The Ex Files (Ocean View #1)(70)

“You’re right. It’s not fair. It’s not fair you experienced such shit your whole life and were so betrayed. It’s not fair your parents never put you first after they split so you wouldn’t feel this. It’s not fair your mother made you live her own heartbreak over and over again, made you experience it alongside her. Made it so painful, you now shield yourself from love because of it.”

“This has nothing to do with that. We don’t work. We can’t work, Luke. Please. I’m sorry, but this ends here.” Her eyes are dead, but there’s a glimmer in them, a glimmer of tears that is killing me. Tearing through me like a bullet.

“Give it a shot, Cass. Give me a shot.”

“I can’t, Luke. I can’t do it.” I know what she’s really saying. I can’t risk it. But I’d risk it all for her if she would just fucking let me. And the balance of that kills me.

“You spend your whole life telling yourself everyone is deceiving you with some kind of mask, pretending to be something they’re not. Look in the fucking mirror, Cassie. The only one deceiving you is yourself. You’re keeping you from being happy because you’re too worried about protecting yourself before you can even get close enough to get hurt.” I watch her, her face hard, and I know there’s emotion under there, emotion she’s hiding or guarding, but all I see is cold. All I see is her not outwardly falling apart the way I am, not caring what happens next. Long moments pass as I stare at her, waiting. Waiting for her to say something, anything. To tell me I’m wrong, she wants to give it a chance, that she’s scared. Anything.

But she says nothing, straightening the clothes she put back on at some point, staring at me like I’m a nuisance and she has better things to do.

Fuck it.

“You know what, Cass? Fuck it. Set me up. Set up something with that chick, give me her info. At least she’s ready to open herself to something, to someone.”

And with that, I turn and leave, already regretting every word I just spewed. Regretting them but too proud to turn around and keep trying to get through to her.





Thirty-Two





-Cassie-





His name might as well be highlighted, bolded, and blown up to 100 point font with how quickly my eye finds it.

Two days later, Gabi and I are doing our Friday recap to go over all potential matches, any dates I went on over the week (none, which is a first, but in my state…), and any dates which have either occurred or will occur over the weekend.

The ‘Friday Dates’ roster says ‘Maya Richards and Luke Dawson.’

Maya Richards and Luke Dawson

Maya Richards and Luke Dawson.

Luke Dawson.

I’m not allowed to be hurt or annoyed or frustrated. I turned him down. I told Gabi to set up the date. And then I turned him down again.

It’s all on me.

But it burns.

“Cassie?” Gabi’s voice breaks through my thoughts, the staring down of my paper, the molten pit in my stomach. I can’t help but wonder when it will go away. It’s been churning there, eating through me since Sunday night. Probably longer, if you count the three weeks I dreaded moving on from Luke.

How was I so, so stupid? So stupid to think I could keep myself out of this.

“Yeah?”

“I’m leaving, okay?” She’s standing in front of me in a dark jacket, her bag over her shoulder. How long have I been zoning out on the list?

“Oh, crap, yeah. Have fun with your sister, okay?” She’s going a couple of towns over to stay with her sister, hang out with her nephews.

“Yeah.” She pauses, looking at me. “You okay? I can stay here if you need…”

“No, go, Gabi. I’m right behind you. Just need to clean up.” She nods, looking at me once more.

“Okay, well, you have a good weekend, okay? Call me if you want… need anything. Anything at all. Work or… otherwise.” She’s a good friend.

“Thanks, Gabi. Now go before I kick you out.” She smiles and then leaves me alone, the room painfully quiet, my lonely weekend sprawling before me with dread.

This is how I spend every weekend. Alone, getting take out, going for a run, taking a pilates class. I crafted my life to be this way, made it exactly how I wanted.

But why does it suddenly feel so damn lonely?

Sighing, I shake my head as I stand, lifting my notepad and binder, knocking over my cup of pens. They scatter everywhere.

“Godammit,” I say, squatting to pick them up. My hand reaches under my desk to grab a pen, but instead of a pen, it touches paper. Feeling around, I get a good grasp on it before pulling out the small scrap, unsure of what I’ll find.

It’s folded into a small heart.

Red peeks out of the white paper.

I don’t need to unfold to know what it is, what it says.

My mind reels trying to figure out how it got here. It’s three weeks old at this point. It should be wrecked, gone through the wash, a torn-up mess. But… it’s pristine. A bit crumbled, like it’s traveled for some time, but…

It hits me.

Luke must have had it. It must have been on him or in his pocket the day he came here, the day he busted in and tried to convince me to change my mind. When he bent me over my desk, his jeans thrown in the corner, his wallet tumbling out and under my desk, I remember him angrily feeling around and finding it as he got dressed. As I told him no. As I broke my own heart.