Page 6

“I can’t see you anymore, Pierce,” she says, before I can say anything else.

“What?” we sputter over top of each other.

“You’re breaking up with me?” I ask, suddenly incredulous, even though I was here to do the sam.

“You’re joining the Navy? What? Did your Dad offer to pay you?”

“Well, that was uncalled for. No. I don’t exactly have a choice. If I don’t enlist, that senator and his douchebag son are going to sue my father, and by extension, the company. It’ll ruin his IPO. You know he’s not going to let that happen, so as soon as this fucking concussion heals, I’m gone. But back up for a second here. You’re dumping me? You’re dumping me?”

Arie pulls her sweater tighter around her and shakes her head with a sad smile. “You make it sound like I’m breaking up with the perfect Prince Charming. I just can’t do this anymore, Pierce. You made your priorities more than clear that night in the hotel, and they don’t involve me, or my feelings. Or my safety. So yes, I’m dumping you. Prince Pierce Cochran, he who deigned to date the garbage man’s daughter all these years. The scholarship student. I know you probably think you were doing me a favor, but…”

Tears start to form in the corners of her eyes, and my stomach hurts in a way I’m not used to. Is this guilt? Is this what guilt feels like?

“Hey… It’s not like that. It was never like that. I… I love you, Arie.”

She shakes her head again. “I don’t think you know what love is, Pierce. But maybe you’ll learn. One day.”

With that, she gets up from the table and walks out of the coffee shop, without so much as a backward glance. And I’m left sitting alone, consumed by an emptiness I didn’t even know I was capable of feeling.

I let her walk away, and I have a sinking suspicion I will regret it for the rest of my life.

Arie

New York City, 2014

Since I left Pierce sitting in that coffee shop on Fifth Avenue a month ago, there’s not a day gone by that I don’t feel sick about it. It’s not that I didn’t love him, that I don’t love him, but after that night in the hotel… there’s no chance he’s going to grow up. He’ll just never be the kind of man I need him to be, and I can’t change that. I can’t force him to take responsibility for his own life.

Mr. Cochran apparently still thinks there’s hope for him, making him join the SEALs. I can’t picture it. Pierce was never good at taking instructions, or advice, or responding to any sort of authority, so the idea of him surviving six months of extreme training is above and beyond anything I can imagine. Since it worked out really well for his little brother Logan, I’m not entirely surprised that Mr. Cochran hoped it would do the same for Pierce. I know what Logan went through during his time in California, and it was no joke.

The truth is, since the hotel, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Pierce. I don’t exactly miss him. The last few years of our relationship felt kind of like we were on auto-pilot. Neither of knew how to get out, so we just kept going, hoping the other one would do something to save us. Even if it’s over, and the humiliation of the hotel room is fading, I’m not sure that the lingering haze of our relationship will ever fully leave me.

It’s ten in the morning, and I’m sitting behind the counter at my Uncle’s auto shop. Nobody’s called yet today, and there’s no simple work like oil changes to keep me busy, so my mind is obsessing over what happened with Pierce. I’d like to figure out something to do to keep my mind off him and to help my uncle and cousins keep this place afloat, but I look around and there’s nothing. It’s a tough city to succeed in at the best of times and my family has always struggled.

The only reason that I could even afford to go to the same high school as the Cochran boys was because I got in as scholarship student. Then, while Pierce was off at Columbia studying, I was working three jobs to afford night classes at a tech school. Now, at the ripe age of twenty-four years with no degree, here I am swimming in student loan debt, spending my days arguing with people over coupons for lube jobs.

Not to mention my boyfriend is gone.

This is not how I imagined my life would turn out.

I’m totally lost in thought when my Uncle Sal walks into the lobby from the garage, wiping the sweat away from his forehead with a grumble.

“Hot as hell today, huh, Arie Belle?”

I nod, leaning into the desk fan to try and clear some of the nausea that has been plaguing me since the summer heat set in. I seem to have lost my tolerance for it this year.

“It feels worse than usual this year. And earlier than usual too. I just want to go jump in the Hudson, sewage and all,” I say as I wave an order for parts in his direction. He walks up and takes it, then eyes me suspiciously.

“You look a bit green, Arie. Are you sure you don’t have the flu? Should you go home? I can call your Aunt Marie down to cover the phones.”

I shake my head. “I’ll stop by the clinic in the drug store on the way home, just to get checked out. They don’t charge as much as a walk-in and I’m… between insurance policies at the moment.”

Uncle Sal frowns and reaches into his jeans pocket, coming back with a fifty-dollar bill. I try to shove it away, but he won’t let me. “We both know I don’t pay you enough, Arie. The least I can do is slip you some cash to see a doctor. Working in this sauna has probably given you heatstroke.”

I cross over from behind the reception desk and give Uncle Sal a hug. But the minute he squeezes me, I feel my stomach start to roll, and I run for the wastebasket, where I empty the contents of my belly in one swift hurl. When I turn around, I’m not sure if my cheeks are burning from fever or from embarrassment. Uncle Sal just shakes his head and points toward the door.

“Would you get out of here, kid? Please? I’m calling Marie. Go to the doctor!”

I grab my bag and squeeze his hand as I walk out onto Avenue C with an achy sigh. The heat outside is no better, and the buildings are blocking any airflow, so it’s even more oppressive on the city streets. I love New York, but sometimes… I wish I could pack my things and move to a ranch in Wyoming. Sure, you can’t get a decent Pad Thai at three in the morning, but at least there is always fresh air.