“Talking to your dad about your decision not to go to college.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Excuse me? You have no right coming into my home to discuss a decision that is mine.”
“Just admit there’s someone else,” he says in a bitter tone.
On the countertop, his hand is clenched into a fist as jealousy consumes him. I’m so over his insecurity and immaturity. Why does it always have to involve another fucking guy? I can’t believe this is happening in front of Dad, who sits there not saying a damn word.
“Leave,” I mutter.
“Do you see what I mean, Mr. Edwards?” Cole snarls then shakes his head. “I guess this is it, huh?”
“Cole,” Dad warns but pauses to control his own anger. He keeps his expression stern before continuing, “You need to calm down, now.”
This time, I bow my head. Even when your gut tells you the truth, the reality is sometimes far worse. It wasn’t ever meant to last. We were two different people. It’s another reason I chose not to go ahead with the pregnancy. Cole wasn’t ready to be a dad, and if I had forced it upon him, he would have resented the baby and me. That’s no way for a child to grow up.
“It was over a long time ago,” I say in a whisper. “Don’t make it harder than it has to be.”
I’m half-expecting Cole to lash out, his temper worsening of late, but Dad being present is my saving grace. Without another word, he walks toward the door and slams the door behind him. The silence is short-lived as the sound of his engine roaring echoes in the kitchen. Then, on cue, the car accelerates out of the driveway, which I can only assume is not at a safe speed.
My palms lay flat on the countertop while I try to suppress the guilt trying to consume me. The more the guilt fights its way through, the more I feel this is all my fault.
“You made the right decision ending things,” Dad speaks up rather calmly. “If traveling and exploring the world is what your heart is set on, then it’s best you do it without the pressure of trying to hold onto a relationship.”
I raise my eyes to meet his. Did he just accept me going away without his usual condescending tone? I’m taken aback, unsure what to say or do. After my outburst and telling him I hated him, I knew things between us were rocky. Even though he’d offer suggestions of where to go and what to see, I just thought that was small talk.
If this is the olive branch, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt for me to extend mine, just like he has done because right now, I’m tired of fighting all these battles.
“I don’t hate you,” I admit in a low voice. “The night of the party, someone drowned. Everyone panicked, and I … I saved this guy. It was a lot to process.”
“You saved a guy?”
I nod. “Everyone was drunk, including him. I remembered a video I watched on CPR, and, well, I just did it. It’s why Cole is angry with me.”
“Cole is angry you saved a boy’s life?” Dad questions with his brows furrowing. “I don’t understand.”
“His pride is hurt, I guess. I had to perform mouth-to-mouth. Kids at school were teasing Cole that I cheated on him.”
Dad finally nods as it all makes sense. “Alexa, you should never be made to feel like saving a person’s life is wrong.”
“I know,” I mumble. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
A heavy sigh escapes him. “I’m not going to stop you from going to Europe, Alexa. Only if you promise me you will enroll when you return. A college education is integral to your future. Do you understand me?”
With my posture falling like the weight of the world is on my shoulders, I exhale a long breath trying to remain strong.
A year will give me plenty of time to explore and do all the things I want to do. Now, with Cole gone, I’m no longer forced to consider someone else’s fragile ego. The last thing I want right now is a guy telling me what I can or can’t do. The whole jealousy thing is a bunch of BS. I don’t understand men. It’s not sexy at all.
Cole may have been my first love, but he won’t be my last.
Just like Mom once told me, your first love will hurt the most. It’ll be the one you remember, but maybe one day, it will also be the one that guides your heart in the right direction.
Mine is desperate to get on a plane to escape as far away as possible.
And in just under three months, me and my so-called broken heart will be doing exactly that.
FOUR
“Damn, you’re old.”