Chapter 20
RHIANNON
The drive back to campus feels different than the drive out.
When we left, I was running from something. Now, it’s the opposite. Carter and I are dating.
Carter’s hand rests on my thigh as he drives, his thumb tracing absent circles that ground me.
The mountains disappear behind us, and the landscape shifts back to familiar territory. Highway exits I recognize. Buildings I’ve seen a hundred times. The university water tower appearing on the horizon.
My phone has been buzzing steadily for the last hour. I’ve been ignoring it.
“You should probably check that,” Carter says gently. “Make sure it’s not an emergency.”
I pull out my phone. Seventeen new messages.
Mom
When are you getting back? We need to talk.
Matthew said you should be home today. He’s very eager to see you.
Meg:
GIRL. Where are you?? Crazy EX Matthew came by the house yesterday looking for you. Call me.
Seriously, Rhi. Call me. He’s being weird.
Matthew:
Can’t wait to see you today. We have so much to talk about. I’ll wait at your place.
I’m here. Take your time muffin, I’m not going anywhere.
Heat flashes through me—anger, fear, something tangled and dark. I want to reach through the phone and shatter every expectation he has of me. I want to yell. But I’ve never learned how to have anger without apology, so it sits heavy in my throat instead.
“He’s at my house,” I say, voice tight.
Carter’s hand tightens on my thigh. “Okay.”
“He says he’s waiting for me. That he’s not leaving.”
“Okay,” Carter says again, his voice carefully controlled. “What do you want to do?”
I could ask Carter to drop me off at campus. Deal with this alone. Keep him out of it.
But I’m done running. Done protecting everyone’s feelings except my own.
“I want you to come with me,” I say. “I want—I need you there. Not in the room but…would you wait in the house?”
He glances at me, and something fierce flashes in his eyes. “Of course.”
Twenty minutes later, Carter pulls up in front of my house—a small rental near campus that I share with three other girls. Tara’s car is in the driveway, which means she’s home. And parked on the street, right in front, is Matthew’s black Audi.
Of course, he parked directly in front. Taking up space.
“That’s his car?” Carter asks.
“Yeah.”
Carter studies it for a moment, then puts the truck in park. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going in together. You’re going to say what you need to say. And I’m going to be right there in the kitchen. I won’t interfere unless you need me. Ok?”
The protectiveness in his voice makes my chest warm. “Okay.”
“And, Rhi?” He turns to face me fully. “You don’t owe him an explanation. You don’t owe him closure. You don’t owe him anything. If you want to tell him to leave and that’s it, that’s enough.”
“I need to actually end this, though. For real. No more him thinking we’re ‘working things out.’”
“You can do this.” He leans over and kisses me softly.
My hands shake as I unlock the front door.
The house is exactly as I left it—Meg’s yoga mat in the corner, Emma’s shoes scattered by the door, the faint smell of whoever’s pumpkin spice candle. Familiar. Safe. Or, it should be.
The energy is off the hair on the back of my neck stands up.
Matthew is here.
“Rhi?” Meg appears from the kitchen, relief flooding her face. Then she sees Carter behind me, and her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. Hey.”
“Hey. This is Carter. Carter, this is my roommate Meg.”
“Nice to meet you,” Carter says politely, but his attention is already scanning the room.
“Matthew’s in the living room,” Meg says quietly, giving me a significant look. “He’s been here for two hoourrs. Refused to leave. He kept saying you’d want to see him.”
“Did you let him in?” I ask.
She winces. “Emma did. Before I could stop her. I’m sorry, Rhi. She didn’t know—”
“It’s fine.” It’s not fine, but it’s not Meg’s fault.
“Do you want me to stay?” Meg asks, glancing between me and Carter. “I can—”
“She’s got it,” Carter says. His hand finds the small of my back. “But thank you. Can you show me the kitchen?”
Meg nods. Carter gives me a look that says “I’m here” before Meg shows him the way. She squeezes my shoulder as she passes, and disappears into the other room. I hear her door close firmly—staying close, but giving us space. I take a breath and walk into the living room.
Matthew is sitting on our couch like he owns it, legs spread, arms draped across the back. He’s wearing what I call his “I’m successful” outfit—expensive dark jeans, a fitted button-down, the watch his father gave him for graduation. His hair is perfectly styled, and he’s clean-shaven.
He looks like he’s here for a photoshoot, not a breakup.
When he sees me, his face lights up. “Rhi! Finally. I was starting to worry.”
I stare at him.
“I know things have been... difficult,” he starts.
