Page 67 of The Love Playbook

The bitch of it all is that he was right when he said I had more feelings for him than I was admitting to. I knew it at the time. I just didn’t see the point of admitting it to him. It would only make things harder.

On the other hand, he’s at least honored my request to respect my boundary. He hasn’t contacted me. The couple of times I’ve seen him around campus, he’s nodded politely and gone the other way.

Of course, that’s almost harder.

I’d foolishly hoped that we could just go back to how things used to be. That we could be friends who chatted when we saw each other, that I could go back to attending game nights at his house with my friends, that it would be like nothing had ever happened between us.

At least on the outside.

But Jackson is either unable or unwilling to pretend away his feelings. And as much as I wish mine would just dissolve like they normally do, these bitches are lingering despite my best efforts to send them on their way.

So I find myself once again in my room finishing up a releasing ceremony and looking around wondering if I need to return it to its disorganized state in order to fully let Jackson go. Because every time I enter this room, every time I pull a necklace off the hook he screwed into the wall, every time I select a bottle of oils from my neatly organized bin, I think of him.

But I also really like how tidy and clean everything is. How easy it is to find what I’m looking for. How everything is still at my fingertips but doesn’t look like a metaphysical shop exploded in here.

A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. With a deep breath, I stand and open the door.

Ellie stands on the other side dressed in leggings and an oversized T-shirt, her hair in a high ponytail, and her face serious as she surveys me.

“Hey, Ellie. Do you need something?”

Her lips press together, and she nods. “Yes. I need to talk to you.”

Based on her determined expression, I have a feeling I’m the subject of discussion here. She really fools people with her cute girl-next-door persona and relatively easygoing personality. But I’m not fooled. Not anymore. She’s tenacious when she decides to be. And I know that ponytail is her getting-down-to-business style. It’s possible she was hard at work on a project, of course, but I haven’t heard her talking about any major deadlines coming up, so I thinkI’mthe project here. And with her arms crossed and her hip cocked, she definitely has business to discuss.

I really don’t want to get into this with her, but I know Ellie well enough to realize that putting her off will only delay the inevitable. And hell. Maybe she’ll have some helpful insights. Maybe the universe is sending her here right after finishing my releasing spell to help me.

Blowing out a breath, I step back and gesture her inside.

She looks around as she comes in, her hands falling to the sides as she turns in a circle in the middle of my room. “Wow. This is amazing, Autumn. This is what you and Jackson did when he was here last?”

“Yeah.” My voice is unpleasantly hoarse, the memory of Jackson being here too fresh, too raw to be able to recall it without an emotional response.

Ellie’s dark eyes zero in on me, sharp and incisive. “Yeah. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I figured. You have sage words of wisdom to help me get over Jackson?”

She crosses her arms again, examining me closely. “That’s what you want? To get over him?”

Shrugging, I cross my arms as well, forcing myself to hold her gaze and not deflect by focusing on something else in the room. Normally I’d fiddle with something, but since Jackson helped me organize everything, it’s all put away and in its place already.

“Yeah, I didn’t really think so.”

That gets a bark of laughter out of me. “That’s what you got? That I don’t actually want to get over him?”

She throws her hands up. “You don’t! You like him, Autumn. A lot. And it’s obvious to everyone.” When I scoff, she talks over me. “Except, apparently, you.”

“Look, Ellie. I know you’re happy and in love with Simon.” This time I talk over her scoff. “But that doesn’t mean everyone is looking for that, okay?”

One finger in the air, she narrows her eyes at me. “I’d hardly say that my long-distance relationship is happy or easy or whatever else you’ve decided.”

“I never said it was easy. I said it was what you want. You don’thaveto be in a long-distance relationship. You could end it. Find someone else. You’re pretty. Your brother’s not here to cockblock you anymore. You could find another guy in a heartbeat.”

She carefully folds her finger back into her fist and tucks her arms across her chest again, a thoughtful look on her face. “Hmm. Yeah. I suppose you’re right.” Why does her agreement make something clench in my throat? “So could you, actually. And you have loads of times before.”

I stare at her, waiting for her to continue, even though she seems to be expecting some kind of response from me.

When I don’t give her one, she finally continues. “What’s different this time?”

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