Page 34 of Shea's Hero

But if I want any chance of fixing things…

“Because I never stopped thinking about you. That’s why—” I gesture at the bookshelf. “But I told myself I was okay. Happy. That it was my screw-up and I had to deal with it.”

“And now?”

“When I saw you, I knew. The happiness I thought I had? It wasn’t the same. I don’t feel the same when I’m not with you. And… I miss you. I know it’s probably too late, and I understand. But I thought I could at least tell you. Explain why.”

Oliver stares at me, emotion working in his eyes. He runs a hand through his dark hair, tugging at it. “Shit, Shea.”

My heart drops.

It’s too late. And the only person to blame is me.

“When I heard you were hurt, I was beyond scared. The thought of something happening to you… and knowing you were so sick and I wasn’t there? It kills me.”

My voice is small. “I’m sorry.”

“But.”

“But?”

“I miss you, too. And there hasn’t been anyone else. No one comes close to you, Shea.”

“Oll?” Cautious hope wars with dread. “What does that mean?”

“It means…” Turning to me, he takes my hands as his gaze burns into mine. “We both made mistakes. But we’re human, too. And if we still care about each other, maybe we should give this another try.”

“I do. Care about you.”

Maybe now’s not the time to tell Oliver I never stopped loving him.

“So do I.” His thumb strokes across the back of my hand. “I never stopped.”

Then, with a hopeful smile, he asks, “What if I took you on a date? A real one, like we used to? And we go from there?”

Oh.

Nora was right.

Happy tears prickle behind my eyes this time. “Yes. I would really like that.”

CHAPTER 8

OLIVER

“You brought flowers!”

Shea beams at me as she stands in the doorway, her gaze moving to the large bouquet I’m holding. Her cheeks go pink as she says, “Lilies. You remembered.”

“How could I forget?” I hold out the bundle of pink and cream-colored flowers to her. With a smile, I add, “I think I bought them for you enough.”

“You did. Every week.” As she takes the bouquet from me, her expression sobers. Her voice dips in apology. “Oliver. I’m really?—”

“Hey.” Catching her free hand, I give it a little squeeze. “You don’t need to say it again, Shea. We’ve been through it.”

“Still.” She tilts her head back to meet my gaze. “I just… want you to know how sorry I am. That I’ll never do something like that again.”

As it has ever since Shea told me the truth two nights ago, the heavy weight of guilt settles on my chest. It’s the same weight that I held onto for months—years, really—after Maya was hurt. Guilt that I wasn’t there, that I failed the people I love the most.

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