I huff a laugh. “For the most part.”
“I’m sorry about how this all turned out. I was never a fan of your father’s, but… I’m sorry,” Mr. Donovan says.
I just nod. He’s the least to blame.
Morgan puts a hand on my knee. “But is everything okay between you all now, at least?”
I hesitate for a moment, feeling their eyes on me. The weight of their gaze makes me fidget with the hem of my shirt. “I thought it was. They apologized, and I was sure we were fine, but…” I trail off, struggling to find the right words. “When I got home, I felt this strange sense of distrust. Somehow, it all came rushing back. I hate myself for it, but I don’t know how to shake it.”
Did I really just say this out loud? I sound crazy.
Mr. Donovan nods sagely, his weathered hand reaching out to pat mine. “Trust is earned, Amelia. Forgiving something is the first step toward trusting again, but that doesn’t mean everything immediately goes back to how it was…” He pauses, his eyes kind but serious. “It’s normal to feel this way, but you need to tell the boys what you’re feeling. Give them time and a chance to earn that trust back. They’ve earned your forgiveness. Now they need to earn your trust.”
“Isn’t it unfair of me? Telling them it’s forgiven only to turn around and be wary again?” I ask, barely above a whisper.
Mr. Donovan squeezes my hand, his gaze unwavering. “It’s not, as long as you don’t pull away. They might not fully grasp the depth of your hurt, but if you speak to them honestly, they will start to see it. Sometimes, people need to hear the raw truth to truly understand the impact of their actions. And remember, Amelia, trust isn’t just about them proving themselves to you. It’s also about you feeling safe enough to let your guard down. It’s a two-way street.”
“You’re probably right,” I admit, feeling a small weight lift off my chest.
I didn’t ruin everything.
Morgan chuckles, her eyes twinkling. “He always is.”
The smile that blooms on Mr. Donovan’s face warms my heart. But the moment is interrupted by a series of buzzes from my phone. I glance down to see messages flooding our group chat.
Grey
Where are you?
Misha
What grumpy here wants to say is we wanted to take you to a late lunch.
Or early dinner.
Linner?
Dunch?
Oliver
We wanted to get food, but you’re not home.
Misha
You okay?
I bite my lip, conflicted. I’m not really ready to go back to normal, but I promised myself I wouldn’t ghost any of them again, especially Grey. Taking a deep breath, I type out a response:
I’m over at Mr. Donovan’s, and we’re eating cake with Morgan. We can grab lunch tomorrow at work if you want?
Misha
Of course we want.
Oliver
Excited to see you soon. Enjoy.
