My eye twitched as her meaning hit me. “Okay so I’m probably in love with Preston.”
“There’s no probably about it.” She leaned closer and rested her head on my shoulder. “You are. And it’s probably terrifying to you because when you love someone, you are giving them your heart and hoping they take care of it. It’s a gamble, and you’ve been burned so many times. But Preston? He’s the best gamble you can take.”
My heart aggressively pounded to the point it actually hurt. I placed a hand on my chest, taking a few deep breaths to calm down as the truth weighed over me. Yes, I loved him. Yes, I was terrified. “I’m…what if he decides I’m too much?”
“Jordan Vanderfleet. You are exactly as you’re supposed to be, and I don’t know how to get that through your head. You are not too much, and quite frankly, I’m gonna need you to stopsaying it.” Logan stood up, hands on her hips, and her eyes widened. “I wish you saw yourself how the people who love you see you. No one can really help you with it besides yourself. My sister adores you. My parents view you as a third child. Preston has seen you at your worst, best, and everything in between. I have no idea why he’d even think about moving out, but he told me he wasn’t. Trust me, that man would rather hurt himself than you. I know that with every fiber of my being.”
“He wants to get married and have kids some day. I don’t.”
“Oh. Did you talk about that with him? Did he ask you?” Logan’s tone rose. “Stop finding excuses. You know what? Tomorrow morning, we’re calling therapists. You need to work through your own thoughts, and it’s gonna be hard.” Logan stepped toward me and placed both hands on my shoulders, her tone softening. “You deserve all the happiness and love in the entire world. It’s our job, mine and Preston’s, to hold you up when you’re struggling, and we will, but you gotta meet us halfway and work on yourself.”
I nodded.
Logan was right. Despite the instinct to argue with her, she spoke the truth and was the only person in the world who truly had never hurt me. The tears spilled over my cheeks, and I quickly wiped them with my sleeve. “I feel so stupid.”
“Why?”
“I always felt like a burden to everyone around me, and even though you mean the words you say, I still feel so high-maintenance and ashamed you have to deal with me. You’re right though. I’ll look for therapy to work on these spiraling thoughts. I can’t… I can’t have you and Preston carrying my burdens.”
“You are never a burden to me, and I know I can’t do much else but remind you of that all the time.” Logan pulled me into a hug, squeezing hard, and I wrapped my arms around her, the comfort and love and safety overwhelming me. I’d always heardof people choosing their own family, and Logan was the embodiment of all that. “I love you, you pain in the ass.”
I snorted, full-on crying now. “I love you too.”
“Let me get the air mattress set up. We should sleep and then tomorrow, you have two calls to make.” She arched a brow, daring me to argue.
“I know, I know.”
“Good. Because all this self-doubt you have right now? Preston is probably feeling the same thing. He’s hurting too.”
That gutted me. I hated picturing him being sad at all, even if it was justified. Logan was right though. Before I spoke to him, I had to start the process of healing for myself.
I wokeup feeling like a truck hit me, but there was a blip of hope somewhere in the wreckage. I actually slept hard—probably from exhaustion—but I had purpose, a plan. I loved plans and to-do lists, a map of what to do. I bolted up from bed, finding a list of numbers and names on a Post-it note left from Logan.
Love you, make the call. Then come eat.
To make the call, I’d have to turn my phone on. That meant seeing whatever Preston sent me. With a deep inhale, I powered on my phone, and it went berserk with messages.
Preston, his brother, Quentin… I gulped, maybe not quite ready to read them yet. I ignored them and dialed the first number.
It took a good thirty minutes and six calls, but I had an intake appointment set up in four days, and from there, they’d schedule out whatever they thought was needed.
It was weird how proud I was that I did it. I made the appointment, and instead of feeling horrible about it, I felt great.My mom always said therapy was stupid and for those with weak minds, but she was wrong.
Knowing you needed help and asking for it was pretty damn brave. I was choosing myself, choosing to navigate and deal with the feelings that made me self-sabotage, and the first person I wanted to tell?
Preston fucking Charming.
Two things were clear after sleeping. One—I loved him. I always had, but this forceful, overwhelming, would-kill-for-him feeling snuck in some time and buried itself so deep it was in my DNA. The second thing was that it didn’t matter where he was moving. I was following him.
Plain and simple, I didn’t want to live without him. If that was too much or too aggressive, then he’d just have to deal with it. Damn. It felt good to have direction. I piled my hair in a messy bun, changed into a different pair of yoga pants and one of Logan’s old sweatshirts, and made my way upstairs.
It smelled like eggs, bacon, and pancakes—a Hart family staple—and I grinned as I pushed the basement door open. “Are the pancakes in shapes again?” I asked but stilled when I spotted Preston at the kitchen table.
He jumped up, the chair making an awkward scraping sound on the tile floor. He gripped the back of his neck, his gaze wide and worried. “Jordan, hi. Hey.”
“Where is Logan’s family?” I whispered. My mind kept repeatinghe’s here, he’s here, he’s here.My pulse raced. My fingers twitched. I wanted to run to him and climb him like a tree, beg him to let me move with him, apologize, and demand he love me forever. All the thoughts fought for dominance, leaving me awkward and asking about the Harts instead.
He flushed and ran a hand over his face. “I convinced, no begged them to make a doughnut run.”
