Page 26 of Exes That Puck
“I feel like that’s all I do. Make the same mistakes.”
“Because you don’t really listen when people try to tell you there’s a better way. You get defensive instead of curious.”
The truth of it settles in my stomach like a stone. How many times did Kara try to tell me what she needed? How many times did I dismiss her concerns or turn them back on her instead of actually hearing what she was saying?
“You’re like your father in that way,” my mom says gently. “Stubborn as hell. But you’ve got my heart, which means you can change if you want to.”
“How do I want to change when I don’t even know what I’m supposed to change into?”
“Start with listening. Really listening. Not just waiting for your turn to talk.”
I close my eyes, thinking about tonight. About all the times Kara tried to explain why we don’t work, and all the times I argued instead of actually considering what she was telling me.
“Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“Kara and I are broken up. Like, really broken up this time.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know you love her.”
“I don’t think love is enough anymore.”
“Sometimes it’s not. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t real or that it didn’t matter.”
“It’s only been a couple weeks, but it feels like forever.”
“Heartbreak doesn’t go away that fast, honey. Give it time. In time, you’ll be okay.”
We talk for a few more minutes about nothing in particular. A brief update on her garden, my classes, Dylan’s boring life. Normal mom-and-son conversation that makes me feel grounded in a way I haven’t felt in weeks.
After we hang up, I sit in the dark kitchen for a long time, processing everything Dylan and my mom said. The common thread is clear that I’m the problem. Not Kara. Not our circumstances or bad timing or outside interference. Me.
The realization should be devastating, but instead it feels almost liberating. If I’m the problem, then I can be the solution. I can learn to listen. I can work on my control issues. I can become the kind of person who enhances someone’s life instead of consuming it.
I can become the man Kara deserves.
But first, I need to let her go. Really let her go. Not because I don’t love her, but because I do.
My phone feels heavy in my hands as I open our text thread. The blocked contact screen stares back at me, but I type out a message anyway…
I’m sorry for everything. I’m going to work on myself to become the man you deserve. I love you, Kara.
I stare at the words for a long time before hitting send.
The message fails to deliver.
Shit. She blocked my dumbass, remember?
I unsend the message, frustration burning in my chest. This is exactly what she was talking about. I can’t even respect her boundaries when I’m trying to apologize for not respecting her boundaries.
But maybe that’s the point. Maybe the most respectful thing I can do is leave her alone. Let her heal. Let her find someone who knows how to love her without drowning her.
I put my phone away and head to my room, but sleep doesn’t come. Instead, I lie in the dark thinking about all the ways I could have been better. All the moments I chose control over trust, possession over partnership.
In the dorms, Kara is probably lying awake too. Probably regretting tonight, wishing she’d been strong enough to walk away when she had the chance.
I wish I could tell her that she was right. That we’re wrong for each other the way we are now. That she deserves someone who makes her feel free instead of trapped.
