Page 97 of Princess of Hawthorne Prep

In hindsight, I can’t blame her for insisting on it. I was an asshole and should have placed more trust in her.

Even though every instinct is prodding me to pursue her with a single-mindedness, I’ve done as she requested and kept my distance.

It’s fucking torture.

She’s like the sun, and all I want to do is revolve around her brilliance.

You need to let me go.

Those six words cut me to the core and make me feel like I’ll bleed out.

Deep down, I know if I’d laid my hands on her, I could have changed her mind. But how could I do that after the hell I put her through?

The answer is that I couldn’t.

I wasn’t lying when I told her that I loved her. I’ve never said that to anyone else other than family.

But I do.

I love Delilah.

It’s for that reason I need to make my peace with her decision. If she honestly doesn’t believe I’m what’s best, then I need to move on. Although it doesn’t feel like I’ll ever get over her. She’ll forever lurk in the back of my brain and in my heart as the one who got away.

The one I allowed to slip through my fingers.

And that sucks.

The knock on the closed bedroom door jerks me from those depressing thoughts. Before I can tell whoever it is to go away, Summer pokes her head inside the room.

“Hey.” Her voice is tentative as if I’m minutes away from leaping off the nearest skyscraper.

I grunt out a response. It’s the best I can muster under the circumstances.

What’s funny is that I’ve never had a problem shaking off past relationships and moving on in the blink of an eye. I’d go so far as to say it’s always been a relief when they ended.

This is anything but.

This feels like someone plunged their hand into my chest and ripped out my beating heart before holding it up for everyone to inspect.

When I remain silent, she slips further inside the room before leaning against the door frame.

“Want to talk?”

I snort.

Hell, no.

“Austin…” Her voice trails off as if she’s unsure how to voice her concerns.

She should really know better by now. I know what she’s thinking without her having to verbalize it.

Call it a twin thing.

Taking pity on her, I mutter, “You know that I’m not really in the mood for company, right?”

“Yeah, but I really hate seeing you like this.”

I don’t like it any better than she does, but there’s nothing I can do except move through it the best I can.

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