Hate to Love You

by Jennifer Sucevic

  Zara grumbles something about “kicking that girl’s ass” under her breath. Which I don’t doubt because Zara is one tough chick. I think Luke has met his match with that one.

  Luke chuckles and kisses her again before loosening his hold. “Chill out, babe. It’s all good. You have nothing to worry about.”

  Just as Zara relaxes against him, a smile curving her lips, her eyes settle on me and she’s back to scowling. “What are you doing with Amanda? Seriously? Three hours ago, I let you into my apartment to cook dinner for Natalie and now you’re here,” she jerks her thumb in the direction Amanda sauntered off in, “whoring it up with that overused vag?”

  Part of me doesn’t want to talk about what happened with Natalie. It’s still too fresh. But if I don’t tell them, then I look like the bad guy. The whoremongering asshole. And you know what? I’m not.

  “Didn’t work out,” I bite out. “Natalie gave me my walking papers.”

  “Get the hell out of here.” A shocked look crosses her face. “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not.” I sigh, and everything in me deflates.

  Looking as confused as I feel, Zara crosses her arms under her breasts. “How did you manage to fuck up? Because she really liked you.”

  I snort. “I made the girl dinner and told her that I loved her. So…you tell me how I managed to screw it up.”

  It’s almost comical the way both of their eyes widen. “No kidding?” she breathes.

  Embarrassed by what I’ve just admitted to my friends, I hoist the beer to my lips and take a drink, trying to wash away the humiliation. It doesn’t work.

  “Dude…” Luke shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “That sucks.”

  “Yeah…that’s a major understatement,” I mutter.

  “But that doesn’t make sense.” Zara frowns as she shakes her head. “Natalie likes you. I know she does. Honestly, all of the years you two spent dancing around each other seemed like some kind of bizarre mating ritual. I wasn’t surprised when you finally got together, just that it took so long to happen.”

  I shrug. I’ve thought the same thing. Minus the bizarre mating ritual part. “Natalie dumped me, Zara” I repeat quietly. “I don’t know what else to tell you. She said she wasn’t ready to get serious.”

  Only now do I realize that her strange behavior this past week makes perfect sense. I knew something was up with her.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t know just how right I was.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Natalie

  “You just decided to break up with him?” Zara asks as she throws herself onto the desk chair in my bedroom and stares at me in an unnerving fashion that would break a lesser woman. “Just like that?” She snaps her fingers to add emphasis to her words. Not that she has to. I get it. She’s annoyed with me. My friend doesn’t understand why I would do something so extreme.

  I fidget nervously with the hem of my shirt and glance away, avoiding eye contact at all costs. Zara has known me since the fourth grade. I’m afraid if she searches long enough—hard enough—she’ll figure out that I’m lying. I need to shut down this line of questioning before it gets out of hand. “Yep.”

  Brows furrowing, she shakes her head. “Why would you do that?”

  Zara wants answers, and I have the feeling she won’t rest until she unearths them. She’s annoyingly tenacious like that.

  I force my gaze back to Zara’s confused one and feed her the same line I fed Brody last night. “Because it seems better this way. He’s leaving for Milwaukee after graduation. He’ll have a lot going on with acclimating to the NHL and travelling during the season. And let’s face it, long-distance relationships rarely work out in the end. There doesn’t seem much point to getting attached or prolonging the inevitable.”

  Most people would agree with everything I’ve just said. Those are legitimate roadblocks to any budding relationship. But already I can tell that Zara isn’t buying it.

  That’s reconfirmed when she says, “I’m calling bullshit.”

  “What?” I sit up a little straighter on the bed and clasp my fingers in my lap to still them.

  “You heard me, I’m calling bullshit. We’ve been friends for twelve years, and I know when you’re trying to BS me. You have a tell.” She tilts her head. “Did you know that? Anytime you try avoiding a situation, you glance away and start fidgeting.” She twirls her finger in my direction. “And that’s exactly what you’re doing now.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “So, let’s just cut the crap. I want to know what’s really going on.”

