Page 5 of Why Not Me?

Josh leans over my shoulder and groans, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Shut up. I rear-ended her today, she’s coming in tomorrow so I can check out the damage. Seeing her brought back a lot of memories, and now I have my chance to make things right, to fix my mistake.” I click on her profile picture and scroll through them.

“Do you see that guy? He’s in years’ worth of photos. Do you honestly think that nine months with you outweighs years with that guy? Don’t you see how messed up this is? Refer her to someone else. Let her live her life.” Josh points at the photo I’ve stopped on. Allie is sitting on some guy’s shoulders, her hands tangled in his curly hair. They’re both in swimsuits and smiling at the camera. The date on the photo is from four years ago.

“Josh, I can’t. I just—I need to be near her.” My voice comes out strained, desperate. He doesn’t get it, he doesn’t understand the connection we share, the one I threw away. Now that I have my chance to see her, I won’t give it up. We’ve never been able to resist each other and this need isn’t going anywhere.

“You’re an asshole,” he growls.

“I know, but that’s not going to stop me from seeing her. Even if it’s just one more time.” I sigh.

This is my chance. I’m not going to throw it away.

Waking up after an awful night’s sleep, I drag myself out of bed toward the bathroom. Glancing behind me to a sleeping Brendan, his curly hair sticking out all over the place makes me smile. The hole in my heart that was reopened yesterday afternoon has a Band-Aid over it. The safe comfort of Brendan’s arms preventing me from leaping into a black hole of memories.

The same arms that put me back together, protecting the cracks from breaking even further all those years ago, held me together once again last night. It kept that question that taunted me for years,why not me,from resurfacing.

Brushing my teeth, I avoid looking in the mirror. I’m mad at myself. I’m angry that I’m so weak a person that someone from my past still has so much power over my emotions. That he still holds a large piece of my heart, even after he stomped on it. That even now, I’m still wonderingwhy not me,even though I shouldn’t be.

After seven years, I should be able to look at him and be angry that he ended things over the phone, or better yet, not feel anything at all.

I should be able to look at the man who has loved me for six years and realize I have what I need. Yet, I can’t shut off the way he still permeates my thoughts on a regular basis. I’ve tried. I’ve tried every single day since that night.

Yanking a brush through my hair, I relish in the pain I deserve as it rips through the tangles.

He chose someone else. Someone he said I didn’t need to worry about. He picked her, not me. Brendan picked me. He loves me, every part of me. With him, I’ll never need to wonder or doubt his feelings. He is safe, he loves me, he makes me laugh, and we have a wonderful life together.

“Good morning.” Brendan walks into the bathroom, stretching his arms above his head before wrapping them around me. Looking up, I’m surprised to see he looks sad. His voice is muffled as he speaks into my hair. “You didn’t sleep well last night.”

Closing my eyes, I breathe in his comforting scent. “I had a nasty headache from the accident. I’m going to see a physical therapist this morning.”

Angling my head when he leans down to kiss my neck, I smile into the mirror as our eyes meet and ignore the wrenching guilt about not telling him the full story behind the accident.

“Do you want me to come with you?” He turns me to face him, lifting me onto the counter so he can step between my legs.

Panic fills me at the idea of Brendan seeing me near Landon. He knows me too well, he’ll know something’s up. Clasping his shoulders, I lean forward to kiss his cheek. “Nah, enjoy your morning. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

He smiles as he kisses me once more before turning to switch on the shower, the warm steam doing nothing for the chills running through my body.

I finish getting ready for the day, tying my hair into a messy bun before throwing on sweats and a hoodie. It’s tempting to dress up, but I won’t give in. I shouldn’t need to impress him.

Maybe there’s a silver lining to this weird and uncomfortable situation. This will give me an opportunity to finally have closure on the Landon issue. That’s what I’ve needed all these years. A chance for the door that was left slightly ajar in my mind to finally shut. Not that I would ask him why he picked her instead of me, but an opening to say a real goodbye, not a heartless sever over the phone.

Two hours later I’m parked outside of Landon’s clinic, Freedom Physical Therapy, trying to find the strength I need to go in, get evaluated by Landon, and get out unscathed and hopefully ready to finally let go.

Slinging my purse over my shoulder, I take a few calming breaths before leaving my car and entering the building. No one is at the front desk, in fact the entire open space is empty. This is my opportunity to leave, to walk out and not look back. I start to turn, but before I can take a step Landon comes out of an office I didn’t notice in my cursory glance.

“Allie, I’m glad you made it.” His eyes scan over me, a trail of heat following the path of his gaze. He steps in close, pressing his thumb into the tender skin around the large bruise on my forehead. Before I can think about what I’m doing, I’m leaning into his touch, my eyes drifting shut.

There is something unique about the way his hand feels on my skin. The connection is powerful, the draw instant, and I find myself falling into another memory.

Landon is kissing my neck, specifically the spot that instantly makes me moan in need. The palms of his hands rub my back, before pressing into my lower back to pull me into his arms. It’s a stolen moment, one we shouldn’t be taking, but all common sense and morality flies out the window when we’re together.

“Allie . . .” His words are tortured. He needs this as much as I do, but his guilt is starting to eat at him. He needs to make a choice.

With a sharp breath, I jump back as I think about the consequences of what’s happening. He probably hasn’t thought about me since that night, or if he has they’ve been fleeting thoughts that don’t matter. He let go of us. Unlike me, I’ve never quite let go. Tears fill my eyes as pain shoots through my neck, but the pain in my heart is even worse.

“Oh—shit—ow.” The words are a low groan, the pain in them a mixture of physical and emotional.

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