Page 89 of We Can Stay
I could call. Leave a voicemail she might delete without listening. Send a text she might ignore.
Or I could show up. Really show up. Not with solutions or care packages or twelve-point plans for making her life easier. Just... me. Flawed and frightened and finally ready to stop running.
“Watch the office,” I tell Barney, already grabbing my keys.
He yawns, showing every one of his tiny teeth, then returns to his kibble. Priorities.
The clinic door slams behind me as I rush to my car. Now I just need to figure out what the hell I’m going to say.
I can see Knit Happens’ warm lights spilling onto the sidewalk as I park outside. Through the window, shadows move—the crafters settling in for their meeting.
I take a deep breath and get out, my steps falter at the door. What if she tells me to leave? What if I’ve hurt her too badly? What if?—
No. No more what-ifs. No more running. No more armor.
Just truth.
CHAPTER 27
Flick
“So.” Maya looks around at the circle. “What’s new?”
I bite my lip, wanting to share but also slightly embarrassed. “Well... I started therapy. Went to the first session yesterday. I figured it would be a good way to, you know, work through fears over my illness.”
The girls gasp and clap at my announcement, their projects momentarily forgotten.
“Flick, that’s great!” Alexis’s whole face lights up, and I notice she’s already halfway through what looks like a complicated lace pattern.
Heat creeps up my neck and I shrug. “Thanks.” I’m happy to have their support but still feel exposed.
“How is it going with the steroids?” Devin’s question is gentle, mixed with concern.
“Better than I thought it would. I’m tapering off them, and the NSAIDs are making me queasy, but not as bad as they used to be.” My stomach rolls at the memory of this morning’s dose, but it’s manageable. Everything’s manageable when you learn to read your body’s signals.
Hannah beams at me from across the circle, pride radiating from every line of her face. Our eyes meet, and I pour all mygratitude into that look. She’s the one who convinced me therapy wasn’t giving up—it was giving myself the tools to fight smarter.
“Any more news on the stalker?” Maya hesitantly asks and I’m already shaking my head.
“I did speak to the detective on my case yesterday. He said they couldn’t find any prints on the package or yarn aside from mine and since it was hand delivered, with no label or tracking, that was a dead end too. My file’s still open and active, but until something else happens, I’m not expecting much.”
Alexis’s fingers fly as she knits a pair of socks. “Have you heard from Sebastian? Or is that?—”
A knock on the front door cuts through Alexis’s question. We all turn in our seats at the interruption.
“I’ll tell them we’re closed.” Hannah’s already standing, but then she freezes. “Huh. Speak of the devil.”
My heart slams against my ribs and my hands start to tremble. Sebastian stands on the sidewalk, shoulders hunched against the evening chill. Even from here, I can see the uncertainty written across his face, the way his weight shifts from foot to foot like he’s calculating whether to stay or flee.
“I—I’ll get it.” The words stumble out as I set my project aside. My legs feel unsteady as I cross the floor. Each step echoes too loud in the sudden quiet.
The door handle is cold under my palm. “Hi.”
Cedar and vanilla wash over me, that scent I’ve been trying to forget but that my pillow still holds traces of. Standing this close, I can see the exhaustion etched around his eyes, the way his scrubs hang looser than they used to. My body remembers his warmth, and I have to grip the doorframe to keep from swaying toward him like yarn drawn to static.
“Hey.” He licks his lips, a nervous habit I recognize from our first date. “Can I—can we talk?”
Behind me, I feel rather than see my friends studiously not staring. Maya’s needles click in an overly casual rhythm. Devin clears her throat. The performance of disinterest is almost comical.
