Something inside me broke, and the sharp edges stayed where they landed.
Curtis messaged me:
Gretchen already apologized. Can you just let it go and stop being mad at her?
I was so angry I laughed. I was an only child. Nobody ever taught me how to "be the bigger person."
They only ever taught me that if I believed in something, I should be brave enough to act on it.
Right now was no different.
No.
Curtis, if you keep protecting her like this, we're done.
Nothing from his end for a long time. Then, finally:
I swear it won't happen again.
Things between Curtis and me stiffened after that—not a clean break, but a barb lodged just under the skin.
He still shared bits of his day with me, still invited me out.
After the humiliation on the mountain, I turned him down every time. He never pushed.
With my departure approaching, I decided to find the right moment to say a proper goodbye.
As it happened, he mentioned a new shop that had opened nearby and asked if I wanted to check it out together.
This time, I said yes.
I just never expected it to be a tattoo shop—or that the one greeting us would be Gretchen Winfield.
She shot Curtis a knowing look, all playful eyes and raised brows: