But this is life, the ugly side to the pretty side. The unwashed hair and rumpled sheets and half-empty water glasses. I want Oliver to know everything I’m going through, inside and out.
I want him to know me. To love me for who I am.
More than that, I want him to believe that he’s good enough. Unfortunately, I can’t make that last thing happen. It’s up to him. I’ve shown my hand, laid out every card I have, and the next move is his.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Oliver
Parking on the street in front of Devin’s house, I rush out of the car as quickly as I dare, given the slippery ice and snow. My heart races, my thoughts even faster. Devin wants to see me. She misses me.
Leaving her at the resort was one of the dumbest decisions of my life, tied only with breaking up with her five years ago. If she’ll have me back, I’ll never make such an idiotic mistake again. I’ll?—
“Hey.”
It’s Maya, sitting on Devin’s front porch. Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice her there.
She gets up and walks through the porch light’s glow, stopping at the top step. I stay on the walkway, a lump in my throat. The cold air burns in my lungs.
“Hey,” I croak.
It’s the first time we’ve ever spoken, but I’ve seen pictures of her and spotted her from a distance in town. Every time I see oneof Devin’s friends, I can’t help but wonder what they think of me. Do they hold the same opinion as Devin’s mom and sister?
I brace myself, ready for a lecture that I fully deserve.
“She’s in the bedroom.” Maya nods at the house behind her. “We all came over to help her get comfy.”
“Is she okay?”
“As well as she can be while flaring.” She pauses, and in that pause I hear everything she’s not saying—the nights Devin has suffered, the times she’s needed support. “I like you, Oliver. You’re cool.”
I don’t know what to say, so I just laugh. She doesn’t even know me.
“Devin has told me a lot about your history… and I can tell that you’re a good guy. I’m happy she has you.”
I blink at her, more shocked than anything else. “She… You… are?”
Maya nods. “I’d like to get to know you better. If you’re going to be in Devin’s life, you’re going to be in mine.” Her smile is easy and friendly. “And all the chronic pain crafters’,” she adds with a playful eye roll.
I grin. “That doesn’t sound bad at all. I’d welcome that. I might even like to learn how to knit.”
“Be careful.” She walks down the steps, her boots finding purchase on each one. “It’s addictive.”
She hands me a sticky note with a number on it. The ink is slightly smudged, like she wrote it in a hurry. “Call me if you two need anything. Or if you have any questions.”
Warmth rushes through me, and I realize how off the mark my assumptions about her were. She’s the opposite of judgmental. It sounds like she’s been rooting for me and Devin all along. “Thank you,” I say, meaning it wholeheartedly.
“You’re welcome. The door is open.” She walks past me, the salt on the walkway crunching beneath her feet. “Really, text or call if you need anything.”
“I will. Get home safe.”
Taking a deep breath, I open the door and step into the house.
The familiar smells of Devin’s home—vanilla candles and old wood—make my stomach twist in longing. It’s almost hard to believe that I’m here, back at her place. I haven’t completely blown my chances with her after all.
Leaving my boots at the door, I step softly through the house. The floorboards creak under my socked feet. “Hello?”
There’s no answer, though her bedroom door is open. Creeping up to it, I lean against the doorframe. She’s on her side in bed, turned away from me. The blankets are pulled up to her shoulders. Realizing I’m here, she slowly rolls over.
