Just as I’m drifting off, the car stops. Time to go into the meeting.
My limbs heavy, I drag my feet across the sidewalk. Each step requires conscious thought. Flick, Alexis, and Hannah are already there, visible through Knit Happens’ front window. When Maya and I walk through the door—the bell chiming—I don’t even have to force a smile. It comes naturally. It’s that good to see my friends.
“Here.” Hannah straightens up from where she’s arrangingcolorful cushions on the floor. “I made you a spot to lie down on. Got the good cushions from the back room.”
“Thank you,” I say in relief. This is why I came, even though I don’t feel well. I need to be around people who get me.
I nearly collapse on the cushions. My friends fret over me for a bit—Flick brings peppermint tea, Alexis adjusts pillows, Hannah spreads a lavender-scented blanket over my legs. After insisting for the third time that I’m cozy, everyone settles into their places.
“Let me know at any time if you want to go home.” Maya is already crocheting something that might be an octopus. “I mean it. Any time.”
“I’m good. Thank you. Really.”
“How was your date?” Hannah’s fingers fly through complicated cables. Then she freezes, pressing her lips together hard. “Oh shit. I mean?—”
“You had a date?” Alexis whoops, nearly dropping her needles. “Spill! Everything!”
Hannah cringes and mouths “sorry” at me.
“It’s okay,” I tell her, then take a breath that makes my ribs protest. “It was with Oliver.”
The room goes quiet. Alexis’s brow furrows. “Your ex, Oliver? Hockey player Oliver?”
“Wow,” Flick says, not looking up but her tone dripping judgment. “Must be slim pickings out there.”
Their responses aren’t surprising. All they know about Oliver is what I’ve told them of our past, and none of it is good. The judgement, making me feel small, the games that always came first, the way he’d shut down instead of talking. I never told them about the coffee exactly how I liked it, the notes on my windshield, how he made me laugh until my sides hurt.
I tell the story to the best of my fatigue-brained ability. Running into each other at the pizzeria weeks ago—how he looked different, softer. Showing up at the clinic with donuts,the banana bread at the rink. The game last night, meeting for drinks to celebrate last night’s win. My kissing him then fleeing. I expect hurt about keeping this secret, but if they feel it, it takes a back seat to other concerns.
“People do change…” The ‘but’is evident in Flick’s voice. “Is it possible you’re going back to Oliver because he’s familiar? Like comfort food? And that’s why you panicked—because your gut knows this isn’t right?”
I start to answer, realize I don’t know what to say, and close my mouth hard. Shit. Is that possible?
Alexis looks equally worried. “This sounds stressful as hell.”
“It is,” I sigh.
“Look.” She puts down her knitting entirely and leans forward. “From where I’m sitting, this is heading straight for on-again, off-again territory. The kind where you never know if you’re together or broken up or what. Do you really need that right now?”
“No.” My heart cracks a little.
The last seven months have been an uphill climb. Learning which medications work, which foods trigger flares, how much activity is too much. I’ve restructured my hours at work, added breaks, and those changes come with costs. My staff has their own lives, their own limits. I’m afraid I’m already pushing everyone to their breaking point, all in an effort to sustain my dreams.
I lower my eyes to the blanket. What my friends are saying lands hard. What if Alexis is right? What if this relationship, with all its history and baggage, is the thing that finally tips me over? Maybe deep down I already knew that, and it’s why I panicked. Maybe my body was protecting me from something my heart wasn’t ready to see.
“Devin knows Oliver,” Hannah suddenly says, her voice cutting through my spiral. “If she thinks he’s worth another chance, then I trust her judgment. She’s not naive or desperate.”
Alexis’s skepticism is written all over her face. Flick suddenly finds her stitch count fascinating. Maya offers me a comforting smile tinged with concern. I’m even more confused than before.
“Thank you,” I tell Hannah, still not sure which road I’ll choose.
Things have never been simple with Oliver. From the beginning—him traveling, me buried in textbooks, both building demanding careers. While I want to take a chance on him, believe in the changes I’ve seen, I might not have the strength left. My reserves are already depleted. Even if we start dating, will I ever feel safe? Will I ever not be holding my breath, waiting for him to choose hockey over me again, even though he’s retired? Waiting for him to shut down when things get hard?
I don’t know, but I also can’t sit on this decision forever. I need to make a choice before life makes the choice for me.
Chapter Eighteen
Oliver
