Chapter Twelve
Letting Him Go
Emma
College
I sit on the bench in the quad, the air swirling what is left of the leaves around my feet. It’s been weeks since that night at the party, and while I’ve thrown myself into my classes and my internship, the ache in my chest hasn’t faded. Every time I pass Ethan on campus or hear his name, the knot in my stomach tightens.
Sarah’s been relentless in her attempts to cheer me up, dragging me to study sessions and coffee dates, but it’s no use. My thoughts always circle back to him.
I glance up from my notebook, my gaze drifting across the way. A group of guys is tossing a football near the fountain, their laughter carrying on the breeze. For a moment, it reminds me of home—of simpler times when Ethan and I would sit under the bleachers after his games, talking about everything and nothing .
My phone buzzes on the bench beside me, snapping me out of my thoughts. It’s Sarah.
Sarah : Meet me at the coffee shop. I’ve got news!
I text back quickly.
Me : On my way
I grab my bag and head toward the café at the edge of campus.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee hits me as I push open the door, and I spot Sarah at a corner table, her laptop and a stack of papers spread out in front of her. She waves me over, a wide grin on her face.
“You’re not going to believe this,” she says, practically bouncing in her seat.
“What’s up?” I ask, sliding into the chair across from her.
She pushes a flyer toward me. “Professor Klein recommended me for this publishing internship downtown. I can’t tell you how huge this is, Emma. Like, life-changing huge.”
I smile, genuinely happy for her. “Sarah, that’s amazing! You totally deserve it.”
She beams, taking a sip of her latte. “Thanks. And what about you? How’s the internship going? ”
I shrug, fiddling with the edge of my notebook. “It’s good. Busy, but good.”
“Good’s not the word I’d use to describe the last few weeks,” a familiar voice interrupts, low and rough, cutting through the noise of the coffee shop.
I look up, and there he is standing in front of me and my heart skips a beat.
Ethan.
He’s at the edge of our table, his hands shoved into his pockets, looking both hesitant and determined.
“Hey,” I say softly, my chest tightening, unsure why he’s even here after ignoring me for so long.
“Hey,” he replies, glancing at Sarah before focusing on me. “Uh, can we talk?”
Sarah looks between us, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I’ll, uh…grab another coffee,” she says, standing and giving me a pointed look that says, Talk to him .
I nod, my throat dry, and watch as she walks away, leaving Ethan and me alone at the table. He doesn’t sit right away, just stands there, fidgeting with the strap of his bag.
“Do you mind if I…” he gestures to the chair across from me, his voice softer than I expected .
“Sure,” I say, my voice barely audible. My stomach knots as he slides into the seat—it’s weird how him being here feels both comforting and overwhelming at the same time.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The tension between us is thick, and I don’t know how to break it. He’s the one who wanted to talk, but now that he’s here, he seems just as lost as I feel.
“I—” we both start at the same time, then stop, a nervous laugh escaping me.
“Go ahead,” I say, folding my hands in my lap to keep them from trembling.
He rubs the back of his neck, something he does when he’s nervous, his gaze dropping to the table. “I, uh… I’ve been a dick,” he says, his voice low but steady. “And I owe you an apology.”
The words catch me off guard, and I blink at him, unsure of how to respond. He looks up, his eyes meeting mine, and the sincerity in them makes my chest ache.
“I’ve been avoiding you, ignoring you…hurting you. And it wasn’t fair,” he continues, his voice tightening. “You didn’t deserve that, Emma.”
Tears sting the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, refusing to let them fall. “Then why, Ethan?” I whisper. “Why didn’t you let me explain? Why did you just push me away without any explanation from me? ”
He sighs, leaning back in his chair, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “Because I thought you… I thought you regretted what happened between us. That night.”
My heart twists, and I shake my head, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “I didn’t. I don’t. I never regretted being with you, Ethan. Not for a second.”
His shoulders sag with relief, but his expression remains pained. “I overheard you talking to Sarah…about regret. I didn’t stick around to hear the whole thing, and I guess I just… I jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
I laugh softly, though there’s no humor in it. “You think? God, Ethan, if you’d just stayed—if you would have let me explain—you’d know I was talking about my internship. I was overwhelmed, doubting myself, and yes I did say something about regret. But it wasn’t about you.”
He scrubs a hand over his face, looking utterly defeated. “I know that now. And I hate that I let it get this far—that I hurt you because I couldn’t get out of my own fucking head.”
I want to be angry, to lash out at him for everything he’s put me through these past few weeks. But looking at him now, so raw and open, I can’t bring myself to do it.
“You really hurt me, Ethan,” I admit, my voice trembling. “I didn’t understand why you were pulling away, why you were acting like I didn’t exist. And then seeing you at those parties…” I trail off, shaking my head. “It felt like you were trying to erase me.”
