Page 151 of With the Assist

This Wesley turns it all off.

“Yeah. We do.”

“That doesn’t mean it was easy.” Her eyes shift from the cars passing by to the sidewalk, never glancing my way.

“Look at me, Wes.” My voice cracks, and I swallow. “Please just fucking look at me while you break my heart.”

Her eyes flash to mine, glistening with unshed tears.

“You didn’t choose me.” The words tumble out of me, fueled by alcohol and weeks of swallowing everything down. “You chose soccer. You chose the thing you always choose. And you know what? That’s fine.” I run my hand through my hair. “I get it. But don’t stand there and act like I’m the asshole for being hurt.”

“I couldn’t risk everything I’ve worked for.”

“You weren’t the only one risking something.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it.

I barrel on before she can stop me.

“You don’t get to tell me it was real, make me collateral damage when you end it anyway, and then be mad that someone else touches me. You made it clear I’m not what you want.”

“God, Nathan. I do want you. Every fucking part of me wants you. Every part of me wishes things were different. But they’re not.” A tear falls down her cheek. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“That just makes it worse.” All the fight drains out of my voice. “Because you didn’t want me enough.” I blow out my breath, letting it cloud in the air. “We weren’t worth taking a chance on. You didn’t even bother to try. And you were never going to.”

Silence drops between us, thick and brutal.

Her eyes shine, but her spine stays straight. The same way it was the morning she drove away.

I hate it.

I hate that I still love her, and she’s standing here destroying me all over again.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Her voice is barely audible over the traffic driving by.

“Kinda like how I didn’t mean to fall in love with you. Looks like we both fucked up.”

Her eyes widen, and I realize what I’ve said only after the words leave my lips. It’s an embarrassing admission, but I can’t bring myself to care. It’s been eating me alive for far too long.

“Good luck,” I say, jaw tightening as the words scrape on the way out. “With everything.”

I turn before she can answer or say something that might make me stay. I flag down the first rideshare I can find without looking back.

Through the window, I catch one last glimpse of her standing there alone on the sidewalk, arms wrapped around herself like she’s holding something together.

Then the city swallows her whole.

And I let it.

41

Wesley

When I was sixteen, I tried to have it all.

A few girls from school had this standing tradition of going to the diner down the street between the final bell and practice. It was never anything big or complicated, just fries and milkshakes, piling into a booth and talking about whatever crossed their minds. They asked me every time.

And every time, I said no.