Page 96 of Fumbled Into Love

One by one, Henry, Jack, and Declan rise until we’re tangled in a weird hug, where I’m at the center, barely holding back tears.

“If you want to make it real,” Henry says, “then make it real. Don’t waste any time like I did. I loved Sawyer for years, and I never told her. I told myself it was easier that way. I’ll always wonder what life would look like if I had told her sooner.”

“Fight for it. If she’s worth it—if she makes you feel important and cared for—then fight for her,” Jack says. “Your past is not your future.”

“It explains a lot,” Declan says, releasing me from the hug and untangling from Henry and Jack.

“The whole anti-love thing you have going on.” He waves his hand around my face. “Except… I don’t think you can say you’re anti-love anymore, can you?”

I grunt.

I am not a fan of how he can cipher through my bullshit, and I dislike being the recipient of the love advice.

They allow my annoyed grunt to end the conversation, but Jack and Henry give me knowing, hopeful looks as they walk out the door.

Declan’s halfway to disappearing through the door when I stop him.

“Hey, wait.” Nerves eat at my stomach, and I stumble over the question. “Uh—Well…”

Declan’s gaze flickers around the room. “What’s up?”

I blurt it out.

“Nathalie and I want you to stay with us for the holidays.” Bright blue eyes widen with shock. “Only if you want. But we want you to.”

Hesitation flickers across Declan’s face, and it’s a stab in the gut.

“Was this Nathalie’s idea? I told her I’mfine.”

He spits the last word, and he seems far fromfine,but I’m not going to argue with him. I’m not exactly in the best place mentally, considering I’m falling in love with Nathalie, and there’s an expiration date on our deal, so I’m not going to question him.

“It was my idea.”

“Why?”

“We’re friends,” I say, voice meek, “You would do it for me.”

Declan’s head tilts as he evaluates me, and I’ve never been so exposed. The easy road after my friends betrayed my trust was to ensure no one else could get close enough to hurt me again. I did it in my love life and with my friendships.

Declan, however, is the type of person who slowly worms his way past your defenses with his goofiness and loyalty until he’s firmly planted in your life. He loves deeply and indiscriminately, and I want to offer that back to him.

“Alright,” he says, shoulders drooping.

“How are you?” I ask.

I’m hoping my willingness to open up will help him do the same. While our situations are opposites, a kernel of shame has sat firmly lodged in my stomach.

Declan’s blue eyes water, and a lone tear slips out.

“I miss him,” he admits, swiping his cheeks. “Sometimes I pull out my phone to text him, but reality crashes down, and it’s like I’m getting the news over again.”

Fuck.

I drag him into a crushing hug, and he sinks into my embrace. The thought of never speaking to Nathalie again flickers into my mind. It makes me want to vomit.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper. “About Nathalie. With myself. I’m lost.”

For so long, I’ve held my shame and trauma so tightly to my chest that I don’t know how to loosen my grip, to stop giving it the power to control my life.

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