Page 19 of Open Arms

I closed my eyes, trying to believe the affirmation as I whispered it aloud. “I am safe. I am worthy . . .” My voice cracked on the last word.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. Unbidden, memories rose to the surface—flashes of violence, screaming, blood. My whole world wiped out . . .

No. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, forcing the images backinto the recesses of my mind. I couldn’t let the past control me. Not anymore.

I refocused on my breathing, anchoring myself in the present moment. The feel of the quilt beneath me. The chirping of birds outside. The lingering aroma of coffee in the air.

“You’re okay, Chloe,” I murmured to myself. “You’re here now. You’re starting over.”

But even as I said the words, doubt crept in. After everything that happened, could I really build a new life here? Find a place to belong?

I thought of the people I’d met so far in Whittier Falls. Eryn with her warm smile and easygoing nature. The other workers at Sunshine Acres who’d welcomed me without judgment. And Mason . . .

My breath caught. Mason, with his gentle eyes that had made me feel safe for the first time in forever. The way he looked at me, like he really saw me . . . until today. Until he snapped at me for just trying to help.

I shook my head. I could let both things be true. Mason made me feel safe, offering me a kind smile, a roof over my head, a friend. And he upset me, because he’s human and we upset people sometimes. My old therapist, Dr. Bannon would be proud of me. But as much as I could intellectualize it, I couldn’t make myself feel any better.

Sighing, I closed my journal and set it aside. I had to focus on my fresh start, on healing myself.

One day at a time.

Breathe in, breathe out. You’re safe now. The past can’t hurt you anymore.

A sudden knock at the door shattered the quiet, making my heart leap into my throat. I froze, clutching the quilt with white knuckles.

The knock came again, louder this time. “Chloe? It’s Mason.”

Mason. I let out a shaky breath, both relieved and terrified. Of course it was Mason. Who else would it have been? More logic, and yet still, the far-fetched possibilities swirled in my head before I heard his voice.

I stood on trembling legs, smoothing my hair with unsteady hands. I couldn’t ignore him, but the thought of facing him, of letting him in, made my stomach churn. I wasn’t good with confrontation. I wasn’t good with a lot of things lately.

Steeling myself, I cracked open the door. Mason stood on the tiny stoop, his dark hair tousled, concern etched on his handsome face. “Hey,” he said softly. “I’m sorry to just show up like this, but I wanted talk.”

“Alright.” I didn’t step outside or open the door any farther. Not to be shady, I just found myself glued to the wood, as if it were the only thing holding me up.

To Mason’s credit, he acted like that was totally normal and didn’t try to push.

“Uh, so . . . how are you settling in?”

I swallowed hard, my grip tightening on the door. “I’m . . . I’m okay,” I managed, hating how small my voice sounded.

Mason’s gray eyes searched mine, seeing too much. “I don’t mean to intrude. I just . . . I care about you, Chloe. And I know starting over in a new place can be overwhelming.”

Tears pricked the back of my eyes. Despite me being kind of pissed at him, his kindness and sincerity touched something deep inside me. But I couldn’t let him in—figuratively or literally, apparently.

I couldn’t risk him seeing the broken pieces of my soul.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “But I’m fine, really. You don’t need to worry aboutme.”

I started to close the door, but Mason’s hand shot out, stopping it. “Chloe, wait. Please.” His voice was low, earnest. “I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but I’m here for you. If you ever need anything, even just someone to talk to . . .”

I hesitated, torn. Part of me longed to fling open the door, to let him wrap me in his strong arms and chase away the shadows. But the other part, the part that had been hurt and betrayed, screamed at me to keep my walls up, to protect myself at all costs.

But the way Mason was looking at me, with such gentle understanding . . . Maybe, just maybe, I could let him in. Just a little.

Slowly, I opened the door wider. “Do you . . . Do you want to come in for a minute?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

A relieved smile broke across Mason’s face. “I’d like that,” he said, stepping inside. “Thank you for trusting me, Chloe.”

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