Make Me Hate You(15)

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” I mocked, turning long enough to look him dead in the eyes when I said, “Where have I heard those excuses before?”

That stopped Tyler in his tracks, and we both stood still in that yard, staring at each other, the meaning of my accusation loud and clear between us. In that moment, I didn’t see the new man Tyler had become since I’d left Bridgechester. I saw the boy who scarred me.

“I’m sorry, Jaz. I… I didn’t mean to. It was a mistake. We shouldn’t tell anyone.”

Tyler’s voice quivered on the phone, and so did my bottom lip as I tried to fight back the surge of emotion his words conjured up.

My graduation cap and gown hung together over my closet door in the small bedroom I’d lived in for the past four years. It wasn’t much, but my aunt had done everything she could to help me make it my own.

Sitting alone on my bed with Tyler on the other end of the phone telling me he didn’t want me rang too close to the sentiment my mother had told me only days before.

I didn’t want any more apologies.

I didn’t want any more excuses for why no one ever chose me.

All I wanted in that moment was to burn my graduation gown and the picture of me and my mother on my bedside table and the memory of Tyler’s hands on me and the entire town of Bridgechester, too.

I wanted to leave and never look back.

And I decided right then and there, that’s exactly what I would do.

I swallowed as I waited for Tyler to respond, the flash of that life-changing moment hitting me like a semi-truck. Still, I stood tall, chin high, and when he didn’t take his chance to explain, I turned on my heel and made my way back inside the house without another look in his direction.

He didn’t try to stop me this time.





“Hey, gorgeous,” Jacob said the next morning, his lazy grin filling my laptop’s screen once our call loaded. The instant I saw his smile and his messy, just-woke-up shag of strawberry blond hair, I smiled.

“Not so gorgeous right now,” I pointed out, gesturing to the sweaty bird’s nest of a bun on top of my head and the lack of makeup, lack of sleep, lack of anything remotely close too cute. I hadn’t even showered since my run this morning, and I was glad he couldn’t smell me through the screen.

“You’re always beautiful. How’s my girl today?”

My heart fluttered at his response, as it always did when he spoke to me. He revered me like a queen, it seemed, always showing me kindness and care. I’d never dated anyone like him, where there were no games, no pretenses of trying to play hard to get. We knew from the moment we met that we liked each other, and we didn’t bullshit.

We dated, and became exclusive after a week, and from that moment on, I never had to wonder what I meant to him.

Healthy relationships were weird.

“Tired,” I answered with a croaky voice. I rubbed my throat at the sound, frowning. I had a podcast to record in two days, and that was not the sound I needed to hear. “But otherwise, good. It’s been nonstop since my plane landed.”

“I caught on to that, based on how little we’ve been texting,” he teased. The freckles on his cheeks danced with his smile, and when he propped his head up on one elbow, I was distracted by his firm bicep, wishing I could lie on his chest and feel that arm wrapped around me. “How’s my favorite person?”

“I just told you how I am.”

“I meant Aunt Laura.”

I chuckled. “She’s still weird, which is just how I like her. And she’s still obsessed with you, too.”

“Hey, you told me I had one person to win over, and I didn’t take that lightly.”

“I said win her over, not make her second in line to marry you if I don’t.”

We both laughed at that, but I didn’t miss the way his forest green eyes watched me, curiously — like he was wondering if I’d been thinking about us like that.

Thinking about marriage.

Jacob and I had only been dating for a little over seven months, but I knew after just three that he was serious about his intentions with me. Whereas I was intent on going slow, having fun, enjoying just dating, I could feel his need for more as time passed. He’d casually brought up what kind of ring I would want, how I would want to be proposed to, what kind of house I’d like, where I’d like to set roots, if I wanted kids…

It was all normal, necessary conversation for a couple in a healthy relationship.

But for some reason, every time we went there, I clammed up.

“How’s work?” I asked, changing the subject before it could linger too long on the M word. Jacob was in the influencer world like me, except his focus centered around fitness. He had five-hundred-thousand followers on Instagram, many who paid top dollar for his CrossFit videos and sported his brand on their t-shirts, tank tops, hats, and more like it was Nike. When we’d first started dating, we did a collaboration, him designing a runner-focused clothing line with my name on it, and me hosting a seven-week motivation podcast series with him.

And just like that, our relationship became a public entity, too.

“Busy,” he said on a sigh, but his smile was proud. “I’m nearly doubling my subscribers on the app every week, which blows my mind, so I’ve been scrambling to up my content on there so there’s plenty for them to digest once they subscribe. And I have that video shoot with HIIT Magazine tomorrow.”