  I bite my lip and shake my head. “I can’t tell you,” I whisper. Talking about it won’t change anything. I wish it could.

  Rising from the chair, Zara closes the distance between us and sits down on the bed next to me. Her voice softens. “Why?”

  I shake my head and look down at my fingers, which are tangled together. I almost snort. She’s right about the tell. I glance at her as a fresh wave of resolve washes over me. I’m trying to do what’s right for Brody. In the end, that’s all that matters. “There’s no point in rehashing it, Zar. This is the way it has to be.”

  “Explain to me why it has to be this way, because I don’t understand.” When I remain silent, she continues. “I could tell at your birthday party that you were falling for him. What happened between then and now?”

  Brody planning my birthday dinner is what finally pushed me over the edge. That night changed everything for me. For us.

  I wish she would just drop the subject and let it go, but I know that’s not going to happen. Blowing out a breath, I say, “A couple of days ago, Brody’s dad stopped by the apartment to have a little chat.”

  Her eyes bug out. “Well, I certainly didn’t see that one coming.”

  I give a mirthless chuckle as sadness swamps me. I’m all but drowning in it. “Yeah, me neither.”

  “I take it that Brody doesn’t know about it?”

  “No, and I can’t tell him either. It would only cause problems between them, and I don’t want to do that.”

  “What did he say?”

  Even though I’m trying to keep my fingers still, I can’t. They continue twisting together in my lap. “He told me that Brody needed to focus on finishing school and his NHL career. He said I’m a distraction Brody can’t afford right now.” I peek over at Zara. Her jaw is hanging open. “He brought up the fights with Reed and getting thrown out of practice.”

  Anger kindles in her eyes as she snaps her mouth closed. “And naturally, this is your fault?”

  I shrug and force out a breath before admitting, “Yeah, I think it probably is. At least some of it.” I remember the library and the sexy study breaks we took or when he wanted to skip practice so he could make love to me instead. Without me, none of those situations would have occurred.

  Her brows snap together in irritation. “Did you really just take the blame for that?” Instead of her ire being directed at Brody’s father, it’s aimed at me. “Give me a break, Nat. Brody is a big boy, capable of making his own decisions. If he chooses to do something—be it good or bad—that’s on him. Not you.” Disgust fills her voice. “His father had no right to put all that on you.”

  Part of me agrees with what she said. Brody is a twenty-three-year-old man capable of making his own decisions and accepting the consequences of them. But if me being in his life leads to bad choices, isn’t it in his best interests if I back off?

  “Brody has lost enough, Zara.” I can’t get into the specifics with her because they aren’t mine to share. I add, “There’s a lot riding on this season. I don’t want to see him mess anything up with Milwaukee.”

  Putting two and two together, her voice fills with contempt. “His dad told you to dump him, didn’t he?” It’s not really a question. We both know that’s where the conversation was inevitably leading. “He made you feel like all this was your fault and then told you to take a hike.” Zara looks ready to blow a gasket.

  “Yeah
,” I admit reluctantly. Even though talking with Zara doesn’t change the situation, it feels good to let it out.

  Jumping off the bed, Zara paces the length of the room. She looks as upset about everything as I am. “What a jerk! I can’t believe he asked you to do that.” Her eyes harden as she whips around to face me. “Brody has no idea what happened between the two of you. He thinks you don’t care about him.”

  I bury my face in my hands as I remember the looks of pain and confusion that flashed across his face when I told him that we were moving too fast and that I wasn’t looking for anything serious. Letting him go was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. “Please, Zar. Don’t make me feel any worse about this than I already do.”

  “Well, it’s true,” she accuses. “You broke the poor guy’s heart.” She pauses for a beat. “Brody deserves to know the truth. About everything.”

