never lied to me, Evan,” I whisper. “Ever.”

“And I’m still not.” He hangs his head, his broad shoulders curling inward. “I didn’t reconnect because I thought you’d moved on, found your place without me.”

“What the hell would give you that idea?” I exclaim.

He lifts his chin and slays me with the unsaid accusations in his eyes. “I didn’t come back the week I phoned your parents, but Ididreturn. Two years later.”

It just keeps getting worse.“And youstillstayed away?” I cry in high-pitched tones.

“Yeah.” He chuckles darkly. “I had this awesome fucking plan on how I’d rock up to your house and surprise you, but I made one error. I stopped off at the shop up the road from your house to pick up some flowers—cliché, I know—and guess who I saw there?”

I shrug. Clearly I don’t know, but he’s on a roll.

“Your neighbour, Mrs Fallow. And you know what she told me?”

I widen my eyes, flipping my hands palm up.

“That your parents couldn’t stop talking about how well you were doing, and how you were moving out that week to go live with aguycalled Steve.”

I snort, most unladylike, and slap my hand over my mouth to stifle the laugh bubbling up from my chest.

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