Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Her words pierce through my armor, and the sting of unshed tears prickle the corners of my eyes. “Maybe,” I say, still not meeting her gaze.
Willa studies me carefully. “You’re protecting yourself,” she says after a pause, her voice calm but pointed. “And I get that. But sometimes, protecting yourself means you miss out on something worth the risk.”
I exhale slowly, my fingers stilling on the napkin. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?” Mazzy presses. “What are you afraid of?”
I hesitate, my gaze flickering to the window beside us. Outside, the city is alive with glowing streetlights and the faint blur of passing cars. It’s a world that keeps moving, no matter how stuck I feel.
I glance between them, the two women who have somehow become more than just friends. They’ve become confidants, a safe harbor I didn’t know I needed. “I’m afraid of getting hurt, of course. And I guess it is just that simple.”
Mazzy smiles, a knowing look in her eyes. “It’s never easy. But the best things in life never are.”
The waitress returns, her timing almost comical, breaking the heavy moment with her bright, cheerful energy. “How’s everything tasting so far?” she asks, her notepad in hand as she glances at our half-empty plates.
“Great, thanks,” Willa says. “Could we get another round?”
“Of course,” the waitress chirps, scribbling it down before glancing at me.
As the waitress bustles away, Mazzy takes a sip of her wine, her gaze never leaving mine. “I know it’s scary but you’ve got us. Whatever happens, we’re here for you.”
For the first time in a long time, I feel a flicker of something I’ve almost forgotten how to recognize: hope.
“So,” I ask hesitantly, my voice barely audible over the din of the bar, “what’s it like? Being in love, I mean.”
Mazzy and Willa exchange a look, their expressions softening. It’s not pity but understanding, and for some reason that’s even harder to face.
“It’s not perfect,” Willa says after a moment, her tone thoughtful. “But it’s worth it. Love isn’t about never having problems—it’s about facing them together.”
Mazzy nods, her fingers playing idly with the stem of her wineglass. “For me, it’s about feeling seen. Foster knows me better than anyone, and he loves all of me. Even the parts I don’t always love myself.”
Their words stir something deep and unfamiliar. I take a sip of my wine, hoping the warmth of it will calm the strange ache blooming within me. “But how do you trust it?” I ask hesitantly. “How do you know it’s real?”
“You don’t always know,” Willa admits, her gaze steady and kind. “Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith. But if it’s the right person, they’ll catch you.”
Mazzy reaches across the table, placing her hand over mine. “And if you fall, you’ll get back up. But you have to give yourself a chance to fall, Farren.”
I swallow hard, unable to look at either of them for fear they’ll see too much. My thumb brushes over the rim of my glass as I consider what they’ve said. A chance to fall. It sounds simple, but the weight of it feels like a mountain pressing down on me.
“I hear you,” I whisper.
Mazzy squeezes my hand gently before letting go. “That’s a start.”
The check arrives, and Willa insists on covering it, brushing off our protests with a wave of her hand. “It’s my treat,” she says firmly. “You two have been my sanity more times than I can count. Let me do this.”
As we step outside, the cool night air wraps around us like a gentle embrace. The streets are quiet, the soft glow of streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement. We all ordered Ubers since we’d been drinking.
“You know,” Mazzy says, turning to me with a playful grin, “I think North’s good for you. He’s steady, but not boring. Confident, but not cocky. And from what I’ve seen, he’s crazy about you.”
I roll my eyes, though my cheeks flush at her words. The warmth of their support settles in me like a small flame. “You two are relentless. Give it a rest.”
“We’re also right,” Mazzy says with a wink. “And we’re never going to let up, so get used to it.”
I’m still not sure about that, but I’m willing to consider it. Besides, North is doing the same exact thing to me. And somehow, I’m still hanging around.
CHAPTER 22
Farren
The engine of North’s truck rumbles as I pull into the underground garage of the arena. The automatic arm lifts when I approach, the decal on his windshield granting me access. Driving this beast has been a learning curve, but I have to admit, I’m getting the hang of it. This morning as I was driving North to the arena, I took a corner too tight and nearly clipped a parked car. I thought he might have a stroke, but I assured him I knew exactly where that car was the entire time. He was dubious but in the end, he gave me unfettered access to his truck today, which shows a level of trust in me I’m not quite sure I fully deserve. Regardless, after running errands all morning while he’s been at practice, I handle it like a pro—well, almost.