Page 135 of Bleacher Report
"What?"
"Don’t make life decisions out of guilt. And don’t use me as an excuse."
I say nothing.
She turns fully toward me. "Is this about Peyton?"
I don’t answer.
"Hunter."
"She left, Ma. Said I should be here. That this was the best move for me. That we got what we wanted from the arrangement, and we should be done."
My mother lets out a disbelieving scoff. "That girl is in love with you."
"She didn’t act like it."
"Bullshit. I don’t believe that for a minute. Before you make a huge decision like this, you need to go home and talk to her first."
“There’s nothing to talk about. It was fake for her the entire time. It’s fine—I’ll move on. And being here to make sure you go through treatment is more important.”
I can’t even look at her.
"Don’t take that damn trade," she says firmly.
"Why not? It would fix everything."
"No, it wouldn’t. It would just be easier. You were happy in Seattle. Don’t throw that away because you’re scared."
I want to argue. I want to tell her it’s more complicated than that. But maybe it isn’t.
We ride the rest of the way in silence.
When we get home, I settle her on the couch with a heating pad and a movie. She dozes off within minutes, and I finally let myself breathe.
And that’s when my phone rings again.
Aleksi.
"What’s up, Mäk?"
"You tell me. I just ran into Peyton. She was dropping your stuff off at your apartment. Cammy had the spare key."
My stomach drops. I told her to do whatever she wanted with my things, but I didn’t think she’d find a way not to see me again. Subconsciously, maybe I thought I’d have an excuse to see her one last time before I moved back to New Jersey.
"She left it all inside. Boxed up."
I sit down hard on the armrest of the chair across from the couch.
“I thought you two were dating now.”
“It didn’t work out.”
She really meant it.
She’s really gone.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
