Blame It on the Tequila - Page 107

But one thing he was right about: I was a coward because I was the one running.

In the moment, it had filled me with an all too familiar feeling. The one where we only made it so far before falling apart. It’s like I’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop, and once it had, I gave in to the inevitability without trying to change anything.

So, I ran, never giving us a chance to figure it out together. I let the past dictate my future, and I hated it. It was like shining a light into the dark recesses of my mind, calling me out for not actually handling my trauma like I thought I had.

Seeing it there pissed me off. I wanted to rip it out and never let it back in again. I wanted to be strong, not a façade of strong waiting to crumble as soon as the past crept from the shadows.

I said I wanted to bungee jump, so dammit, I would bungee jump.

Which was why halfway through my drive, when I saw a sign, I veered off the road. Fate heard me, and even if it was only metaphorical, I needed to prove to myself that I could.

Because Parker Callahan said he loved me and, without a doubt, I knew I loved him too.

I loved him more than anything, including my fears.

I followed the signs and refused to back out.

I pushed past the racing heart as they strapped me into the harness. I focused on slowing my breath when they walked me to the edge. I closed my eyes and pulsed my sweaty fists open and closed, standing at the end of the platform. And when push came to shove, I opened my eyes and stared into the abyss.

My legs shook, but when I looked at the valley of trees and rocks, all I saw was Parker’s face asking me not to leave.

One more deep breath.

“I can do this.”

I jumped.

By the time I reached New York, I still hadn’t turned on my phone, leaving me unsure of how I’d be greeted. Not that it mattered. We stood by each other no matter what. So, with a deep breath, I knocked.

The door opened and—

“It’s about fucking time.” Rae propped one hand on the door and the other on her cocked hip, looking like a disapproving mama who wasn’t going to let me back inside until I explained.

But I couldn’t explain because, in the next second, I broke down in tears.

“Dammit,” she sighed. “You’re ruining my anger at you disappearing without an explanation.”

With that, she let go of the door and yanked me in her arms, squeezing me more tightly like she could strong-arm my soul back together. I clung to her and let her guide me inside to the couch, where she stroked my hair.

“You and Vera get one pass and one pass only. If you come crying to me again, I’ll be killing people. I’m not equipped with the emotions to handle my best friends hurting.”

I sniffed, wiping my tears, trying to get myself under control. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no. Don’t you dare apologize. I’m glad you finally came to me. I’ve been freaking waiting. Vera took two seconds before her ass was at my door, and here you are, making me wait two days.”

“Yeah,” I responded lamely. Another moment I was faced with my cowardice.

“Hey.” She dipped her head, trying to get me to meet her eyes. When I still hung my head, she gripped my cheeks and forced me to look. “It’s okay, Nova. If you need time, then you take it. As long as you know, we’re here, and let us know you’re safe.”

“I should have told you everything. I should have called. I didn’t mean to shut you out,” I admitted through a fresh wave of tears.

I didn’t mean to shut anyone out, but I couldn’t deny that maybe I’d been hiding more than I wanted to admit. Maybe I’d been controlling more than just what I shared with my art. All this time, I’d been fighting Aiken on showing my face because I wanted to stick with the brand I created, but really, I was just hiding—even from my friends.

“Ha. Girl, you cannot shut me out. I may be biding my time in the corner, but I’m in here,” she tapped my head. “And if you tried to make me leave, I’d laugh in your face, and Spartan kick the door down to get back in. You and Vera are my bitches, and you’ve accepted me. There’s no going back.”

Laughing both hurt and felt good at the same time, but at least I could still laugh.

“You just need to process it differently.”

I laid my hands over hers, where they held my cheeks and smiled through my tears. “Thank you.”

Tags: Fiona Cole Romance
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