  “That’s not fair,” I whisper brokenly. “Can’t you see that I’m only trying to do what’s best for him?”

  “Did you ever think,” she says carefully, “that maybe you’re what’s best for him?”

  I stare silently as her words filter through my brain.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Natalie

  I worry my lower lip between my teeth as I rush across campus. I’ve been dreading my ten o’clock finance class for obvious reasons. I haven’t run into Brody since he left my apartment a few nights ago. After a little more than a month together, his absence from my life has left a huge void that feels impossible to fill.

  Just as class is about to get underway, I slip into the room and take a seat in the back row. As I take out my materials, I glance around, searching for Brody. Now that we’re no longer together, I expect everything to morph back to the way it used to be. Which means Kimmie should be parked next to him, chattering away.

  My eyes settle on Kimmie, but he’s not there.

  It takes a few more minutes to realize that Brody isn’t anywhere in the small lecture hall. But he’s got to show up, right? This is one of his borderline classes. After fifteen minutes slowly trickle by, it becomes apparent that he isn’t going to show up at all.

  My dread turns into concern. It’s not like Brody to skip class. I may not have realized it before, but Brody’s grades mean a lot to him. He did really well on the last finance test and was able to raise his grade to a low B, which gives him a little bit of breathing room. We may have broken up, and he might not want to see me, but I have a difficult time believing he would jeopardize getting benched.

  As soon as Dr. Miller dismisses us, I fly through the door and out of the building. I slide my phone from my bag and stare at it, wondering if I should reach out and make sure everything’s okay. But I can’t imagine that Brody wants to hear from me. For any reason. So, I reluctantly slide the phone back into my pocket and keep moving.

  Zara’s words have been churning in my head since our talk. Did I make the right decision in letting Brody go? Should I have told him about his dad’s visit?

  I don’t know.

  It may not seem like it, but what I did came from a good place. I want only the best for Brody. If anyone deserves success, it’s him. The last thing I want to do is stand in the way of that.

  As I haul ass past the union, trying to decide what my next step is, my eyes get snagged by a familiar face. His presence is so unexpected and out of place on campus that I grind to a halt. I blink, half-wondering if I’m hallucinating. Our gazes stay locked as my dad rises from the bench he’s seated on and gives me a tentative wave in greeting.

  I hitch my bag higher on my shoulder and force myself to close the distance between us. I haven’t spoken to Dad since the restaurant incident with his fiancée.

  I don’t understand what he’s doing here, of all places.

  “Hello, Nat,” he says when I stop a few feet from him.

  “Hi.” I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other, wishing there was a way to fill the lengthening silence now stretching between us. I hate that this is what it’s come to.

  “Do you have some time for us to talk?” There’s a hopeful note threading its way through his voice.

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to lie, to tell him that I’m on my way to a class…but I can’t. As angry as I still am, he’s here. Making an effort. Can I really brush that off?

  Maybe hashing things out is exactly what needs to happen. We’ve both had some time to cool down. More than that, I hate that we’re not talking. Before the separation, we were close. The yawning gulf that exists between us is painful.

  I nod. “I have a little bit of time.”

  His lips lift in relief. Some of the tension seeps from his body as his shoulders relax. “Good. Do you want to go somewhere else or,” he points to the bench he had been occupying, “sit here and talk? I’ll do whatever’s easiest for you.”

  I glance around. Tons of people are rushing past us on their way to class or stopping at the union for lunch. This is the last place I want to have a heart-to-heart conversation with Dad. I think we need a little more privacy than this area affords.

  I point in the direction I’d been rushing. “There are some tables near Hamlin Hall, at the edge of campus, where we can talk.” I shrug. “It’s more private.”

  “Okay, that sounds good,” Dad agrees.

  We fall in line with one another and walk in silence. There are no two ways about it—this sucks. Our relationship is no longer easy and effortless the way it used to be. Instead, it’s strained and stifling.

