Page 61 of Feels Like Forever

Why? Because although I thought I pulled myself from the shadows of my mom’s mistakes years ago, they’re still looming over me.

The fear she planted in me—the fear of ruining lives with one decision, of snowballing down a mountain because I paused to look at a snowflake—is still living in my bones. And it has just occurred to me that I’m letting the fear win by staying in my bubble simply because I’ve always assumed I had nothing to gain by leaving it…only something to lose.

But what if thereissomething to gain?

“Do I…?” Landon breaks the silence. I look up and find him watching me uncertainly. “Do I need to go? Have I worn out my welcome?”

I can’t help feeling like it’s a test—not one he’s putting me to intentionally, but a test nonetheless.

Do I want to keep guarding Rae and myself to the point that even people who add light to our lives get turned away? Or do I want to see what happens when I give a little?

I can give a little and still keep my eyes open, can’t I? I can step out of my bubble and still watch my feet?

Surely.

Besides, Landon is a giver, too. I don’t consider him weak, but his ex-girlfriend and Kelle and everyone who added bricks to the wall I’ve been hiding behind are the real takers. People like them are the ones who spoil things and make life seem scary and dark, not people like Landon.

Truly, I thought I’d gotten out of that frightening darkness. It makes me angry to realize maybe I hadn’t after all.

I tune back in to the here and now so I can answer Landon—and I notice that in addition to his nervousness, he’s looking at me with the same sort of longing from earlier. It’s a strange thing. It’s not a desirous type of longing, but rather like…I don’t know…like he wishes I would just let myself relax.

Can I do it?

If I said I didn’t want to try, I would be lying.

I clasp my hands together and finally answer him: “No, you don’t have to go.”

Surprise flits across his face, telling me that despite his wish for such an answer from me, he didn’t actually expect it.

I feel bad about it. Did he really think I would boot him out so soon after his heartbreaking update about Lolly?

Well, I’m not going to.

As I remember him saying work was bad today, I request more quietly, “Tell me about the rest of your day?”

His surprised expression gives way to one of weary gratitude.

Instead of questioning my response, he just nods and says, “Yeah, okay.”

He picks up where he left off earlier, with going to work. Tells me about Bill Kinley not being in town to work like he normally would on a Friday, and about half of the registers being out of service, and about the employee who quit over the phone instead of coming in this morning. He talks about the wild patrons who brought nothing but chaos into the bar, about the two others who got into a fight and ended up socking him in the face, about how he had to work through all but one of his breaks. All while dealing with the despair of his disastrous visit to Lolly.

“And I had the absolute worst headache until—” abruptly, he gives me a funny look, “—well, until just a few minutes ago, actually.”

I nod. “I’m sure sitting down and getting away from a lot of noise was helpful.” After a beat: “Maybe telling me about Lolly helped some, too.”

He nods, too, reflectively. “Probably.” Dropping his eyes from mine, he admits in a softer voice, “It was kind of killing me.”

I only have time to feel a wave of compassion for him before his stomach growls incredibly loudly.

He and I exchange wide-eyed looks—and then, for the first time in days, we share a laugh.

It hits me hard that I’ve missed it more than I thought I would.

“Whew,” he says on a sigh, “I’ve just remembered I haven’t eaten in forever. I guess I wasn’t all that hungry until now.”

“Guess I’m magical,” I joke. “I can get rid of headaches and restore appetites during the course of a conversation.”

He actually grins as he shoots me a finger-gun. “You’re so right.”

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