He winces, guilt flashing across his face. “I was. I thought it would make things easier if I just… let you go. But it didn’t. It only made everything worse.”
I swallow hard, my chest tight. “So what now?”
He looks at me, his eyes searching mine. “I don’t know. I just… I want us to be okay again, Em. I miss you.”
The words hit me hard, knocking the breath from my lungs, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. I want to believe him, to trust that we can go back to what we had. But the fear of being hurt again holds me back.
“I miss you too,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s not that simple, Ethan. We can’t just pretend like none of this happened. I can’t pretend .”
“I know…,” he says quickly. “I know, it’s going to take time. But I’m willing to put in the work, if you’ll let me.”
I study him for a long moment, searching for any sign that he’s not being sincere. But all I see is the boy I’ve known for the last several years—the boy who’s always been my anchor, even when he’s the one pulling me under. My best friend.
“Okay,” I say finally, the word heavy with uncertainty. “But you have to mean it, Ethan. No more running away, no more shutting me out. If we’re going to fix this, we have to talk to each other and communicate. We have to do this together.”
His lips curve into a small, tentative smile, and he nods. “Together.”
I shift uncomfortably, trying to find the right words. Everything about this moment feels wrong, as if we’re two strangers forcing a conversation neither of us wants to have. Ethan’s eyes move past me, his focus elsewhere, searching for something beyond this awkward silence. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to be here.
“Things good with football?” I ask, wincing slightly at how flat my voice sounds.
“Yeah. Good,” he replies, though his tone is anything but reassuring. “I mean… actually, scouts have been coming around a lot more. Watching us at practices, at games…” His voice trails off, and he rubs the back of his neck, looking almost…nervous?
My stomach twists, and I realize I’m holding my breath. “Oh. That’s… wow. That’s huge.”
“Maybe.” He shrugs, his eyes flicking away again. “Nothing’s set in stone. But they’re interested, I guess.” There’s a quiet pride in his tone, but it’s layered with something I can’t fully pin down.
I force myself to smile, even though my mind is racing. This is what he’s always wanted—what he’s worked for, dreamed about. And he deserves it, he really does. But the thought of him leaving, of him living that life, far away from everything we’ve known, sends a jolt of fear through me.
“I mean… that’s amazing, Ethan. Really,” I manage, keeping my voice steady. “They’d be lucky to have you.”
He gives a small, tight smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. For a moment, I wonder if he feels it too—that sense of something slipping away before we even understand what it is.
The air feels heavier, weighed down by words neither of us wants to say. I glance down, fidgeting with the strap of my bag, searching for a way to bring us back to normal. But I’m not sure normal is even an option anymore.
I swallow, forcing myself to hold his gaze even though every instinct tells me to look away, to pretend that this is just another casual conversation between friends. But it isn’t. There’s something in the way he’s talking about the scouts, the potential future that’s right there within his reach. He could be gone in a year, maybe sooner, and everything between us would just… stop. Or maybe it already has .
“I mean, I don’t know if it’ll actually lead to anything,” he adds, breaking the silence. Though his words are humble, a spark of excitement is simmering beneath the surface. As if he’s finally allowing himself to believe in this. Is there hope that this might actually happen?
“Ethan,” I say, my voice soft but insistent. “It’s incredible. You’ve been working for this… since forever. You’re… you’re gonna do amazing things.” My heart hammers in my chest as I say it, the weight of it pressing down on me.
His lips tug into a faint smile, something almost vulnerable. “Thanks, Em.” He pauses, glancing around like he’s debating something before finally looking back at me. “You know… we’ve got a game this Friday. I can leave a ticket for you at the booth if you want to come. I mean, no pressure, but…”
He pauses for a moment, “Coach says a few scouts have been sniffing around, even though it’s early for juniors like me. They’re talking about fast-tracking some of us if we keep performing well.”
I blink, taken off guard by the offer. We’ve both been so busy, so wrapped up in our separate worlds, that the thought of watching him play—seeing him in his element—feels oddly intimate, almost nostalgic. Like going back to a simpler time, before everything got so… tangled.
“Yeah,” I say, nodding, unable to hide the smile tugging at my lips. “I’d love to come. Really. ”
“Cool.” His smile mirrors mine, and for a split second, we’re back in high school, sneaking glances at each other from across the stands. But then his expression shifts, his gaze growing distant, and the moment slips through my fingers before I can grasp it.
The reality of it sinks in—this might be one of the last games I’ll see him play here, on this field, before everything changes. Before he leaves, chasing a life I’m not sure has room for me in it.
“Just, uh, tell them your name at the booth,” he adds, clearing his throat like he’s brushing off some of the weight between us. “They’ll have a ticket waiting for you.”
I nod, trying to ignore the strange ache in my chest. “I’ll be there. Promise.”
