Natalie
“You just decided to break up with him?” Zara asks as she throws herself onto the desk chair in my bedroom and stares at me in an unnerving fashion that would break a lesser woman. “Just like that?” She snaps her fingers to add emphasis to her words. Not that she has to. I get it. She’s annoyed with me. My friend doesn’t understand why I would do something so extreme.
I fidget nervously with the hem of my shirt and glance away, avoiding eye contact at all costs. Zara has known me since the fourth grade. I’m afraid if she searches long enough—hard enough—she’ll figure out that I’m lying. I need to shut down this line of questioning before it gets out of hand. “Yep.”
Brows furrowing, she shakes her head. “Why would you do that?”
Zara wants answers, and I have the feeling she won’t rest until she unearths them. She’s annoyingly tenacious like that.
I force my gaze back to Zara’s confused one and feed her the same line I fed Brody last night. “Because it seems better this way. He’s leaving for Milwaukee after graduation. He’ll have a lot going on with acclimating to the NHL and travelling during the season. And let’s face it, long-distance relationships rarely work out in the end. There doesn’t seem much point to getting attached or prolonging the inevitable.”
Most people would agree with everything I’ve just said. Those are legitimate roadblocks to any budding relationship. But already I can tell that Zara isn’t buying it.
That’s reconfirmed when she says, “I’m calling bullshit.”
“What?” I sit up a little straighter on the bed and clasp my fingers in my lap to still them.
“You heard me, I’m calling bullshit. We’ve been friends for twelve years, and I know when you’re trying to BS me. You have a tell.” She tilts her head. “Did you know that? Anytime you try avoiding a situation, you glance away and start fidgeting.” She twirls her finger in my direction. “And that’s exactly what you’re doing now.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “So, let’s just cut the crap. I want to know what’s really going on.”
I bite my lip and shake my head. “I can’t tell you,” I whisper. Talking about it won’t change anything. I wish it could.
Rising from the chair, Zara closes the distance between us and sits down on the bed next to me. Her voice softens. “Why?”
I shake my head and look down at my fingers, which are tangled together. I almost snort. She’s right about the tell. I glance at her as a fresh wave of resolve washes over me. I’m trying to do what’s right for Brody. In the end, that’s all that matters. “There’s no point in rehashing it, Zar. This is the way it has to be.”
“Explain to me why it has to be this way, because I don’t understand.” When I remain silent, she continues. “I could tell at your birthday party that you were falling for him. What happened between then and now?”
Brody planning my birthday dinner is what finally pushed me over the edge. That night changed everything for me. For us.
I wish she would just drop the subject and let it go, but I know that’s not going to happen. Blowing out a breath, I say, “A couple of days ago, Brody’s dad stopped by the apartment to have a little chat.”
Her eyes bug out. “Well, I certainly didn’t see that one coming.”
I give a mirthless chuckle as sadness swamps me. I’m all but drowning in it. “Yeah, me neither.”
“I take it that Brody doesn’t know about it?”
“No, and I can’t tell him either. It would only cause problems between them, and I don’t want to do that.”
“What did he say?”
Even though I’m trying to keep my fingers still, I can’t. They continue twisting together in my lap. “He told me that Brody needed to focus on finishing school and his NHL career. He said I’m a distraction Brody can’t afford right now.” I peek over at Zara. Her jaw is hanging open. “He brought up the fights with Reed and getting thrown out of practice.”
Anger kindles in her eyes as she snaps her mouth closed. “And naturally, this is your fault?”
I shrug and force out a breath before admitting, “Yeah, I think it probably is. At least some of it.” I remember the library and the sexy study breaks we took or when he wanted to skip practice so he could make love to me instead. Without me, none of those situations would have occurred.
Her brows snap together in irritation. “Did you really just take the blame for that?” Instead of her ire being directed at Brody’s father, it’s aimed at me. “Give me a break, Nat. Brody is a big boy, capable of making his own decisions. If he chooses to do something—be it good or bad—that’s on him. Not you.” Disgust fills her voice. “His father had no right to put all that on you.”
Part of me agrees with what she said. Brody is a twenty-three-year-old man capable of making his own decisions and accepting the consequences of them. But if me being in his life leads to bad choices, isn’t it in his best interests if I back off?
“Brody has lost enough, Zara.” I can’t get into the specifics with her because they aren’t mine to share. I add, “There’s a lot riding on this season. I don’t want to see him mess anything up with Milwaukee.”
Putting two and two together, her voice fills with contempt. “His dad told you to dump him, didn’t he?” It’s not really a question. We both know that’s where the conversation was inevitably leading. “He made you feel like all this was your fault and then told you to take a hike.” Zara looks ready to blow a gasket.
“Yeah,” I admit reluctantly. Even though talking with Zara doesn’t change the situation, it feels good to let it out.
Jumping off the bed, Zara paces the length of the room. She looks as upset about everything as I am. “What a jerk! I can’t believe he asked you to do that.” Her eyes harden as she whips around to face me. “Brody has no idea what happened between the two of you. He thinks you don’t care about him.”
I bury my face in my hands as I remember the looks of pain and confusion that flashed across his face when I told him that we were moving too fast and that I wasn’t looking for anything serious. Letting him go was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. “Please, Zar. Don’t make me feel any worse about this than I already do.”
“Well, it’s true,” she accuses. “You broke the poor guy’s heart.” She pauses for a beat. “Brody deserves to know the truth. About everything.”
“That’s not fair,” I whisper brokenly. “Can’t you see that I’m only trying to do what’s best for him?”
“Did you ever think,” she says carefully, “that maybe you’re what’s best for him?”
I stare silently as her words filter through my brain.