Chapter 45 (2/2)

And what the hell is wrong with me?

I’m here, inches away from Dakota, her hands in mine. Nora shouldn’t be on my mind. This is the worst possible time to think about Nora and the way her eyes are impossible not to get lost in, the way her bottom lip pouts out farther than the top.

And then I realize it: thinking about Nora is much less complicated than trying to understand the logic of Dakota’s emotions. I don’t have a clue what to say to my ex right now. She’s telling me that I did too much for her, that in some way I prevented her from doing things for herself, and I’m too afraid of pissing her off to come up with anything decent to say in response. I certainly can’t point out that I didn’t put her in a box. That I was a safe space, but never a jail. That I never curbed her freedom on purpose. That all I ever wanted was to help her in any way possible . . . her and her brother, Carter.

Dakota shifts on the couch and tucks her feet under her, still holding my hands, waiting for my response.

All I can do is speak the truth, with as little anger as possible. “You can’t expect me to apologize for being good to you.”

Her hands are still in mine. She pulls one away and again tucks her hair behind her ear before she looks at me.

“I don’t expect that.” She sighs and licks her lips, wetting them. “I’m just saying, at the time I needed a break from you, from us.” She moves our joined hands back and forth between us.

At the time?She’s speaking in the past tense, like our breakup is something that we are . . . moving past? Forgetting about?

I look up to catch her eyes. “What are you trying to say? That you don’t need a break anymore?”

She pushes her upper teeth over her lower lip as she takes my question in.

The weirdest part of this is that I don’t know how I feel. One week ago, if this conversation played out the exact same way as it’s playing out now, I would’ve felt differently. I wouldn’t feel