Chapter 63

We walked away from his family. I could feel the finality in every step. His mother's words echoed in my head. Her venomous tone had shocked me. I still couldn't believe she had been so awful. Never in my wildest dreams would I have believed a mother could ever say such things to her own child.

I stayed silent as we walked to my car. Tension radiated off him. I could sense his raw vulnerability. He had been laid bare by the woman who should've been his fiercest protector, and he needed to process.

We got in the car and he looked out the window and away from me. I could only imagine how embarrassed he was. He didn't need to be but emotions weren't always rational.

I started my car and headed toward the gate. He watched the house disappear in his side mirror. I couldn't begin to imagine what he was feeling, which meant I didn't know what to say to break the tension.

I decided to start with the easiest thing first. "I'm sorry," I said.

He said nothing. He just kept looking out the window.

I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I said that stuff to your mom. If I was out of line, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overstep. I hated what she said to you and I just had to say something."

He shook his head but remained silent. My heart ached for him. He had to know his mother was wrong, didn't he? Archer was a good man through and through, down to the depths of his soul. He had pushed me out of my comfort zone, encouraging me to try new things. He helped me organize the fundraiser that had changed so many lives. Without him, I would have remained stagnant in my comfort zone.

Without him, I would never have fallen in love. I needed to tell him. He needed to know someone loved him. I wanted him to know he was none of those things his mother accused him of.

"Stop," he said.

"What?"

"Stop the car. Pull over."

"Do you need some air?" I asked and quickly rolled down his window.

"Stop the damn car," he ordered.

I quickly pulled to the side of the road. "Are you going to be sick?"

"No." He turned to look at me. The pain in his eyes hurt me to my very core. "I can't do this anymore."

I reached out to touch him, but he pulled away. "I know," I said softly. "No one could put up with that. It's too much. I would never tell anyone to cut off their loved ones, but in this case, I think it would be better if you cut her out of your life. She's cancer?—"

"Us," he said. "I can't do this with us."

"What?" I asked with confusion. "Me? You don't want me to go to your family's house?"

He looked me in the eyes. "This thing we have? It's over."

My heart felt as if it had been punctured. "Over?" I whispered. "Archer, you don't mean that." I reached out a shaking hand and touched his arm. He didn't flinch away but he didn't look at me either. His gaze was fixed on his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

"I do mean it," he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. "I can't drag you into this mess. My mess."

"You're not dragging me into anything," I said.

"Mary Ellen, you're a sweet girl, but I think we both know this isn't going anywhere. We had fun. Now, it's over."

I shook my head, tears pooling in my eyes. "No, it's not. It can't be."

"I'm sorry, Mary Ellen," he said again, more firmly this time. "I don't want you to get hurt because of me."

"I'm not a delicate flower," I argued. "I know that's what everyone thinks, but I'm more than that."

"I'm not right for you." He shrugged like he was talking about a movie he didn't like. "I will always bring you trouble. Trouble like Cole, like my abusive mother, like Samantha Hunt. You need to distance yourself from me before I fuck up everything in your life too."

"I don't see it that way," I countered, my voice barely above a whisper. I struggled to suppress my tears. "Archer, I've seen how good you are. You're not what your mother said. I see you. I see the man you really are."

"But that's just it, Mary Ellen," he said. "You shouldn't have to look hard to see a good man. You deserve someone who can give you a nice life, not one filled with constant drama and bullshit. You deserve happiness."

"And since when is it up to you to decide what I deserve?" My chest blazed with fire, a surge of anger overtaking my aching heart. "I can decide for myself what I want and I choose you, Archer."

"You shouldn't," he finally said. "I don't choose you."

"You're talking crazy!" I exclaimed.

"No," he said. "For once, my mind is clear. I understand my place and it isn't with you or my family."

The tears fell, no longer held at bay by my anger. They slid down my cheeks, hot against my skin. I didn't wipe them away, instead choosing to let him witness the raw pain his words were causing me.

"I can't believe you're doing this," I said.

"Goodbye," he said and opened the car door.

"What the hell are you doing?" I shouted.

He slammed the door behind him.

I opened my door and got out. "What are you doing?"

"Go home, Mary Ellen."

