Page 88 of Sloane

He let out a sigh, like he was exasperated.

“Look, Ashley. I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to come out and tell you. You need to move on.”

“And I told you; I’m not going anywhere. I love you. And I know you love me, too. Let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help. I have help here.”

“It’s different when people you love are with you.”

“I. Don’t. Want. You. Here. I’m not your special project to fix. I’m damaged goods. I’ve accepted that, and you need to as well.”

“I don’t care that you’re injured. I work with people every day who’ve lost a limb, and they’re able to lead normal lives.”

“And how many of them are disfigured?”

“You’re not the first person I’ve met with scars, Sloane.”

“How could you possibly want to be seen with me, when you’re so shallow that you’re embarrassed over a birthmark? You’d be mortified at what I look like. And unlike you, I don’t have the luxury of scheduling a doctor’s visit to have my embarrassment removed.”

“Wow,” I muttered, dumbfounded. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“Move on, Ashley. I’m going to.”

And without another word, he hung up, leaving me stunned, not to mention, pissed off.

~~~~

I laid on Tammy’s couch and poured my heart out.

When Sloane first hung up on me, I’d been fuming. Now I was just… sad.

“I’m so stupid,” I reiterated for the hundredth time. “I was nothing more than his glorified beef jerky supplier and weekend-leave fuck. And I fell for his bullshit, hook, line and sinker. Never again.”

“Oh, don’t say that. You opened yourself up to love, and there’s nothing wrong with that. You just chose the wrong guy.”

“I bared my soul to him, Tam,” I said as my eyes welled with tears. “And I thought he’d done the same.”

I sat up when she dropped down on the couch next to me and gratefully accepted one of her hugs.

“I’m so sorry, honey. He’s an asshole for what he did. Injured or not, he doesn’t get a pass for being such a dick.”

“He made me feel so special,” I lamented. “And it was all a big lie.”

“Ash, I think you were special to him, but people come in and out of our lives for a reason. Maybe he came into your life to open you up to the possibility of love, and you were in his to help him get through this tour. But you’ve each served your purpose, and it’s time to let go.”

“I know you’re right. I just don’t know how. It hurts so bad sometimes, I feel like I can’t breathe.”

“I know it’s cliché, but time heals all wounds.”

It felt like I was going to need a hundred years for my heart to get over him.

~~~~

A week later, when I received a box from Germany, I felt a flash of hope that he’d changed his mind and was sending some sort of peace offering.

Then I opened it to find all the letters I’d written to him in the last two months, unread.

I thought back to the night at the bar when all the women were throwing themselves at him, practically begging him to give them the time of day, and he’d seemed unfazed by their attention. How I’d told myself back then that I’d never be that girl. I was better than that.

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