Page 42 of Faking It with My Bossy Ex

I stomp through the snow, at least as much as a person can stomp through the snow. With every step, my leg sinks halfway to my knees, and then I have to pull it out again and put as mucheffort into my next step. When I get to the cabin, I’m far enough ahead that I can get inside and slam the door.

That felt good.

The door opens and Dylan steps inside.

Well, it felt good for a moment, anyway. I head to the bed and start pulling off my sweater and gathering my things for a shower.

There’s a reason I’ve been avoiding Dylan all day long. I don’t want to talk about what happened. I don't want to talk about the past, or about what I have been feeling these past few days.

Like that kiss.

Not a nice thing to do, bringing up the kiss that took me back eight years. My subconscious hates me, apparently.

“Amy,” he approaches me from across the room. I spin, determined to ignore him.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Just leave me alone. I’m going to take a shower and go to bed.”

“Wait.” He reaches out and grabs my arm. He’s been doing a lot of touching lately, especially when he can because other people are around. Why does my heart flip flop and I wish that therewere more excuses for him to hold me, to touch me? I shake away the thought.

Clara Hays is here! That is reason enough.

“Please don’t shut me out because of her. Let me explain.” His eyes plead with me. He looks like a puppy that was slapped.

“Explain? How can you possibly explain that, Dylan? You broke my heart. You told me you didn’t love me anymore. Then you just moved on with Clara right after, like I was nothing.”

“I found out about your scholarship to Europe and that you were planning on turning it down.”

“What?” The air rushes out of me. He couldn't have known about that. I never told him, never showed him anything about it. I knew that he would want me to go and would say something ridiculous about it being my dream. Yes, it was my dream, but he was my happiness. I didn’t want to risk us falling apart, so I wanted to stay.

“Your … brother, Jake, came to my room that day. He told me about the scholarship program and how you intended to turn it down and stay in the city with me. I knew how much your art meant to you and what that sort of opportunity would be. It would be the difference between a future in art or not having one at all.”

“No.” I back away from him. “Why didn’t you just talk to me?”

He starts to pace, anguish filling his features, so much pain and regret. My first instinct is to comfort him, to hug him, but then rage surges through me. He found out, and rather than speaking to me, he pretended he didn’t care. He pretended to move on.

“So, you find out I’m about to do something incredibly selfless and romantic and decide to dump me? How is this helping your case?”

He sighs and sits down on the edge of the bed. I’ve backed up against the wall, watching him with every bit of distrust I can muster.

Wait, he said my brother told him? Jake was the only one who knew … We had a conversation about it the day before Dylan and I broke up. I’m going to kill him.

“You know how my parents were, how much they fought over the years. It was always my mom accusing my dad of making her let go of her dreams. It destroyed them. When your brother told me that you’d be giving up your dream because of me … I panicked. I know it doesn’t make up for what I did, but I knew that you’d never risk us over a scholarship.”

Of course I wouldn't have. He knows that relationships, connection, and loyalty are the things important to me. My parents needed space and time apart. They were going to get back together, some day. Instead, my dad died. My mom wilted away from the guilt of letting him walk out, and my world crumbled, one piece at a time.

I would never put a trip, a scholarship, or even a dream over those I loved, especially not Dylan.

“I was right there, Dylan. You could have told me and given me a choice. But you didn’t, did you? You made that decision all by yourself.”

“I should have. Goodness, I can see that now.” He runs a hand over his face. “Looking back, it’s obvious. But I thought if I staged it, made you think I’d moved on, it would hurt less than watching me hold you back. I asked Clara out because I knew you’d see us together, and I thought it was the only way to push you to follow your dream.” He swallows hard. “I thought it’d be better if you could remember us at our best, instead of watching things fade away slowly.”

My heart twists, emotions crashing over me like waves. Jake meddling in my life, Dylan ripping us apart without a word, and me, totally unaware of any of it.

“Does that make it any better?” Fury laces through me. “You let me believe you didn’t love me and had moved on for eight years, Dylan! How could you do that?”

He looks miserable, sick to his stomach.

“I should have had a say. We were in a relationship. It’s a two-way street. If I wanted to give up the opportunity in Europe for my own happiness, I should have been able to do that.” My voice breaks and I swallow hard as he shoots up from the bed, closing the space between us.

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