Page 50 of Never Really Over

He stands up quickly and glares at me, pointing an angry finger. “That’s the last time you say those words to me. Especially in front of her daughter.” He blows out a breath and shoves his hat off his head, threading his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t say I think it’s her fault. But I understand why she thinks it is. Bring her over. I’ll talk to her.”

“No.”

“No? Why not? So her guilt can eat her alive? I’m telling you I don’t think it’s her fault but I get where she’s coming from, Layla. No one can talk her out of this but me.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m not, but think what you want. You always did have your opinions about me that I didn’t agree with so I’m not surprised.”

“There it is. The anger that’s been beneath the surface all this time. You still hate me for breaking up with you and haven’t gotten over it. Haven’t gotten overme.”

He breathes out a chuckle that completely lacks humor. “No anger. I lost that a long time ago, Layla. Right along with my feelings for you. If it makes you feel better to think I’ve been sitting around pining over you all these years, go ahead and think it. But this,” he points a finger, motioning between us, “whatever this is? You coming over, spending time here, helping me out, it’s just bringing it all back to me. It’s just a stark reminder of what used to be and how different we are. I get it. You feel bad for leaving and you’re back now and you only have Dalton and his fiancée as friends and you finally realized that the rest of us aren’t so bad after all. Now you’re screwing with my head, making me think that you actually give a damn and like us again.”

He shakes his head, hands on his hips as he looks around the room. He’s angry with me.

“It’s not an act,” I try to tell him.

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. I don’t know because I no longer know you. I’m not the one who’s been seeking you out, Layla, so maybe you’re the one who never got over me.” He jabs his thumb in his chest, frustration coming off him in waves. “You keep showing up here at my house uninvited and hang around as if you actually want to be here with me. You’re making me think that all those years that you were gone were just a vacation and not you telling me you didn’t love me or, heck, even like me all that much. You broke my heart, Layla, and it took me a long time to get over it. I turned into someone I wasn’t proud of because of it.”

Dalton told me that Colt and I were never really over, and I think he’s right. Someone doesn’t get as passionate as Colt is about an ex if there aren’t feelings still lingering. Right?

“I’m making you think things? Like what? Like we were good once and could be again?”

“You’re not listening! Whatever it is you think you’re doing here, it’s done. No more. We’re different now. I’m the same old Colt and you’re not the same Layla. Look around, Layla. We do things differently here than Chicago. We’re still up in each other’s business and I don’t mind one bit about it. But now you’re back and I won’t let you weasel your way back into my life simply because it’s once again convenient for you. Like I said, I haven’t changed from the man you once walked away from and I damn sure am not going to apologize for that. But you know what? You changed from the person who I once loved. The person I loved wasn’t this stuck-up snob who looked down her nose at people.” His words hit me like a slap across my cheek. Deep and painful, tears stinging the back of my eyes that I won’t let fall. “Say what you want, but I’m hard-pressed to believe you when you say you were only jealous and that’s why you said those things. You still think I’m this undereducated idiot who will never be good enough. And I don’t think for one second that you’re actually going to stay around. It’s who you are, Layla. You left once and you’ll leave again. Only this time, I won’t give you my heart to run away with.”

“That’s what you think of me,” I say rather than ask. “It’s what you think I think of you.”

“That’s what I think of you and yeah, I said what I said,” he confirms.

“Then I guess there’s nothing else to say. I’ll leave now.”

Not waiting for him to say another word, or see the tears that are nearly falling from my eyes, I run out of his house, grabbing my shoes along the way. The gravel bites into the bottom of my feet but doesn’t slow me down. Thankfully I drove separate from the girls when I came over earlier so I can at least make my getaway quickly. But it isn’t done gracefully.

No.

Rather than getting into my car and driving away without a second glance, I turn my head and stare at what could have been. A man standing on the steps to his home with an adorable little girl in his arms as they watch me drive away. A life with someone I told myself I no longer wanted. A man who I convinced myself wasn’t the love of my life.

* * *

“I thoughtI was the one who needed watched over.” I hear Mom say as she shakes my leg, trying to wake me up.

“Go away.”

“So you can throw up all over my carpeting? I’d rather not. Get up. Explain yourself.”

I sit up and slowly turn on the bed, my feet hitting the plush carpet my mom is so worried about. “I got drunk. What else is there to explain, Mom?”

“Why?”

Glaring at her, I croak out words that I know she’s not going to be happy with, but it’s the best I can give her right now. “Because I’m a grown ass woman who felt like getting drunk. That’s why.”

“In my house?”

“Where else would you have rather I’d gotten drunk at, Mom? The bar so I could drive myself home? Or how about the Peterson’s field like when I was in high school?”

“So you’re in a mood. Fantastic. Go shower and brush your teeth. You stink.”

As she’s walking out my childhood bedroom, she slams the door so hard a picture falls from the wall, glass shattering in thousands of tiny pieces.

---