It Starts with Us (It Ends with Us, #2)

by Colleen Hoover

“Are they suggesting you’re so much of an asshole that you’re a whole entire ass?”

washing the dishes unless he could actually see food on them. Glasses, plates, silverware—anything that came back to the kitchen from a table looking fairly clean, he’d just put it straight on the drying rack.

I open my mouth to respond, but I’m interrupted by an incoming text message. I don’t think I’ve ever reached for my phone faster. When I see the text isn’t from Lily, I deflate a little.

It’s been an hour and a half since then, and I still haven’t heard from her. An hour and a half is nothing, but I can’t ignore the nagging in my chest that’s trying to convince me she’s having doubts about everything that was said between us in that five-minute exchange on the sidewalk.

felt this super heavy

I lunge for my phone as if the text is about to self-destruct and I only have three seconds to read it. I shrink when I look at the screen. It’s not from Atlas, but rather from Ryle. Can she eat French fries?

I held her in my arms and knew with every fiber of my being that I would do whatever it took to break the cycle of abuse.

My choice helped me realize that sometimes the hardest decisions a person can make will most likely lead to the best outcomes.

Do I sacrifice what I know will make me happy for the sake of avoiding the inevitable disruption Atlas’s presence would cause? Or will I always have an Atlas-shaped hole in my heart unless I allow him to fill it?

was thinking the same thing, but I also wondered if she memorized my number for other reasons. Back when I wrote it down and put it in her phone case, it was for an emergency. Maybe part of her feared the day she’d need it, so she memorized it for reasons that had nothing to do with me.

Maybe she memorized the wrong number.

Fuck u Atlass. They added an s and underlined ass in my name.

I don’t even have to make small talk. I’d be happy just staring at him in complete silence for an hour.

I definitely underestimate how difficult and confusing interactions with Ryle can be. How do people leave these cycles when they don’t have the resources I had or the support from their friends and family?

“You’re going to drive five miles just to give me a hug?” “I’d run five miles just to give you a hug.”

I’m a Boomer millennial. A boollennial.

If anything is going to remind someone of their first love, trees are probably the last thing you want as a reminder. They’re everywhere. Which is probably why

I’ve thought about Lily every day since I was eighteen, but that could also be because I still, to this day, feel like I owe her my life.