And I still brought it up in the way most designed to hurt him, to put distance between us.
Because he’s right.
I love him.
I just…can’t ignore the knot in my stomach, the knowledge that this isn’t going to work out like he’s planned.
It can’t be that simple.
Itcan’t.
But I also can’t tell him no, not when he’s so damned earnest, not when he’s baring his heart. Not when he’s making so much sense. And he’s Brooks. The man who I trusted, befriended, loved…
Five years ago.
And—
“Dammit,” I whisper, rolling over to my other side. He’s right. I never stopped.
So I did the only thing I could.
Put a wall between us, widened that gulf.
Protected myself.
And now it’s the middle of the night and I’m staring up at the ceiling and I’m trying to ignore the need nipping at my heels, telling me to get out of bed, to believe in him, in us.
To live for today because tomorrow may not be guaranteed.
So why don’t I?
“Because I’m scared,” I say, flopping to my back.
My life is a series of long, interminable straight roads followed by sharp, blind turns.
You’d think I’d be used to it—those sudden changes.
But I’m not.
I roll to my other side, sigh.
I’m scared.
Ugh.
I survived the last years—hell, I survived the childhood I had and now I’m scared of getting my heart broken again?
No. Well, yes. But also…I’m scared of Brooks getting hurt.
And Chrissy. And Pascal. And Jace. And the others.
I flop onto my back and groan.
Then I scrub my hands over my face and I know it’s pointless to continue thinking in these endless circles. I need to do something—and that something isn’t continuing to spin myself into a tizzy.
“Right,” I whisper, sitting up and tossing the blankets to the side. “I need a plan.”
So, I’ll get the flash drive. Give it to Brooks and explain what I was doing the night of the fundraiser. He’ll pass it on to the others.