  We reach Hamlin Hall, which has a large assortment of tables scattered across the front lawn where students can eat lunch or study. Picking one that’s away from other people, I plunk my bag down on the metal top and take a seat. My dad slides across from me. He fidgets for a few minutes before resting his elbows on the table and threading his fingers tightly together. He stares down at them as if he’s gathering his courage.

  If I weren’t so nervous, I’d smile. Guess I’m not the only one with a tell.

  “First of all, I want to apologize for what happened at the restaurant,” Dad says, looking me in the eyes. “In hindsight, I realize that inviting Bridgette to have dessert with us and not telling you about it was the wrong way to go about things. It never occurred to me that you might feel ambushed, and I’m sorry for that.”

  I shake my head and ask, “How did you see that situation playing out?” I mean, did he seriously think his homewrecking fiancée would sit down with us and all my anger and sadness would just disappear? Or that I’d just magically be over it?

  He opens his mouth and snaps it shut again, shrugging his shoulders. He taps his fingers against the metal tabletop. “I don’t know,” he finally murmurs. “But not like that.”

  I lean toward him as anger and hurt bubble up within me. Ever since he walked out, these feelings have been my constant companion. They’re exhausting. Instead of losing my temper, I inhale a deep, calming breath and slowly release it. “I understand that you’ve moved on, Dad, but I haven’t. I’m still processing the fact that you and Mom aren’t getting back together.” I gulp and force out the rest. “My family has splintered apart, and you’re moving on with your life like it’s no big deal.”

  “I’m sorry, Nat.” His hand slowly slides across the table until he’s able to slip my fingers into his. When I don’t pull them away, he squeezes them tight. “You’re the last person I ever want to hurt. You mean everything to me.”

  You’d think after ten months that the pain of their separation wouldn’t feel so fresh, but it does. I don’t want to get emotional about this, but it’s hard to keep the tears at bay.

  Even though I know it’s not going to happen, I can’t help but say wistfully, “I wish there was a way for you and Mom to work things out.”

  Again, he squeezes my fingers. His eyes become shiny and full of emotion. It’s difficult to witness. And yet it feels good. Kind of like ripping off a Band-Aid. “I wish it could be that way, too. Deciding to leave wasn
’t an easy decision. I spent years thinking about it, Nat. Years,” he emphasizes. His gaze searches mine for understanding. “This was way before Bridgette ever came into the picture.” His shoulders collapse under the weight of his words. “I should have left earlier. But you were still living at home, and maybe I was hoping your mother and I could work through the problems we were having.”

  Everything about this moment feels raw and painful. As much as I appreciate his candor, it’s tough to hear. Tough to digest and accept. I glance away, unsure how to respond.

  “I understand this has been a rough year for you and if I could go back and change that, I would. I hate that any of my decisions have caused you pain.” Dad gulps, his voice breaking with thick emotion. “I miss hanging out with you and hearing about everything that’s happening in your life. I’m missing out on so much right now. I want us to be close again.”

  “I want that, too,” I whisper. Even though I’m still angry with him, I’ve missed Dad being a part of my life.

  “I know my relationship with Bridgette is a sore spot for you. But I’m hopeful that given enough time, the three of us can get to a better place.”

  Even though I can’t imagine that day ever coming, I keep those thoughts to myself. He’s here, and he’s trying to fix our relationship. I feel like I have to at least meet him halfway and be open to the idea. No matter how painful the notion is.

  “I told Bridgette that we need to slow things down,” my father says, catching me by surprise.

  My eyes fill with unshed tears that he’d actually do that. That Dad would put my feelings above his own. “And how did she take that?” Is it terrible that I hope she threw a hissy and told him to take a hike?

  Probably, but I don’t care.

  “She understood. She doesn’t want to get in the way of our relationship.” He smiles just a bit. “I think she was just a little overeager to meet you.” He shakes his head and admits, “I should have put a stop to it, and I didn’t. That’s on me.”