Unloved: Chapter 23

“You look tired.”

I grumble something nonsensical—and probably incoherent—at the twelve-year-old scrounging for food in the pantry before I head to the coffee machine.

My lack of response must be enough to confuse Oliver, because he’s staring at me as I turn around, eyebrows raised like I’ve let a barn animal into the apartment or am wearing a giant inflatable cowboy suit instead of my pajamas.

I look down, just to check.

“Are… you okay?”

“I didn’t sleep well.”

I wait for a quick retort, like Sadie might make, but remember that this is Oliver I’m dealing with.

He watches me make a cup of coffee, which I don’t often drink, with mild concern. Enough that I finally tell him, “I’m fine. Just had a bad night.”

After a long gulp, I jump up to sit on the countertop. It’s only 6 a.m., so I’m not surprised we’re the only ones awake.

There’s a chance neither of us even went to sleep.

“How was your night?”

He shrugs. “Fine. Nothing bad.”

“But you didn’t sleep.”

He shrugs again, and I know I’ve guessed right.

“If you’re having trouble again, we can get you in to see someone.”

Oliver is already shaking his head before I’ve finished my sentence.

“No, Sadie can’t afford all that. She just got me new skates. I’m… I’m fine, Ro.”

He’s upset enough for me to drop it, for now, but I log the information.

Living in a dorm with my best friend and her two little brothers was part of my Sexy College Bucket List, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything else. I love Liam and Oliver like they’re my own brothers, but helping them means I’m helping Sadie, and… I’d do anything for Sadie.

I don’t think I would’ve made it through being so far away from my family for the last three years without her.

And it hurts my stomach to know that she might not know that—that she’s not a burden to me. That she’s the opposite.

By the time I reemerge from my room, Sadie is awake and my phone has racked up twenty-six missed calls from Tyler. It isn’t until I’m out of the dorm building and walking toward the gym for a quick indoor track run that I finally answer.

“What?”

“Jesus Christ, Ro,” he says, his anger nearly making me stop completely and turn back for my room. “I’ve been worried sick.”

“Not that worried, considering you left me stranded an hour outside of town.”

“I’m the one who spent all night trying to call you and check on you.

ignored .”

“I told you I was home safe and needed to be left alone. I needed space—”

“I said I was fucking sorry, Ro. I shouldn’t have left. And honestly, I wouldn’t have, but you were kind of being a bitch and I got really upset and needed to go home.”

“You left me there alone, Tyler, without any of my stuff. It’s not okay.”

. I want to pat myself on the back. Quick, but firm.

.

“It was one time.”

I almost scream.

“It wasn’t though, was it? It wasn’t even the second time. Literally less than a month ago you left me stranded at a restaurant for hours.”

“I said I was sorry for that,” he bites out. “But go ahead and rake me over the coals for it, again.”

This is the first actual conversation we’ve had about it, but sure.

“Tyler—”

“Stop punishing me, Ro. I said I was fucking sorry.”

Less than twenty-four hours of space, and I’m punishing him.

“I need my stuff, Tyler.”

“Meet me for coffee and I’ll give it to you,” he quickly responds.

“Leave it in my office and I won’t report you.”

I can feel more than hear the fury rise in him. I wish I could be happy we are doing this over the phone, away from each other, but Tyler’s best weapon has always been his words.

“Stop. You’re acting like a fucking bitch, Ro.”

“Don’t call me that.” I’m proud of the way my voice doesn’t shake.

“I didn’t,” he sighs, like I’m some petulant child. “I said you were acting like one.”

“That’s the same thing. You’re insulting me over and over—sometimes I’m a bitch, the next moment I’m acting like a child. Pick a different tactic; these insults are making you sound dumber than you are.”

Maybe I shouldn’t goad him, but for some reason I’m walking a little taller after my word vomit, feeling good. Confident.

“Don’t put fucking words in my mouth. You were the one who wanted to get back together. You practically me the other night.”

I stop walking, my stomach swooping as I’m struck by that same sick feeling. Like I’m looking in a mirror for the first time in two years and I what I see.

“Stop calling me, Tyler. I’m done.”

There’s a disbelieving laugh that grates my ears. I kick the brick of the building I’m standing in front of, because I want to scream and cry and maybe test how far I can run before I pass out from exhaustion to get it all out.

“You’re acting like a kid, Ro.”

Laughing a bit too loud as he does , I nearly swallow my tongue, but manage to calmly reply, “I’m not. I’m serious. We’re breaking up, Tyler.”

“We aren’t. Stop being dramatic.”

“By your standards, we weren’t even dating. We were ‘casual.’ I’m being nice by even saying this to you—I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to be done.”

“Sure,” he grumbles. “We’ll talk later. When you’re not as emotional.”

He hangs up. And I think about trying the classic male coping technique.

By the time my session with Freddy comes around on Monday morning, I’ve got a stack of thirty-plus missed-call notifications on my phone and a seemingly endless thread of texts.

Tyler Donaldson is cool, calm, and collected in person—but through a phone call or text, he’s brutal.

Still, I’ve somehow managed to avoid him for two days. My tutoring sessions take place in new locations, all my students willing to meet me wherever I ask. I even take my office hours at other school offices or in private library rooms.

