Page 55 of The Rival (Looking to Score 2)
Maybe he’s just talking about hockey. Maybe I’m reading into it, looking for an excuse to do the cowardly thing and protect my heart. Maybe I haven’t changed as much as I thought I did.
“How about you?” Alex blinks at me, cocking his head to the side.
I don’t want things to go back to normal, because “normal” means that we go back to being strangers. I don’t want to lose you, Alex. I’m in love with you.
I hear the words so clearly in my head, but I can’t say any of that. When I open my mouth, I’m not sure what will come out.
“Me too. Can’t wait to get back into the swing of things.”
I’m not sure what we talk about after that, since all my focus is devoted to the single task of not crying.
Before he leaves to run errands in town, Alex pulls me into the kind of hug that is so comfortable and familiar, I almost lose it right then and there. I manage to pull away without letting a single tear fall, but not before memorizing the smell of him through his hoodie. Man and mint soap.
Upstairs, I watch through the bedroom window as he climbs into his car and drives out of view down the road. And that’s when the dam breaks. With stinging eyes and hiccupping sobs, I let myself fall apart. I collapse onto the bed and bury my face in his pillow.
This hurts so much. Why can’t he see how perfect we’d be together?
I can’t let Alex see me like this. And there’s no way I can endure the next few days of pretending he’s just my friend-with-benefits. With no other choice but to flee, I rise to my feet and blow my nose. Then I get to work.
Tearing around the room, I toss my clothes, shoes, and toiletries into my suitcase. I know it’s premature, not to mention immature, but every atom in my body is screaming at me to run. So I shove all traces of my summer stay into my suitcase, erasing any evidence that I was ever here at all.
I yank the festive moose ornament from its spot on my windowsill and shove it in my purse. I gather all the spa gifts Alex got me for my birthday from their spot on the floor next to the clawfoot tub. I snatch up the book I’m still reading from the living room windowsill—the book I was planning on finishing before I left the cabin. I roll up my yoga mat on the deck and tie it haphazardly to my suitcase. Each item I pack away is accompanied by a montage of memories starring the man I fell for despite all logic.
God, I’m such an idiot. He was right to push me away after that first night.
Just as I’m about to roll my suitcase out the door for the very last time, I pause.
I can’t leave without any explanation. Alex will think something’s happened to me, or worse, that he did something wrong. I don’t want to explain to him that I couldn’t cope with my unrequited feelings, but I need to leave him a note. Sniffling, I wipe my wet cheeks dry with the back of my hand.
Once I find a scrap of paper in a kitchen drawer, I settle in to write my good-bye letter—no, that’s too dramatic. It’s just a note, like a GONE FISHING sign or a BE BACK IN FIVE placard. Except I won’t be back.
I chew on my raw lip. With an unsteady hand, I write:
Alex,
I decided to head back to Boston a few days early. I got a lead on an apartment I really like, and I want to see it in person before it gets snatched up by someone else. Just wanted you to know that I wasn’t kidnapped or anything.
Thank you for your help with the cabin this summer. I’ll see you when the season starts—I know it’s gonna be a great one.
Aspen
I lay the pen down and turn in a slow circle, trying to memorize the place that has brought me so much peace and purpose this summer, right when I needed it the most. Wearing a smile tinged with sadness, I roll my suitcase out the cabin’s front door and lock up for the last time . . . leaving a few thousand pieces of my heart inside.
21
* * *
ALEX
“You sure you don’t want to come?” I asked Aspen one last time as I lingered in the kitchen before heading to town.
She shook her head, glancing at me over one shoulder. “That’s okay. You go ahead. I’m going to finish a few things here and call my mom back.”
I nodded. There was something different about her tone, but I let it go. “Okay. I won’t be gone long. Text me if you need anything.”
