Page 67 of The Dating Coach
"They want an answer by Monday."
Five days. Five days to decide whether to follow his dreams to a different continent, leaving behind everything and everyone here. Leaving me.
"You should take it," I heard myself say. "It's perfect for you."
"Is it?" His eyes searched mine. "Because it's 4,000 miles from my perfect."
The words hit like a physical blow. I turned away, burying my face in the towel to hide the tears threatening to spill.
"Don't," I whispered. "Don't make this about me."
"Everything is about you," he said simply. "About us. That's what you keep refusing to understand."
"Your entire future is imploding because of me!" The words exploded out, days of careful control shattering. "Every door closing, every opportunity vanishing – it's all because you stood by me. How am I supposed to live with that?"
"By letting me make my own choices," he said, frustration creeping into his voice. "By trusting that I know what I want."
"You want the NHL," I countered.
He shook his head. “My future doesn’t have to be hockey. I loved it—until my father piled his expectations on me. Now I want something different. Why is that so hard to believe?”
"Because I'm not worth it!" The admission ripped from my throat, raw and honest. "I'm not worth giving up your dreams. I'm complicated and damaged and I bring chaos everywhere I go. You could have anyone – someone simple, someone who doesn't come with bigoted parents and public drama and—"
"Stop." He caught my shoulders, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Stop deciding what I deserve. Stop making my choices for me. That's what my father does, and I won't accept it from him or you."
"I'm trying to protect you," I whispered, hating how my voice broke.
"From what? From caring about you more than I should?" He laughed, harsh and hurt. "Too late. That ship has fucking sailed."
We stood there in the echo of the empty pool facility, chlorine-scented air heavy between us. I could see our future stretching ahead – him sacrificing opportunity after opportunity, me drowning in guilt, both of us circling feelings we were too scared to name.
"I got into UC San Diego," I said quietly. "Early admission to their medical program."
His hands dropped from my shoulders like I'd burned him. "When?"
"Yesterday. Full scholarship. Top-tier oncology research." I forced myself to meet his eyes. "I'm taking it."
"San Diego," he repeated, his voice deadly quiet. "Three thousand miles away."
"Three thousand miles from here," I corrected. "Where you can rebuild without me dragging you down. Where teams might forget the controversy and remember your talent."
"You're running," he accused, and the betrayal in his voice cut deep. "Using geography to avoid whatever this is between us."
"There is no 'this,'" I lied, the words tasting like poison. "We're friends who got caught up in crisis mode. That's all."
"Bullshit." The word came out like a slap. "Look me in the eye and tell me that's all you feel."
I couldn't. We both knew I couldn't.
"It doesn't matter what I feel," I said instead. "I'm being practical. We both need to focus on our futures—"
"Our future," he interrupted, voice breaking slightly. "Together. That's what I've been hoping for."
"No," I said, hating myself for the word. "What we've been building is a disaster. Look around, Liam. Your career is in shambles. My family is threatening lawsuits. We're destroying each other."
"We're the best thing that's ever happened to each other," he shot back desperately. "Everything good in my life right now exists because of you. Because of whatever this thing is that you won't admit."
"Everything bad too," I pointed out, wrapping my arms around myself. "The lost opportunities, the family rifts—"
