15 HAYESNothing could have prepared me for this moment.
When I texted Maren to meet me for coffee on Sunday afternoon, I knew what I had to do. I knew why I had to see her.
But sitting here across from her, watching her pull the sleeves of her sweater over her palms, watching her run her fingers through her long chestnut-brown hair—that’s a whole other story. I don’t know if I can do what I came here to do. She’s too sweet, too innocent. What I’m about to do will break her.
But that’s exactly why I have to do it. Because the longer this goes on, the harder it will be to end it, and ending it is the right thing for both of us.
So, why is it so damn hard for me to get the words out?
I drum my fingers on the table and watch the ripples in my black coffee. Maren smiles weakly on the other