Deep breath. “Matthew, you need to leave. We’re over, ok?”
“Please, just hear me out.” His voice is gentle, the tone he uses when he wants something. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us. About what went wrong. And I want to fix it. I want to fix us.”
“There is no us to fix. I broke up with you.”
He takes a step closer, his eyes pleading. “Don’t say that. We’ve been together for years, Rhi. That has to mean something. I know we both messed up sometimes, but I’m willing to do the work. Couples therapy, whatever you need.”
“I don’t need therapy with you. I need you to accept that we’re done.”
“But why?” His voice cracks slightly, and I hate that he can still do this—make me feel guilty. “What happened to us? We were good together. We had plans.”
“We couldn’t grow together, Matthew. I just didn’t see it clearly. We hold each other back. I am sorry, but it’s done.”
His jaw tightens for just a moment before he smooths his expression again. “Is this about that guy? The one you brought here?”
Hot blood flashes through me. Was he watching us get out of the car?
“This is about me. About what I want. And I don’t want this anymore.”
“Rhi, come on.” He reaches for my hand, and I pull back. His eyes flash with something darker before he covers it with a smirk. “You’re not thinking clearly. You’re stressed with school, with your research—”
“I’m thinking more clearly than I ever have.”
“We can work through this,” he insists, his voice taking on an edge. “Our families—they’re counting on us. Your parents love me. My parents adore you. You really want to throw all of that away?”
“I don’t appreciate you lying to our families, telling them we’re ‘working through things’ when I’ve told you multiple times we’re done.”
He scoffs, and there it is—the condescension I’ve been waiting for. The real Matthew. “Look, I didn’t want to break up our families over your little hissy fit. You’ll be fine soon. You always are. This is just another one of your moods.”
“No.” My voice is steady, strong. “This isn’t a mood. This isn’t a phase. We’re done, Matthew. Accept it.”
His expression shifts entirely now, the softness gone. “You’re making a mistake.”
“The only mistake I made was not ending this sooner. We’ve been on and off for years. And now we’re off. Permanently.”
“You’re being childish.” His voice is sharper now. “And dramatic. One rough patch and you run away? That’s not how relationships work, Rhiannon.”
Hearing him say my full name like that—like I’m a child being scolded—makes something snap inside me.
“Don’t do that,” I say. “Don’t talk to me like I’m the problem.”
“I’m not saying anything—”
“You are. You’re saying I’m childish. Dramatic. Throwing away something good.” I step forward. “But, Matthew, what we had wasn’t good. Not for me.”
“That’s not true—”
“You decided what I should wear. Who I should hang out with. How I should spend my time.” My voice is shaking now, but not with fear. With anger. “You made me feel guilty for wanting space. For having interests you didn’t approve of. For not being available every second of every day.”
“I was trying to help you—”
“You were trying to control me!” The words explode out.
“And I let you. I let you make me smaller and smaller until I didn’t even recognize myself anymore.
Until I stopped doing things I loved because they made you uncomfortable.
Until I apologized for things that weren’t even my fault because it was easier than arguing with you. ”
Matthew’s face is red now. “That’s not fair, Rhi. I loved you. I was trying to take care of you.”
“Just stop! It’s over! I don’t love you anymore Matthew. And I never will again.”
His face goes through several expressions—shock, anger, hurt. Then it shutters closed.
“You’ve changed,” he says coldly. “And not for the better.”
I open my mouth to apologize—because that’s what I do, what I’ve always done—and then I stop.
I have changed.
“Yeah,” I say. “I have.”
Matthew waits, like he’s expecting the rest. The apology, the backtracking, the self-doubt.
I don’t give it to him.
“What is it? You seriously think you can do better?” His voice rises, anger bleeding through. “You think that guy in there is going to want you long-term? You’re too uptight, too controlling. I put up with it because I loved you, but—”
“Get out.” My voice is ice. “Get out of my house. Now.”
He takes a step toward me, his face flushed with anger, and I hear movement from the kitchen.
“Matthew. Leave. Now. Or I’ll call the police.”
For a long moment, he just stares at me, his chest heaving.
He stares at me like I’m a stranger.
Maybe I am.
Then he grabs his keys from the coffee table with enough force to make them jingle. “Your mother is going to be so upset. You’ll break her heart.”
“I’ll call her myself,” I say. “I’m done with you speaking for me.”
He starts toward the door, then stops, looking back at me one more time. And for a second—just a second—I see the boy I fell for three years ago. The one who made me laugh before he made me cry. The one who was sweet.
But that boy is long gone. If he ever really existed at all.