Page 213 of The Way I Hate Him
“You did,” I say. “When Ryland found out about us, you left.”
“I was confused,” she defends, wiping her tear.
“Didn’t hurt any less.”
“So . . . you’re just going to give up, just like that?” she asks.
“I’m not giving up, Hattie. I’m just . . .” I look away. “Fuck, I’m trying to stay afloat here. I don’t think I could take one more cut to my heart. It’s already bleeding.”
“I’m not going to stomp on your heart, Hayes. I want to heal it. I want to be there for you. I want to show you what true love really is.”
I nod slowly, and then after a second, I say, “And I want to believe you . . . but I can’t.”
I take a step down, that small distance causing her to take a short intake of breath.
“Hayes, don’t do this,” she says, and I take another step down. “Hayes, please.” Her hand reaches out, but I take another step down, the steel armor I’ve resurrected around my heart to keep it beating protecting me from the tears streaming down her face and the reach of her hand.
You need to leave.
You need to get out of here.
And that’s just what I do. Without another word, I turn around and head down the rest of the stairs, just as I hear Hattie say, “Please don’t do this, Hayes.”
But I ignore her and move forward.
I put her behind me.
I hold on to what little sanity I have left.
What little life I have simmering deep within me because the light keeping me running is burning out.
ChapterTwenty-Four
HATTIE
Hattie:I don’t understand why you’re doing this to us. Please, Hayes, please come back so we can work through this.
I stare down at my last text to him, hoping and praying he’ll have a change of heart, but with every minute that goes by without an answer, I fear this might be the end.
But I don’t understand why it has to be the end. How am I associated with whatever’s going on with his mom? He didn’t even tell me what was going on. How can I help him if I don’t know what’s happening?
I pace the small space of my room and consider what I should do.
I could crawl into my bed, pull the covers up to my chin, and cry myself to sleep.
Or I can drive over to Hayes’s house, where he’s isolating himself, and be with him, even though he doesn’t want me. Even though he’s convinced himself that he doesn’t need me.
He’s wrong.
We need each other.
Equally.
Not wanting him to walk out of my life so easily, I slip on a sweatshirt, throw my hair up in a bun, and grab my keys. When I reach my car and pull open the door, a few fat raindrops pelt the hood of my car, the windshield, the trunk.
Great.
I pull out onto Almond Ave, flip my windshield wipers on, and drive to Hayes’s house. The entire time, I’m trying to keep my emotions in check so I don’t get in an accident.
