I couldn't breathe.
Andrew.
My Andrew, except he was not anymore. Not since the day he had broken me with a single, half-hearted conversation and a hollow excuse.
I remembered it too clearly. How his voice had gone flat as he said we should break up. How I'd thought maybe it was me, maybe I'd done something wrong, until the whispers at school reached me. Whispers about how he'd been sneaking around with her.
Rebecca. My bully. The girl who had made my life hell for years with snide remarks, snickers in the hallway, bruises nobody else noticed. At least until I built some backbone and confronted her.
And Andrew had chosen her.
That betrayal had burned worse than anything else.
Then, as if he hadn't destroyed me enough, he'd skipped town, off to Romania, of all places, for some family trip he never explained. I'd told myself it was a blessing. That at least I'd never have to see his face again.
So what was he doing here? And just when I had returned home.
