Page 87 of We Can Stay
“I’m sorry.” The tears come fast, hot. “For lying about the pericarditis. For hiding the stalker stuff. For being such a shitty friend.”
“You could have let me help.” She blinks hard, her own eyes wet. “That’s what hurt most. Not the secrets, but that you didn’t trust me with them.”
“It wasn’t about trust.” I swipe at my cheeks. “I just... I wanted to be normal. To have days where I could forget my heart is literally inflamed and some creep is leaving me presents. I still want that. Pretending felt easier than facing it.”
“I get that. I do.” She squeezes my fingers gently. “But there’s a difference between taking breaks from the hard stuff and complete denial. Right now, you need to face some of it. Scale back until the meds kick in properly. Let people help so you don’t burn out completely. And you also need to make sure you’re paying attention to your surroundings and start driving instead of walking until you know it’s safe.”
“But my business?—”
“Will still be there when you’re healthier.” Her tone brooks no argument. “You’ve got us. Use your support system, Flick. That’s what it’s for.”
I nod, but my thoughts drift to Sebastian. His steady presence. The way he’d check locks twice without making me feel paranoid. How his voice alone could slow my racing heart.
I pushed away the one person who made me feel safest. Hannah’s right—I didn’t give him time to learn what I needed. Instead, I torched everything at the first sign of imperfection.
“What are you thinking?” Hannah asks.
“That I’m an idiot.” I pull Cat into my lap, needing her warmth. “Sebastian’s one in a million, and I threw him away because I was scared.”
“So tell him that.”
“How?” Panic flutters in my chest. “I burned that bridge pretty thoroughly. What if he’s already moved on? What if?—”
“What if you try?” She interrupts gently. “The worst thing that happens is you end up exactly where you are now. But maybe, just maybe, you get a second chance with someone who wanted to understand you enough to try fixing things in the first place.”
Cat purrs against my stomach, a tiny motor of comfort. I stroke her fur, thinking about courage and bridges and the particular terror of hope.
“I don’t know if I can,” I whisper.
“Sure you can.” Hannah bumps my shoulder. “You dye yarn colors that shouldn’t exist in nature. You built a business from nothing. You manage a chronic illness with more grace than you give yourself credit for. Apologizing to one veterinarian? That’s nothing compared to what you do every day.”
She’s wrong about the grace part, but maybe she’s right about the rest. Maybe I can find the words to explain why I ran. Maybe Sebastian will understand that fear makes people do stupid things.
Maybe it’s not too late to rebuild what I burned.
CHAPTER 26
Sebastian
Looking around my office, I search for anything I’ve left behind. Six p.m. exactly—I watch the second-hand tick past twelve on the wall clock. Time to go home.
I’m leaving work and I’m not sick. I’m not going to the emergency clinic. I don’t have a meeting about the sanctuary. I’m not going to Flick’s condo…
That last one is a real bitch to think about. It’s been several days since Flick broke up with me, and each hour has dragged into the next. Even with all the things going on in my life, it feels like I have nothing to look forward to. I keep glancing over my shoulder, thinking about the good times Flick and I had, obsessing over how I could have done things differently, and wondering if there’s still a way I can repair what shattered, and hoping she’s safe.
My phone buzzes, and I nearly drop it while frantically pulling it from my pocket, heart hammering in my chest. Could it be—damn.
Lil’s name glows on the screen. Not Flick. Not anymore.
My chest constricts and I rub my fist against the ache to ease the pain while I check the message.
Call me. Much to discuss about the deal.
Lil—like everyone and everything else—only reminds me of Flick. It was on Lil’s land that Flick and I kissed in that sun-dappled barn, that the stray cat, who now goes by Barney and lives in the office, climbed onto Flick’s lap.
I stare at the text, not realizing I’m clenching my teeth until my jaw starts throbbing.
The sanctuary. My dream project. Everything I’ve worked toward for the past two years, finally within reach.
