Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Just because I’m telling you to take an amazing opportunity, that doesn’t mean I’m pushing you away.”
How much longer is this drive? I need air. I need to get out of this truck. I really need to buy a new fucking car.
“If you say so,” Whit mutters.
Suddenly, Whit’s not so interested in talking anymore, and that’s fine with me. Because he’s wrong. I’m not pushing him away.
When he pulls up outside my apartment and doesn’t throw the truck in Park, I know he’s not coming in.
“That’s how it’s going to be, is it?”
Whit’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Yeah.”
I unclick my seat belt and open the door, but I don’t get out. I’m trying to find the right words when he stops me altogether.
“I’m not going to Scranton. End of story.”
“Why are you so determined to fuck up your future?”
Whit laughs. “Me? You can turn that one around on yourself.”
“I’m happy at Vino and Veritas. It’s a great place to work.”
“You might be happy, but you’re not fulfilled. I’ll get both of those things from staying on my family’s farm. It’s you who has a problem with this, not me.”
“You say your decision has nothing to do with me, but if that’s the case, why did you keep it from me?”
“Because I knew you’d react this way. Hockey might have been your calling, your life, but it’s not mine.”
“Can you seriously sit there and tell me that the reason why you’re not even contemplating it has nothing to do with me?”
Whit’s jaw hardens.
“Take me out of the equation,” I say. “Is your answer still the same?”
“That’s the problem, Rainn!” He turns to me, his eyes colder than they’ve ever been. “I shouldn’t be taking you out of the equation. You’re my boyfriend, and unlike you, I can’t dismiss that label as easily as you apparently did with your past girlfriends. You are a factor in my life because you’re important. Don’t you get that?”
Last night, I would have loved to have heard that. Last night, I would’ve kissed him stupid.
Today, it’s too much.
It’s too … permanent.
I can’t handle it. It’s too much pressure and too much like making a future plan.
I can’t put myself in the same situation to be hurt again when it all goes away.
“I’m not your forever, Whit. I know that’s hard to hear, but it’s a reality. It has always been the reality. Because I’m no one’s forever. Nothing is permanent, and everyone is temporary. At least in my world. So don’t hold back because of me. Don’t stay in Vermont because of me.”
Whit’s hardened jaw doesn’t move. He averts his gaze and stares out the windshield, giving me a curt nod. “Got it.”
“Whit—”
“I should go. I’m double-parked.”
Meaning, get the fuck out of my truck.
I don’t want to. I really don’t.
But I know I should.
My feet have barely hit the ground, and the door isn’t even completely shut when he drives away.
I’m confident Whit just needs time to cool off, but it’s taking longer for that to happen than I thought it would.
Because I took the weekend off, I’m filling in on my usual nights off, and I’m certain he’ll show up at the bar, park his ass on his stool, and smile at me like Sunday didn’t happen.
I’m back to where I was months ago, lifting my head every time someone enters and getting disappointed when it’s not him.
I’ve had days to go over the fight in my head, and I’ve thought about it countless times. I can see why he thinks that was me pushing him away, and maybe I was, but I didn’t mean to. I don’t want to lose him, but I can’t be the reason he doesn’t pursue hockey.
If it were a person who had kept me from playing in the NHL, I would hate them with all my being. I don’t want to be that person for Whit.
He says he’s not interested and that he’s happy here, but his flat-out refusal to even go meet with the guy is stubborn as hell.
Then there’s the other side of his argument—the part where he thought I’m projecting my issues on to him—but I’m not ready to explore that.
One, because I’m scared he’s right. But more importantly, I shoved all that shit down years ago, and I’m not about to open that can of worms now.
I have to hope he’ll come around.
“Geez, and people say I’m absent.” Molly’s voice breaks me out of my stupor, and I realize I’m standing at the bar, customer in front of me and my coworker Molly serving them around me, while I stare into nothingness.
I snap out of it. “Shit, sorry.”
Molly waves me off. “Please. Gives me a break from being the screw-up for once.”
“You’re not a screw-up.” Intentionally. I don’t say that part out loud, though.