One Baby Daddy (Dating by Numbers #3)(60)

No.

Not even a little.

This has been so much more than a fling. This relationship has changed me. Hayden has opened my eyes to my worth. He has shown me I deserve so much more than a one-night stand; I deserve someone who will respect me, challenge me, and make me feel beautiful inside and out.

But my truth doesn’t matter right now. Because setting aside how he broke my heart with his meanness—even though I know he didn’t mean what he said—what would happen if I told him this was so much more to me than a fling? What would be the point? He’d want to try to make it work. He’d move to Los Angeles, I’d stay in Binghamton, and we’d FaceTime every night. He’d never be able to visit me with all the training he’ll have to start soon with the new team. I won’t be able to visit, because my schedule is far too demanding. We’ll get in fights because we never see each other and then the inevitable will happen: We’ll break up.

So why go through the pain? Why hang on to something that is broken already? There’s no point. It’s better to end things now than to give each other hope.

Summing up all the courage I have, I tell one of the biggest lies of my life.

“It was just fun for me.”

It hurts.

All of this hurts.

I’m broken.

Cut.

Bruised and battered, his assumption of me still swarms around in my mind.

I can’t make eye contact with him. I can’t possibly see the hurt I’ve caused him, and I can’t let him see the hurt he’s caused me. This is hard enough as it is. Living with that image in my mind will be too much.

Letting go of my hand, he takes a step back, his voice so full of anger I’m startled when he speaks. “Fucking look me in the eyes when you say that.”

Breathe, Adalyn. One breath at a time. Push back the tears, push down your feelings.

Taking a deep breath, I lift my head. Hayden is vibrating with stormy eyes, glowering. There is an infinitesimal twitch in his jaw, and from the look of it, his fingernails are digging painfully into his palms.

“Say it,” he repeats, emphasizing each word with barked precision.

Tongue-tied and on the verge of breaking down, I twist my fingers together, keeping my eyes locked on his. “This was just fun for me.”

“Fuck,” he bellows, turning away from me and pulling on the back of his head, his biceps pulsing under his shirt.

Oh God, this is so terrible. The world seems to move in slow motion as Hayden angrily paces the living room, and I can’t breathe. With each pass of his distraught body, my heart stutters in my chest, spinning, colliding, then falling to the ground.

I can’t take much more of this. It’s too much. “I’m going to go.”

Whipping around, Hayden heaves, looking like he’s about to explode any second. “So that’s it. You’re just going to leave?”

“Well, you didn’t expect me to stay for dinner, did you?” The words are so bitter falling from my lips.

I hate myself.

I truly and utterly hate myself.

“Fuck, I actually thought you gave a shit about me, Adalyn. But I guess I was wrong. You got what you wanted, didn’t you? And now you’ll leave.”

“It wasn’t like that,” I croak out, needing to defend myself. I’m trying to leave with dignity, but I won’t be dragged through the mud in the process.

“Oh, it wasn’t? It seems like it. We fucked and now you’re on your way. Isn’t that what you did with every other man you’ve ever been with?”

Low blow.

Again.

But it’s justified. That’s the message I’m giving him.

Twisting my lips to the side, I attempt to steady the shake in my jaw, the weariness in my voice, the tears willing to fall, but I can only hold back so much. A lonely tear falls down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away but not before Hayden sees it.

The crease in his brow lessens, the anger in his features softens. He can see it, can’t he? He can see the lies in my eyes.

“Adalyn.” His voice shakes, his body moving toward mine, but I step away and shake my head.

“I have to go.” Stepping back towards the open door, I make an attempt to leave, but Hayden presses his hand against the door, his overbearing body eating up the space between us.

“You don’t really want to go, do you?”

Another tear.

“Don’t do this. Just let me go.”

“I . . .” His voice deceives him. “I fucking can’t.” Lifting my chin, he searches my eyes, his eyes darting back and forth, looking for something, for any kind of tell. “Can we talk? Please?”

Lowering my head, I shake it. “There is no use, Hayden. There is no point in dragging on the inevitable. You’re moving to Los Angeles. I’m staying here. Let’s call it like it is.”

“And what’s that?” he grinds out.

Lifting my gaze, I hold my breath. “A summer fling I will forever remember.”

Twisting his lips, his jaw shifting back and forth, he punches the door behind me before lifting away and shouting, “Fuck.”

Not able to take any more, my heart crumbling into an unfixable pile, I turn my back and slip out the door. I jog to my car, and the minute the door shuts, I let out a wail of a cry and rest my head against the steering wheel. Catching my breath, I start my car and look out the window where I find Hayden standing in the frame of his front door, both hands pulling on the back of his neck, the lift of his shirt showing off a patch of tan skin on his narrow waist.