Chapter Thirty-Nine
Lindsay
Confession#18: I’ve been wearing yoga pants for three days straight.
Confession#19: I’ve consumed an entire tube of raw cookie dough.
Confession #20: I almost broke down and called Ryder after half a bottle of wine that I chased with the aforementioned cookie dough.
When it came to confessions that fell on the sad and pathetic scale, I could go on all day. I’d hoped that Ryder would come over and apologize at the very least, even though I wasn’t delusional enough to think it’d truly change anything.
But he hadn’t come over, hadn’t called or texted, and that made it clear he’d never cared about me the way I’d cared about him.
I’d considered staying in Boston for him, too, and that only made me feel stupider. All those times I’d sworn I wouldn’t be like my mom, living her life for whatever guy was in it at the moment, and then I’d been about to do the exact same thing for Ryder. I’d tried to tell myself that having a job while I was staying for the guy would make all the difference, but I was more like her than I wanted to admit.
Even with that realization bouncing around, every inch of me bled misery, each pump of my aching heart only converting the misery to agony and sending it back through my body.
Confession #21: Broken hearts hurt like hell, and I’m pretty sure mine will never be right again.
I pushed my hand over the spot in my chest where the pain radiated from and a few tears slipped out.
The sound of a key sliding into the door had me quickly wiping the tears from my cheeks.
My roommate Natalie came in, and her expression made it clear she’d noticed I hadn’t moved from where I’d been this morning when she left. “Are you ever going to leave the couch and shower?”
Confession #22: I skipped my Monday classes, and I was considering not bothering with today’s, either.
“What do you care?” I asked.
“Just asking, jeez.” She huffed. As she disappeared into her bedroom, I heard the “bitch” muttered under her breath.
I only wished I were the bitch I used to be—that girl didn’t feel heartbreak. She knew that love made people weak.
Stupid fucking love, and stupid guys who made me think they were different when I knew better.
If only I hadn’t let my walls down. If only I would’ve skipped that first party he invited me to. Or the second one. If only Ryder was a dumb jock so he couldn’t have tutored me—while I was wishing, why couldn’t I have been born a math genius?
Since I could if only for hours, I picked up the remote, intending to change the channel and see if there was some horrible movie or show on TV I could get lost in.
But when I brought up the cable guide, I noticed the time, and then I couldn’t quite bring myself to click on a show. My math class started in thirty-five minutes, and I had the last test before the final. Was I really going to sit here and let some guy undo everything I worked for? My heart gave a painful squeeze that stole my breath, but resolve worked its way into the mix.
Thanks to my former tutor, I’d been doing well on my homework and quizzes. If I earned at least a B on this test and on the final, I should be able to graduate, get the hell out of this town, and renew my mission to put my past life behind me—literally hundreds of miles behind me.
I’d never watch an NHL or AHL game, or Google famous hockey players again, much less talk to one. Nope, I’d never so much as glance at a hockey player ever again.
I tossed the remote onto the coffee table, pushed myself to my feet, and headed for the shower. I had a math class to pass so I could get the hell out of Dodge.
…
After an epic exhale that sent every last ounce of oxygen out of my lungs, I extended my test to the TA.
But when he pinched the papers between his fingers to take it, I couldn’t quite let go. I had so much riding on two little sheets of numbers and symbols.
His impatient gaze met mine and I released it. I made my way out of the building with a steady stream of other students, cut across the grass, and headed toward the Heights offices. The one thing I’d kept up on during my three-day pity fest was my work there, editing articles on my laptop in between sappy movies and foods with more preservatives than nutrition.
Despite my best attempts at distraction, my mind wouldn’t quite move off the test I handed in. No surprise, doing the math was complete torture, not only because it included numbers and symbols that made my head hurt, but also because I couldn’t stop picturing Ryder, and the way he used to encase me with his big body as he helped me with my assignments. The entire time, I heard his voice in my head explaining problems and adding the words of encouragement he’d given me as I stumbled my way through tricky equations.
I’d never be able to think about math without also thinking about Ryder, and I couldn’t decide if that made me hate it more or a little less.
Regardless, I’d made it through the test, and I was confident on about 75 percent. If I’d guessed correctly on a few of the problems I wasn’t as confident about, I had a good shot at a passing grade.
As I walked by the Conte Forum building, I cursed myself for not going a different route—Ryder stood right in front, either on his way in our out, his dark hair and tall, massive body impossible to miss.
The world came crashing to a halt and I forgot how to breathe. Every cell in my body seemed to be reaching for him. My lips moved like they were going to call out to him even if I didn’t give them permission to do so.
Then I noticed the blonde at his side. The adoring look on her face. The way he was turned to her, listening to whatever she was saying.
Who the hell is that? The old Lindsay I’d tried to suppress wanted to charge over, shove the girl away from my man, and tell her to get lost.
But Ryder Maddox wasn’t mine. I wasn’t sure he ever was. My lungs tightened to the uncomfortable point and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying.
That asshole. He accuses me of flirting with another guy and he takes all of five minutes to recover while I spent days moping over the loss of us.
From this distance I couldn’t be sure, but I swore it was the same girl who’d been flirting with him all those weeks ago, when I’d hid from him in the library, and now I wished I’d done a better job.
Looks like you’re super focused on hockey, dude. Glad you’re putting your newly freed-up spare time to good use.
For all I knew, nothing was going on between them, but the fact that I wanted to go tear her hair out anyway was enough to make me feel crappy about myself—this was exactly why I left my old life behind. I didn’t want to feel jealous or petty.
I didn’t want to feel like someone had reached into my chest, squeezed my heart until it was a mangled mess, and then just left it there to try to keep doing its job.
I couldn’t believe that I’d temporarily lost my mind and thought love made me stronger. The last thing I felt now was strong. I wanted to fall to the ground and cry.
But I was done feeling weak and like my life was out of control. Earlier when my roommate called me a bitch, I wished it was that simple, because then I could be cold and unfeeling.
Well, fake it till you make it, right?
I shoved away the raw desperate sensation taking over my chest and let the mask of indifference set in. Part of me hoped I’d have another run-in with Ryder, because then I could show him just how little I cared.
I wasn’t crazy enough to incite it now, though, and fortunately the eagle statue between us gave me fairly good cover.
I charged toward my office, deciding to pour everything I had into my last month and a half of work. I was going to email Andrea Green, too. By the end of the day my goals would be back on track, no more letting my emotions talk me into making stupid decisions.
Everyone better steer clear of me. Because the bitch is back, and I don’t plan on letting her protection leave me ever again.