All I can think about is how torn I’d been when I’d received the call from Cincinnati. “I love you,” I whisper almost brokenly, “I didn’t want to leave you.”
“I know,” he says softly, “that’s why I had to let you go.” Again he gently kisses the top of my head. “I couldn’t be more proud of you, Ivy. For everything you’ve achieved. And what you’re still going to accomplish. There was no way I could hold you back from doing that.”
Squeezing my eyes tightly shut, I murmur, “But that was my decision to make, not yours.” I understand why he did it. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same for him but still… I feel tricked into choosing Cincinnati.
It’s like he knows exactly what I’m thinking because instead of agreeing with me, he asks, “Wouldn’t you have done the same for me?”
As difficult as it is, I gulp down the thick emotion that’s now choking me. I don’t answer because we both know I would have. I wouldn’t have allowed him to give up on his hopes and dreams of playing in the NFL.
“Ivy?”
Tears seep into my words. “I would never want to stand in your way.”
Pulling away just a bit, the blunt tips of his fingers slide under my chin before lifting my face so that my eyes are able to lock onto his. “And I won’t stand in yours. I’ve never cared for anyone the way I care about you. I hope you realize that.”
Doesn’t he understand that his words only make walking away even more difficult? It was so much easier when I thought he wanted to focus on his dreams. Knowing he broke up with me so I could pursue mine has all the pain of our parting bubbling up to the surface again.
“So what now?”
The fierceness leaves his eyes only to be replaced by sadness. “I think you need to focus on dance, Ivy. You need to throw yourself one hundred percent into this. And you won’t be able to do that if you’re thinking about me. If you have one foot in Cincinnati and another back here at Barnett. The last thing I want is to let you go, but I think it’s best if I do.”
Squeezing him tight, I give him one last hug before untangling myself from his arms. As much as I hate what he’s saying, I know he’s right. Roan has his dreams and I have mine. And they’re not going in the same direction.
When my phone buzzes again, I quickly swipe at the tears now streaking freely down my face. “I have to go. My dad is waiting downstairs for me.”
Backing away, I turn before forcing myself to move towards the elevator. If I don’t leave now, I’m not sure I’ll be able to. Everything within me is screaming for me to stay.
“Ivy?”
His voice is low, almost broken sounding, as if it’s been dredged from deep within. Even though it’s painful to glance back at him, I do. I can’t help myself. As our eyes collide, my heart cracks wide open before splintering into a million fragmented pieces right here in the middle of the thinly carpeted apartment corridor.
“I love you,” he finally whispers.
Stifling a sob, I whip around before racing towards the stairwell that leads down to the lobby. I can’t even wait for the elevator. It’s taking everything I have inside to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
To leave him behind at Barnett while I move forward with my life in Cincinnati.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Roan King is certainly lying low these days. Not sure what’s going on with him. Is our guy just focused on winning more football games for Barnett or is it something more? If anyone has insider knowledge, please post! KingOfCampus.com
Sitting down with a beer at the kitchen table, my dad clears his throat before saying, “I’m proud of you, Ivy. This is a really big deal, being picked at this audition.”
Surprised by his words, my eyes slide to his. “Thanks.” A moment later my gaze falls back to the tall glass of water I’ve spent the better part of twenty minutes staring at before admitting softly, “I wasn’t sure if you would be happy about this… about dropping out of school.”
He takes a deep breath before slowly blowing it out. “I’ve always thought finishing up your degree was important. I wanted you to be able to get a good job and have something solid and dependable to fall back on, something with a little job security if dancing didn’t work out.”
My eyes rise to his as he continues. Because it sounds suspiciously like he feels exactly the way I thought he did.
“But I also know you love dance. You always have. Ever since you were a little girl. You were accepted at Barnett and into the Paris program. Now you’ve been selected out of all those women competing for just two spots. I always knew you were good,” he shrugs his shoulders, “but you’re obviously a lot better than just good. What I want, what I’ve always wanted is for you to follow your dreams. And this is your dream, Ivy. So how can I not support you in achieving it?”