Page 86 of Perfect Guy

“I think I’m losing him,” I cry, my throat sore.

“He’s going through a hard time. Be patient and give him time to heal.” My mom’s words don’t help.

“I’m going to my room.” My face is probably red and swollen. I sniff, rubbing my eyes. Before my mom can say anything else, I walk up the stairs and close my bedroom door.

Fishing my phone out of my purse, I check for any messages. A flicker of hope inside of me thought Canaan might have written to me. It dims right away when I come up empty. I lie in bed, opening our messages and reading through them. I go back to weeks of messages, reading them through blurry vision as I cry.

My imagination didn’t run wild. Canaan really made me believe I meant the world to him. At the snap of a finger, he gives up. He turns his back on us and lets me walk away.

I hate it. I hate this situation. I hate that he’s pushing me away when I should be by his side, taking care of him. It’s what I want to do.

I hiccup through my tears and realize that his silence is deafening. He doesn’t want me around. I thought showing up at his place would be useful, but I was wrong. From now on, I’ll give him the space he seems to need. He’ll tell me when he’s ready to see me. If he doesn’t, then I’ll know we weren’t meant to last. Despite how much I thought we were.