34
Sasha
Conor was cleared to fly by his doctors so yesterday he travelled to Canada with the team for the weekend. I think the change of scenery will be good for him so he’s not cooped up at home all day every day, driving himself mad.
Plus, it gives me a chance to really think all of this through. I’ve spent every day this week looking after him, probably more than I have to. I make sure he takes his meds, help him around the apartment, and pretend that everything between us is normal. But I can’t keep pretending.
The second he gets home, I’m ending this. And not because I don’t want him. God, that’s the problem. I want him too much.
I just need him to understand that I need to be on my own for a while.
I need to figure out my life before I complicate that with a new relationship.
I can’t give him all of me when I don’t even know what that is.
I just hope he believes me when I tell him I don’t want him out of my life. I just need space.
I’m almost thirty years old and I have never truly been alone.
I went from my parents home, to having a roommate in college, to moving in with Max.
I got my own place last year and still, I stayed with Olivia for months.
Not long after that, Conor crashed into my life, and somewhere along the way, his apartment started feeling more like home than mine ever did.
I don’t know how to exist on my own. And until I learn how to, I don’t think I can truly be with anyone else. I don’t know if that actually makes any sense, but it does to me and I hope it does to him.
I’m also working a dead end job with no end in sight.
Every spare second I have goes into writing now.
I don’t even go to the gym or shopping as much as I used to.
I say no to nights out and dinners with my friends because all I can think about is finishing this book.
If I want this dream badly enough, and I do, then I need to work my ass off and give it everything I’ve got.
I can’t do that when half of me is always somewhere else.
I’ve thought about making things work with Conor. I’ve imagined it more times than I’d ever admit. But the truth is, I still don’t fully trust him. I want to, I really do, but those doubts are constantly swirling around in the back of my mind.
And it’s not just Conor. I mean, he’s given me no reason not to trust him. He’s been patient and kind and understanding. But this isn’t just about him. It’s about what Max left behind.
I never gave myself time to heal before I threw myself into whatever this is with Conor. I buried the hurt instead of dealing with it, choosing my ego over my heart, and now it’s all catching up to me.
I need time to. Time to breathe. Time to trust again. Time to become someone who isn’t constantly waiting for the next person she loves to leave.
It isn’t fair to keep Conor trapped in something when I don’t even know if I’m capable of giving him everything he deserves. Holding onto him now will only hurt us both later.
Yesterday, I finally called my mom. The second I heard her voice float through the phone, I broke. I cried before I could even say hello. I hadn’t realized just how much I missed her until then.
I apologized for disappearing, for shutting both her and dad out for so long. But she apologized first. She told me she failed Liam and that she was sorry that she didn’t realize it until I told her.
They’re trying now though. Really trying.
They’ve spoken to specialists. They’ve started learning what he actually needs instead of trying to force him into what they thought he should be. I don’t think they’ve realized yet that all Liam has always wanted is simply his parents, but at least they’re finally making an effort.
They’ve even enrolled him in a six week hockey program.
I smiled when I heard that. Maybe it’ll give him what hockey gives Conor.
A space where the world quietens down for a while.
Somewhere he can make friends. Somewhere he feels like he belongs.
I’m sure he’ll be telling everyone that he got to meet the Conor Matthews and the whole Florida Flames team, Josh not included.
I just hope it doesn’t break his heart too much when he finds out that Conor and I are no longer together. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me.
It’s late afternoon and I’ve just gotten in the flow of writing when there’s a pounding on my door.
I glance up, frowning. Conor just lets himself in and he’s still in Canada.
Olivia has a ridiculous secret knock so I know it’s her.
Whoever’s outside sounds like they’re trying to knock the door off its hinges.
“I’m coming!” I yell. Jesus. Impatient much?
The second I swing the door open, a broad shoulder slams into me, forcing me backwards. The smell hits me before I even look up. The cheap cologne. The one I used to bury my face in. Now it makes my stomach turn.
“How do you know where I live?” I close the door gently behind me, walking over and standing at the end of the couch where Max seems to have made himself at home.
“I asked Rose for your new address months ago. I thought I should have it just in case.” Just in case what?
“What are you doing here, Max?”
“I ended things with Jessica.” He’s out of breath. Probably because he was practically ramming his body against my door just to get inside.
“That doesn't answer my question. Why are you here?”
He runs both hands over his face before looking up at me.
“I miss you, Sash.” Before I can move, he’s on his feet, taking both of my hands in his.
His grip is so tight that I can’t pull away even if I tried.
“We were so good together and I didn’t realize that until it was too late.
” He tugs my hands, trying to pull me towards him, but I don’t move an inch.
“Why now?” I ask him, finally finding my voice after a long moment of silence. “It’s been almost a year. Why are you only figuring this out now?” I try to keep the bitterness out of my tone but fail. I don’t want him to know how much this all still affects me. I hate how much it still affects me.
Max’s eyes fall to the floor. “Because I saw you with him.” Hearing him refer to Conor with such distaste does something to my insides.
It’s like he’s poured acid down my throat, the liquid burning my stomach.
“Hearing about you being with him and seeing you with him are two completely different things. The sight made me feel sick to my stomach, Sasha.”
A short, bitter laugh escapes me. “Really?”
“You have no idea what that felt like.”
I stare at him for a moment, my mouth hanging open.
“Are you fucking delusional. I have no idea what that feels like?” He opens his mouth to speak again but I don't let him. “What about me, Max? What about how I felt?” The words explode before I can stop them. “I knew you cheated on me. I stayed with you regardless of that fact. I thought we could overcome it but I couldn’t look at you without wanting to pound your face against the wall. I felt dirty when you got into bed beside me at night.”
He’s crying now, but I don’t care. “When you kissed me, I wondered if you wished I was her. When you told me you loved me,” My voice cracks and I have to force the rest of the words out, “I thought you still meant it. I thought I was still someone worth having your love. But none of it was true. All the kisses, all the sweet words and kind acts, it was all fake.” Ironic, huh?
“I hated you so fucking much for what you did to me. And you know what made it worse?” He stays silent, looking more guilty now than he ever has before. “What was worse, was that at the end of it all, I still loved you.”
There are tears streaming down my cheeks. Not tears of sadness but of anger. I am so fucking angry right now. Only one thing could calm me down right now but he’s not here. He’s halfway across the country.
“You need to leave, Max.”
“Sasha, please.”
“No.”
“Just give me one more chance.”
“No.”
“Please.” He pleads with me, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around me. Every muscle in my body locks up tight before I wrench myself free.
“I don’t want to be with you.” The words come easier than I thought they would. “I don’t love you anymore, Max. And being with Conor has made me realize that I never really did.”
Something inside him breaks. I can see it the moment it happens. He lets out a defeated sigh before turning and heading for the door. Hand on the handle, he faces me one last time. “He’ll hurt you, Sash. Worse than I ever did.”
The second the door clicks shut, my legs give out. I slide down the wall, put my head in my hands and cry. Not because I miss him. Not because I feel guilty or want him back.
I cry because for the first time in almost a year, I finally said everything I’d been carrying around inside me. Every ounce of anger. Every ounce of hurt. Every question that never got answered. It’s over. He’s finally just someone I used to know.
The only thing that lingers is his final words. He’ll hurt you. I hate that they stay with me. I hate that they leave a sour taste in my mouth. I hate that some small, frightened part of me wonders if he’s right.
Maybe that’s all the confirmation I need.
Conor and I are ending this anyway. I guess I’ll never have to find out.