Page 229 of The Way I Hate Him
“Yeah, I don’t think I could handle that,” I say, my voice softer. “Between losing Hayes and receiving Cassidy’s package, I honestly don’t think I can take much more.”
“Well, let me ask you this. If he came and apologized, if he asked for you back . . .” Ryland pauses. “Would you take him back?”
“Would you?” Maggie asks, whipping her head around to look at me.
My heart immediately screams yes because I love him. I miss him. I want to hold him and help him through his pain.
But my head . . . that’s a different story. My head is protecting my heart, telling me I shouldn’t give him a second chance because he hurt me so bad the first time.
“I don’t know,” I say, biting on the corner of my lip. “I really don’t know.”
* * *
HAYES
Ruben:It’s been taken care of.
Hayes:Everything?
Ruben:Everything. Including the restraining order.
I stare up at the ceiling where I’ve been looking for what feels like the past hour.
Everything is done.
I don’t need to worry about my mom coming back, about Matt extorting me . . . yet I feel nothing.
I don’t feel relief.
I don’t feel satisfaction.
I just feel . . . empty.
But that’s what happens, right? Pushing the one good thing out of your life tends to make you feel absolutely nothing. You just turn numb.
That’s where I’m at.
Numb.
Not a fucking thought, emotion, or pinch of life passing through me.
I set my phone down on the coffee table and consider reaching for my guitar, but there’s no use. I know I’ll just strum the same chords over and over again, the chords that remind me of Hattie, of the song I wrote about her.
And it’s not like I’m on a deadline anymore.
Not like I need to come up with something new to appease others.
I can really do what’s best for me . . .
So how come I’m not doing that?
How come I’m not figuring out a way to make me feel again?
Because the one thing, the one person that made me feel, I broke her.
She doesn’t want me back. I know that to be the truth.
The sound of a car pulling into the driveway attracts my attention. I lift on the couch just in time to see Ryland walk up to the house, his head bent down, a purposeful stride to his every step.
