Page 139 of Run to Me

My stomach dips when I ask, “And if she doesn’t choose me?”

With a sympathetic smile, she says, “You call me, and we’ll talk about it,” but I catch her unspoken message. Don’t lose your shit.

Back in Walford after my appointment, I’m walking into the rear entrance of Bruno’s an hour before the bar opens for the day. Charlie waves from behind the bar where he’s marking off tasks from the opening checklist. Javi’s in the kitchen prepping food, so I pop in to relieve him and let him know he doesn’t need to stick around tonight.

At the sight of him, I stop short, and the swinging door nearly hits me in the face on the rebound. “Are you wearing a dress?”

Slicing tomatoes at the prep counter, he glances down at the blue garment with white stitching along the hems. “It’s a long tunic.”

“My mistake. The matching pants threw me off.” When he carries on with his slicing, unbothered by my comments, I add, “Is this like a messiah complex thing or…”

He huffs in annoyance, and I bite back a smile because he’s not as chill as he pretends to be. “I like to be comfortable. Plus, this outfit’s made from recycled materials. It’s earth friendly.”

“He also has it in ecru.”

I jump when Trevor’s voice startles me. He’s on the bench in front of the employees’ cubbies with a laptop perched on his knees.

“What are you doing here?” I ask with more bark than intended. Then I take in his blue plaid shirt and matching shorts paired with brown loafers. Who dresses my friends?

His gaze remains on his laptop when he says, “Clearly, I’m working.”

Before I complete my eye roll, Javi asks, “How was your appointment?”

Arms crossed over my chest, I lean against the prep counter. I’ve been open with the guys about my therapy and the goals I’ve set. Along with Jake, Tatum, and our other friends, these two have supported me every step of the way.

I rub a palm across my beard and say, “Good. I’m making progress.”

“You’re nervous,” Trevor suggests, and he is not fucking wrong.

Every minute ticking closer to midnight—to tomorrow—my nerves become more frenetic. I’m not sure if I should go to Maisy or if she’ll come to me. Hell, she may have moved on. I’m in the dark where her intentions are concerned, but I intend to look her in the eye, apologize, and right my wrongs.

Javi’s eagle-eyed stare bores into me like he’s counting the smallest vessels in my organs. “What’s your fear?”

Ah, the new question those closest to me ask when I show any signs of anxiousness. As I’ve discovered in therapy, I have a shitload of fears. The major phobias are fear of change and fear of disappointing others, but I also fear the people I love will be injured or killed in an accident.

It only took half a session with Dr. Sims to identify the roots of that particular phobia. The seed was planted when Maisy’s bicycle was hit by a car, and it grew exponentially after my parents’ fatal crash and Logan’s accidental death, which I witnessed and felt responsible for. Still do. Overcoming my guilt regarding Logan will take a long time, if I succeed at all.

A host of other fears keep my brain on high alert, so I try to be honest and put a word to what I’m afraid of, similar to the “one word” approach Maisy made up when we were teens.

Without knowing, she uncovered a coping method that allows me to narrow my mind’s focus to a single word, which calms me down. And I love her even more for having good instincts, a fact Dr. Sims validated. I’ve always claimed Maisy rescued me when I was spiraling. Turns out, she did.

In response to Javi’s question about my current fear, I say, “Abandonment.”

He and Trevor stop what they’re doing and gather around me, and Javi grasps my shoulder. “Since you only have half a day left of the no-contact period, I’ll cheat a little and say you have nothing to worry about.”

My gaze pings between them. “Do you think so?”

“We know,” Trevor says with an awkward, light punch to my chest. He’s not a touchy guy.

“Trust us,” Javi adds. “We’re absolutely certain.”

With a relieved exhale, I say, “Thanks, guys.”

Sensing Javi’s about to propose a group hug, Trevor takes a step backward, removing himself from the huddle.

Javi embraces me and whispers, “You’ve got this. You’ve got her.”

I pound a fist on his back. “I’m glad I have you as a friend, man. Thank you for everything.”