Then Diane walked into my life and ruined all of that.
She didn’t save me. She didn’t fix me. She didn’t demand I be different.
She stayed.
She saw the worst parts of me. The closed-off parts, the stubborn parts, and the scared parts … and stayed anyway.
Loving her didn’t erase my loss.
It made it worth carrying.
I feel my throat tighten.
You think loving someone makes the loss harder in the end.
You’re right.
It does.
But I would rather live with sharp pain than no feeling at all. I would rather risk heartbreak than wake up one day, realizing I spent my life avoiding joy because it scared me.
Avoidance isn’t peace, Colton.
I let out a shaky breath.
I watched you with Melissa.
You don’t look at her like a man passing time. You look at her like she’s someone who scares you because she matters.
You pull back when things get real. You disappear when emotions surface. You tell yourself it’s necessary. That it’s professional. That it’s safer.
It’s not.
You’re not protecting her.
You’re protecting yourself.
And in the process, you’re hurting both of you.
The words sting because they’re precise.
Frank always was.
I’m not telling you to promise her forever.
I’m not telling you to suddenly become someone you’re not.
I am telling you to stop running.
Stop pretending connection is optional. Stop convincing yourself that being alone makes you stronger.
It doesn’t.
It just makes you lonely.
And lonely men make poor decisions, even when they’re brilliant doctors.
A humorless huffescapes me.
