Page 23 of Hold Me Closer
Where was she when I was three? Because her advice is about twenty years too late. Loving him has been the defining moment of my entire life. And trying to forget him has been my own personal purgatory.
I disconnect the call, dropping my phone onto my lap with a heavy sigh. For six damn years, he's kept his distance. Why is he back now? What does he want? And why in the hell is he telling the world that we're dating? I don't know the answers to any of those questions, but I intend to find out.
I glance over at Zoya. "Do you have his phone number?"
She hesitates for a long moment.
"Zoya, I'm not in the mood," I warn her. "Please just answer the question."
"I have his new one," she whispers, guilt flickering in her eyes. "But you don't need it, Nadia. He still has the old one."
I stare at her levelly. "Why does he need two numbers?"
"Seriously?" She rolls her eyes. "He kept it for you, Nadia. In case you ever decided you needed him. Just like you still have your old phone number on the off chance that he ever decided to pick up the phone and call you. The two of you have been pushing each other away for years, but you still cling so hard that you're the only two who don't see what's right in front of you."
"There's nothing in front of me," I mutter, my heart in a vise.
"Right." She hops up from the floor, tossing her head angrily. "Just like you've never dated because you're focused on the music. And he's never dated because he's focused on the game. It's all bullshit. You two never got over one another, and you never will." She glances down at me, scowling. "Honestly, I don't know what's sadder. The fact that you'd both rather punish yourselves than forgive yourselves for being stupid kids. Or the fact that you've done it for so long that you don't know how to stop."
"I'm not punishing myself."
"Yeah, you are. You pushed him away because you were hurt, and part of you hates yourself for doing it. And he let you do it, and he'll never forgive himself for that, either." She shakes herhead at me, her expression sad. "You two never stopped loving each other, even after six years apart."
"He never loved me, Zoya," I snap, my voice raw. "He picked football and didn't have the nerve to tell me. And then he didn't even freaking show up at the hospital when I was dying."
She gapes at me. "Is that really what you think happened?"
"It is what happened."
"No, it isn't," she says sadly.
"I was there. I remember! Everyone was there except him."
"You were dying, Nadia. You may think you remember, but I promise you, you don't," she says.
"What are you talking about?"
She hesitates for a minute and then shakes her head. "We tried to tell you back then, but you didn't want to hear anything about him. If we brought him up, you shut down. And you shut us down, too. You freaking moved out to prove your point. So I'm not doing it now. If you want to know, ask him." She turns toward the door. "I'm getting an Uber back to your place. I'll see you back there when you're done here."
"Zoya, wait." My face falls. "I didn't mean to make you run off."
"You didn't. But you have something else to do right now, and I think you need to do it more than you need to hang out with me." She gives me a tiny smile. "Please, for your sake, do it. You're never getting past this until you face it."
I hesitate for a long moment and then nod reluctantly. She's right, dammit. The only way I get over him is by facing him. I tried running. I tried hiding. I tried pretending he didn't exist. None of that worked. The only thing left to do…is deal with him.
So why the hell is that thought so terrifying?
Twenty minutes later, I'mstill sitting on the floor, staring at my phone, afraid to pick it up and dial his number. Part of me is afraid Zoya was wrong about him keeping his old number. And I think part of me is afraid she wasn't kidding. I'm not sure I'm ready to face the implications if he really does still have it.
For years, I've been hurt and angry because he didn't show up when I needed him. Only to come face to face with the possibility that he's been holding onto guilt for just as long.
What happened to us? How did we get here?
For years, I've tried to figure out how things got so messed up between us, but I've never been able to pinpoint exactly what went wrong. One day, we were happy—kids with our whole lives ahead of us—and the next, it all fell apart.
Did he resent me for always hanging around him? Was he tired of me? I just don't get it, and I never have. Why tell me that he loves me and then break my heart? Why ask me to tell him how I felt about him if he was just going to leave? Why didn't he show up at the hospital after spending months fighting, trying to convince me to give him another chance?
He was never cruel, but that felt particularly vicious.