There’s a moment of silence, and it’s heavy, filled with everything we’re not saying. I want to ask him—about his plans, about what he wants, about us—but the words get stuck in my throat, too heavy to say out loud right now.
Instead, I offer a smile, trying to make it feel easy, natural. “Guess I better bring my lucky charm then. Don’t want you choking with scouts watching,” I tease, forcing a lightness I don’t feel.
He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Yeah, I wouldn't want that.” But there’s a hint of something else in his eyes, a vulnerability that tugs at my heart .
As we part ways, a strange sense of finality settles over me. I tell myself I’m being dramatic, that it’s just a game, just a ticket. But deep down, I know it’s more than that. It’s a glimpse of the future—the one where he’s moving forward, and I’m left here, watching from the sidelines.
And I wonder if I’ll ever be able to catch up.
……………………………………………………………
It’s game night and I sit in the bleachers, surrounded by the buzz of the crowd. The field looks enormous under the floodlights, every blade of grass illuminated as if this were more than just a college game. Maybe it is—there’s a hum of something bigger in the air. I can’t stop scanning the sidelines, looking for him, even though I know exactly where he’ll be.
And then I spot him. Ethan.
He’s locked in, focused, his movements fluid as he warms up. The jersey clings to him, his name and number bold on the back, and I can’t help but feel a pang of pride that I shouldn’t let myself feel. Because this version of Ethan isn’t just my best friend—he’s someone bigger, someone destined for something far beyond me.
The game kicks off, and I cheer when I’m supposed to, clap when everyone else does, but I feel like an outsider. The crowd erupts as Ethan makes a big play, and I catch a glimpse of him glancing into the stands. For a second, I think he might be looking for me, but then he’s swept up in the momentum of the game, his teammates pounding his back and shouting in celebration.
When the final whistle blows, the energy in the stadium is electric. I make my way toward the edge of the field, weaving through fans and parents, my heart thudding in my chest. But as I near the players’ tunnel, I see him—surrounded by coaches, teammates, and men in suits who can only be scouts.
He’s laughing, his smile wide and easy, but there’s something about him that feels… out of reach. Like he’s already stepping into a world I don’t belong to. I hang back, clutching the railing, and watch as he shakes hands, nodding at whatever they’re saying.
I think about waving, about calling his name, but the words stick in my throat. He’s so caught up in their conversation that I might as well not even be here. And maybe that’s for the best.
……………………………………………………………
A few days after the game, I get a text from him inviting me to get coffee. I can’t help but think this is a good sign. He’s making an effort. The bell above the coffee shop door jingles as I walk in, and I spot him immediately. Ethan’s sitting in a corner booth, his long legs stretched out under the table, his hands wrapped around a mug. He looks tired but happy, like he’s been carrying a secret too big to hold .
“Hey,” he says, his face lighting up when he sees me.
“Hey,” I reply, sliding into the seat across from him. My stomach twists, and I can’t shake the feeling that whatever he’s about to say is going to change everything.
He doesn’t waste any time. “So, I’ve got news,” he starts, leaning forward. “I got an offer from an NFL team.”
My heart sinks, even as I force a smile. “That’s amazing, Ethan. Who’s it from?”
“The Portland Sentinels,” he says, his excitement spilling over. “They want me. Like, really want me. I signed the deal yesterday.”
Portland. That’s across the country.
“That’s… huge,” I manage to say, my voice cracking.
He nods, his smile fading slightly as he looks at me. “I wanted to tell you first. I mean, you’ve always been there, Em. Through everything.”
I bite my lip, my chest tightening as the finality of it hits me. “So, when do you leave?”
“In a couple of weeks,” he says, his tone softer now. “Training starts right after the semester ends.”
I nod, my throat burning as I struggle to keep it together. I’ve always known he was meant for something bigger, something I could never keep up with. But hearing it out loud makes it real in a way I wasn’t ready for.
“I’m happy for you,” I say, forcing the words out. “Really. This is everything you’ve worked for.”
He reaches across the table, his hand brushing mine. “You mean that?”
“Of course,” I whisper, even though my heart is shattering.
That night, I sit alone in my room, staring at the ceiling, replaying the conversation over and over in my head. I always knew this day would come. I just didn’t think it would feel so…final.
Ethan is leaving, moving on to a life that doesn’t have room for late-night talks and shared walks home. He’s going to Portland, to a future so bright I can barely look at it. And I’ll still be here, trying to figure out who I am without him.
Tears slide down my cheeks, but I don’t wipe them away. This isn’t something I can fight or fix. It’s just… life. And I have to accept that we’re over—whatever we were, whatever we could have been, it’s done.
For the first time, I let myself feel the weight of that truth, the ache of losing not just my best friend but the future I always thought we’d have. And somehow, in the middle of it all, I realize I have to let him go.
Because he’s already gone.