Page 142 of Fumbled Into Love

“I feel so silly,” I admit. “For falling in love with him.”

“Why?” Maren sits on the other side of me, extending a box of tissues.

“Because I want him to love me back.”

That’s the truth of it.

More than anything, I wished he loved me back.

A sharp inhale is the only sound in the room before Maren disappears from the room and returns with a bundle of fur in her arms.

“He was sleeping in the crate, but I think you need this.” She passes the small puppy into my arms and he squirms, settling against my chest. “Jack and I are trying to get him comfortable with the crate, but screw that. Ragnar is the best cuddler and you need that right now.”

I hold Ragnar tightly against my chest, savoring the warmth and love radiating from the small puppy.

“I do feel a bit better,” I say as the small ball of fur begins to wake up, gentle eyes cracking open. After a deep yawn, he leaps from my grip and bolts toward a basket full of toys, grabbing one and thrashing it violently back and forth.

Well, that was a rapid change of personality and a testament to the accuracy of his name.

While Ragnar entertains himself, Maren and Sawyer debate on what movie to watch and my eyes grow heavy from the tears, from the energy I’ve sucked dry to keep myself standing.

I make it twenty minutes throughShrek 2before my eyelids flutter closed and I drag myself into the guest room, flop onto the bed and fall into an unrestful sleep, chalked full of dreams where Deon is mine and not someone I’ll never have.

My phone dings and I snatch it, heart in my throat, hoping it’s Deon.

We barely spoke yesterday morning before I left. It was odd and uncomfortable and my eyes were brimming with tears every time I looked at him.

Declan: How’s the sleepover?

Fine.

That’s not a promising review.

I cried in the refrigerator.

Uh…What?

You can come over if you want. We’re eating breakfast.

My emotions are still volatile though, as a warning.

Can’t. I’m busy.

But check Maren’s front porch.

I break out in a full sprint to Maren’s porch, concerned and confused questions from Maren and Sawyer fading away as I swing the door open and find a massive box perched in the corner to protect from the freezing rain.

I drag the box into the entryway and slam the door shut to keep in the warmth.

“What is that?” Maren asks, toeing the box.

“I don’t know.” I search the outside of the box, looking for any clue, but it’s annoyingly plain. “Declan texted me and said to check the front porch…”

I trail off when I clock the excited smiles on Maren and Sawyer’s faces. Maren lifts the box from the floor, like it doesn’t weigh a ton, and drops it in the living room.

“Open it.”

There’s something I’m missing and my hands begin to tremble.

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