But today is our overlap as GTAs in Tinsley’s class, which is unavoidable. I am a live wire of tension.

The sound of the door makes me jump, and one look at Freddy tells me my reaction did not go unnoticed. His brow furrows, the smile previously on his face melting to apprehension.

“Did I… do something wrong?”

The question is so opposite of everything currently blasting across my phone screen I almost laugh.

“Not at all,” I say. “Sorry, I’m just— It’s a bad day for me today.”

He’s still standing at the door, tall body covering the entryway easily. His entire posture—from the set of his shoulders to the one-handed grip on his backpack strap—screams uncertainty. It’s not a look I’ve seen often on the popular hockey jock, and I quickly decide it’s one I truly don’t like.

“Did you want to cancel?”

“No. I’m good, I promise.”

I manage to release a shaky smile, but it’s enough to have his shoulders relaxing as he makes himself comfortable across the table from me.

Going over the math assignment takes me far too long, mostly because I keep getting distracted by my phone ringing.

And ringing.

Now with new, randomized caller ID numbers—a fact that makes my stomach drop.

The very first time we had a fight, Tyler left in a rage and blocked my number, my social media—everything. It was an unsettling shock for me, one I didn’t know how to handle because he was my very first boyfriend. I didn’t know if it was normal behavior or not, and with Sadie swimming in endless responsibilities with her brothers and dealing with her dad, I didn’t have anyone to ask.

He came to Brew Haven to apologize two days later, saying that he needed me to understand how upset he was. Sadie said it was a fancy way to say he was punishing me.

Which now I know to be true.

Then, after another fight, I didn’t let him punish me. Instead, I blocked him. That had somehow made things worse. And since we got back together again and again, Tyler continued to see it all as a success.

Hence the random numbers currently blowing up my phone.

Finally, when the ratcheting anxiety is nearly ready to burst from me, I toss my still-vibrating phone into my bag—too harshly, as my student stops his scribbling and looks up at me, eyebrows high before his eyes narrow as he takes me in.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Fine,” I squeak out. But for some reason there are tears in my eyes.

not again.

Freddy, as usual, sees right through my lie. Yet he doesn’t call it out.

Instead, he shuts his textbook, a move that has me double-checking my watch and the loud clock on the wall.

“I have an idea,” he says, palms flat on the table as he leans slightly over it. “Why don’t we skip class?”

A denial, full and resolute, should be spilling from my open mouth. Instead, it’s a quiet, blushing confession.

“I’ve never done that before.”

He grins—not the one he usually dons; this one is all innocent boyish charm. Gentle, genuine.

Real.

“Me neither.”

“Really?” I laugh. “That’s…”

“Surprising?”

I shake my head. “No, actually, that makes a lot of sense.”

“Yeah?” he says, sounding skeptical, but intrigued. He leans forward.

“Yeah.” I nod, smiling softly up at him. “You’d never want to even letting someone down. You… you always show up.”

There’s a hitch in his breath, and if I didn’t know him better—the fact that I’m sure everyone has complimented him enough to last a lifetime—I’d say he’s yearning to hear the words.

They wash over him like water on a sunflower.

He reaches for my backpack to sling over his other shoulder. It makes my entire body feel warm—not because the action is inherently romantic, but because it is gentle and kind. Something I want, desperately.

We head out of the library and toward the small covered parking lot. Freddy smiles brightly as several people stop to greet him. I try to stay back a step to give him some space, but every time I falter, he turns back to wait for me.

Almost worriedly. Like I’m going to disappear.

Eventually, we make it to his car, where he tucks me into the worn leather passenger seat, shutting the door before jogging to his side.

“So, what do we do now?” I ask. My knees bob up and down, brain swimmy from the adrenaline coursing through me. I feel almost giddy.

And sure, maybe it’s the relief of not having to see Tyler today. But I think it’s more the Matt Fredderic Effect.

He makes everything ten times better. I’ve always known he was intoxicating to be around—since the first time I met him I’ve been entranced—and it has nothing to do with his beauty.

I look over at him, see his bright green eyes crinkling with a grin. Plush, too-pink lips and smile lines carved into his cheeks.

No. It’s not about what he looks like at all. It’s , just as he is, like a magnet pulling forever at my focus until all I can see is him.

Tyler makes me feel small and naive, silly.

Sadie makes me happy, but with her there is always the weight of responsibility. The need to care for her is ingrained in our friendship.

But Matt is different.

His presence feels warm and vibrant. Being around him is like the climb before the drop of a roller coaster—bright anticipation filled with the safety to free-fall without getting hurt.

Around him, am the fun, exciting one. Not the tagalong or the audience to him.

“What’s something you’ve never done but always wanted to do?”

My mind fills with images, all inspired by my dusty Sexy College Bucket List somewhere on my desk, under a pile of printed articles on creativity and its effect on the brain.

Shaking my head, I settle for a safe, “I’ve never been ice skating, actually.”

He freezes, mouth opening and closing before a mischievous glint appears in his eyes and he’s starting the car.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“To the arena.”

“Are we allowed in there?”

He shrugs. “We’re already skipping class, princess. What’s another rule broken?”