Page 122 of Fallen Stars

Again, she sets her pen and paper aside. Scooting to the edge of her seat, a soft smile grazes her lips. “It’s normal to fear losing someone you love, Levi. You’ve told me quite a bit about Oliver. I may not know him the way you do, but I have a strong enough picture of him to believe it’d take a true force of nature for him to walk away from you.”

“I don’t want him to say yes and not mean it.”

“Then tell him as much.”

Sounds too easy. Too good to be true.

“Is there more to it?”

As usual, Dr. Hampton knows me better than I know myself.

“He’s told me several times since I’ve been back that he loves me.” I drop my gaze to my lap. “But I can’t say the damn words to him.”

“How does the idea of saying the words make you feel right now?”

Taking a deep breath, I test the words in my head.

Ollie, I love you.

Nervous energy swirls beneath my diaphragm. I close my eyes and focus on the sensation. Break it into parts. Dissect it until I reach the missing or tattered piece. After a moment, an unwelcome thought crosses my mind.

What if I say it and he thinks it’s not genuine? What if he thinks I’m saying it to appease him?

“Jittery.”

“Do you know why?”

I inhale a lungful of air and answer on the exhale. “I’ve never questioned the way Ollie feels about me or how I feel about him.” I clamp my lips between my teeth until it hurts. “But what if he questions my feelings now? What if he thinks myI love yousare from a place of obligation? What if he thinks I’m saying I love you to cope?”

“I want you to picture Oliver.”

I close my eyes. “Okay.”

“In your mind, ask him any or all of those questions. How would the Oliver you know respond?”

Tears sting the backs of my eyes as I open them. “He’d cup my cheeks, look me square in the eye, and tell me he knows how I feel. Then, he’d tell me he loves me.”

Warmth radiates off Dr. Hampton as she gives me a kind smile. “You have your answer.” She glances at her watch, then gathers her pen and paper. “Often, people spend a lot of time brewing over what they think someone will say rather than having an open conversation and hearing how the other person feels. Over time, that supposition grows and festers until it’s unmanageable and they explode. By then, they’re so stuck on a false ideology it’s difficult to believe the truth. Even from the source.”

The truth of her words is a punch to the solar plexus. It renders me speechless, breathless, thoughtless.

Dr. Hampton rises from her chair. “In addition to learning more about your happy triggers and finding a touchstone, I’d like you to have an open conversation with Oliver about what we’ve discussed today.”

Rising from my seat, I follow her to the door. “Okay.”

“Talk through any nervousness at your own pace. And remember that you don’t have to discuss everything in oneconversation. It’s okay to break them into smaller, more manageable chats.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

She rests a hand on my shoulder. “You’re welcome. I’m here if you need me.” With a smile, her hand falls away. “See you on Monday.”

I exit her office, scan the parking lot, then dash to my car—another piece of normal I got back ten days ago—a few spaces away. Unlocking it, I slide behind the wheel, lock the doors, and crank the engine. After I secure my seat belt, I scan the lot again and reverse out of the space.

As I drive through town, I mull over how to broach the subject of moving with Oliver. I also practice saying I love you out loud several times while I’m alone.

The jittery sensation roars to life in my chest again, but this time it feels different. Almost as though I’m telling Oliver I love him for the first time.

“I love you, Ollie,” I say for the umpteenth time as I park in the empty driveway. This time, the words come out stronger.

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