Page 1 of Resisting the Running Back

CHAPTER 1: Sophie Summers

This Is Because of Your Books

“It just feels like all we do lately is argue. We’ve been growing apart for some time now, and I think it would be for the best for us to end things.” I let out the breath I definitely know I was holding as I finally say the words I’ve been practicing for weeks.

“We donotargue all the time,” Tyler protests.

I think about pointing out the fact that, well, it’sanotherargument, but I stop myself. I just want to get this over with.

“It’s not like this is coming out of nowhere,” I say quietly, calling on those teacher instincts deep inside to remain calm in any situation. “I know it might take some time to figure out how we move on from here, but I’d like to talk about how to split things up and which one of us should move.”

“Move?” he repeats, his volume higher than it needs to be since I’m sitting two feet away from him. He sits back and folds his arms across his chest, and he shakes his head. “No. Nobody’s moving.”

He clearly doesn’t want this, though I think it has more to do with the way he tends to hold onto things than with the actual state of our relationship.

I haven’t been happy for a while, but I stayed anyway because I thought we could fix things. As it turns out, he doesn’t want to put in the work.

I can’t be with someone who doesn’t put in the work.

“This is because of your books, isn’t it?” he asks.

I clench my jaw together at his words, and my back teeth grind as I try my hardest to keep my composure…but he just hit me where he knew it would hurt the most.

He just doesn’t get it, andthatis why I’m ending things.

Maybe if he supported my hobby-turned-side hustle, we wouldn’t be in this exact predicament.

But he’s never supported my writing. Instead, he makes fun of it. He calls it porn. He treats it like it’s trash.

It’s none of those things. It may not win the next Nobel Prize, but I have an email from Rozlyn telling me how my words distracted her from her mother’s long battle with a disease, another from Kathy telling me how my words helped get her through a dark time in her life, and one from William telling me that he and his wife reconnected because of my books.

I know my words matter even if it’s just to those three people, but all Tyler ever does is belittle it. He calls it my hobby. He doesn’t believe in it—or in me.

And that is why I’m done with him.

I make enough between my job teaching high school language arts and my royalties from my books that I can walk out of this apartment and find my own place to rent. It’ll be tight, but it’ll be better than living another minute with someone who tries to use my books against me as I’m breaking up with him.

“Why would it be because of my books?” I ask through that clenched jaw.

“Because you create this perfect man that doesn’t exist, and you expect me to act like that.” He purses his lips and shakes his head as if it’s some sort of crime.

“You know what, Tyler? The truth is that the men I create are visions of what I want in a man. What I want in arelationship. No…not what I want,” I amend, shaking my head. “What Ideserve. And you…you aren’t it.”

He rolls his eyes, which only serves to further prove my statement, and I let out a heavy sigh. Before he can start in on me again, I say, “I’ll stay in the guest room tonight, and I’ll start looking at places tomorrow.”

“Suit yourself.” He grabs the remote and turns on the television, and even though every instinct is telling me to stomp off, I also don’t want him to see that he’s affecting me.

I calmly walk out of the room, head to the bedroom, change into my pajamas, and then settle into the guest room.

I play games on my phone to try to calm my mind, and I’m on track for a new high score when my phone starts to ring.

I glance at the clock. It’s nearly nine o’clock, and it’s my department chair calling—probably to ask me to sub for someone’s zero hour class bright and early tomorrow morning. She knows I’m almost always an automatic yes since I haven’t learned the skill of telling my boss no, so I answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Sophie. It’s Elizabeth Watson.”

“Hey, Elizabeth. Do you need me to cover for someone tomorrow?”

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