"Home? Home!" I cried, my voice echoing down the road. "And what are you going to do?"

He continued walking away, his back rigid with resolve.

"Archer!" I called again, louder, desperate.

He never turned around.

He had really just broken up with me. I got back in my car and sat perfectly still for a while. My mind was reeling.

Tears blurred my vision. His words still stung. Over? How could it be over just like that? Things had been great. How could he just go from the warm, protective man that saved me from his crazy friend to dumping me?

Did Cole say something to him? Did he manage to turn Archer against me? I couldn't believe Archer would ever believe anything Cole said. Something else had happened. Something inside him had shifted.

"Breathe, Mary Ellen," I told myself, choking back a sob.

I rested my head on the steering wheel. Every inhalation felt like swallowing shards of glass. Every heartbeat throbbed with his name.

With trembling hands, I reached for the ignition, turning the key as if on autopilot. The engine purred to life, yet it took several agonizing moments before I could coax my foot to press down on the accelerator.

I drove aimlessly through town and kept replaying the conversation. It felt very one-sided.

Why did he get to break up with me without me getting a say? He was deciding for me. I blamed his mother. And Cole. They put him right back in a prison cell. They were never going to let him break free of his past. The man had done everything he could to return to a normal life and they weren't going to be satisfied until he was miserable and alone.

I seethed, my vision clouding again with renewed tears. "Enough," I muttered to myself, wiping my eyes hastily.

I drove home. To my relief, no one was there. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to be alone and wallow in misery.

I got out of my car slowly, feeling as though wadded cotton had been stuffed in my ears, dulling and muting the sound. My legs felt heavy and my heart felt like it had shattered and fallen to my stomach in jagged little pieces.

Unlocking the front door was mechanical, a routine so embedded in my daily life that I didn't need to think about it. Inside the house, I dropped my purse on the entryway table and kicked off my shoes. It was too silent. The quiet only amplified my loneliness.

In the living room, I walked over to the window and peered out, scanning the empty street. No sign of him, but a foolish part of me half-expected to see Archer leaning against his bike, regretting his words and actions.

I tried to distract myself with television, flipping through channel after channel without really seeing what was on screen. When that didn't work, I turned to cleaning. In a fit of frustrated energy, I scrubbed every corner of the house, dusted every surface, and mopped every floor. Then it was my bedroom. I had a sudden need to clean out my closet.

I turned up the music, opened the closet doors, and stared at my wardrobe. My days working in a library were over. I was sick of the boring, safe dresses and skirts. My beige, black, and blue wardrobe screamed at me.

Everything needed to change, starting with my color palette.

Pulling out a brightly patterned dress I had never worn, I held it up against my body and studied myself in the mirror. The vibrant colors were jarring, so different from the safe, neutral tones I was used to. But now more than ever, I felt ready to inject my life with color.

There was a full-on fashion show in my room as I tried on every piece of clothing. Some ended up in a heap on the floor, deemed too old fashioned or too dull. Others found their way back into the closet, just for now.

I felt a sick satisfaction in purging my wardrobe, in casting off the old. I was clearing space for a new Mary Ellen, one who wouldn't let herself be walked on or dismissed so easily. One who would fight for what she wanted.

I felt lighter. It was a good distraction from my heartbreak. Finally, with my closet emptied and my floor covered in piles of clothes to donate, I collapsed onto my bed. Exhausted yet strangely exhilarated.

I stared at the ceiling, my mind filled with a whirlpool of emotions. The pain started to come back. I hopped off the bed and headed downstairs to get some trash bags. Rylee was leaning against the kitchen island, scrolling through her phone and eating ramen.

"What the hell are you doing up there?" she asked. "Are you having a dance party?"

"Nope. I'm cleaning out my closet."

"Really?"

I nodded firmly. "I'm sick of being the old Mary Ellen."

Rylee stopped scrolling and looked at me with a skeptical look. "Old Mary Ellen? What do you mean?"

I paused, gathering my thoughts. "I've always been the one who played things safe. Who never spoke louder than a whisper even when shouting was needed. Who always wore boring colors just to blend in with the crowd. I've been quiet for too long and I'm sick of people dismissing me."

"Who is dismissing you?"

"Everyone," I snapped. "And I'm sick of it."