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I don’t deserve to be your secret.

I don’t deserve to be labeled as just the ‘best friend you’re in love with.’

Hannah snuggles closer, her soft breath comforting, but all I can think about is what she said, far too wise for an almost six-year-old.

She’s absolutely right. I haven’t been trying hard enough.

If I don’t figure out how to fix this—really fix it—I’m going to lose him.

For good this time.

Chapter forty-three

I’m halfway through folding a stack of kid’s graphic tees when my phone buzzes against the counter, pulling me from my thoughts. I ignore it at first, focusing on the shirt in my hands that I’ve been trying to fold for the last half hour.

It’s black, a pink Care Bear in the middle riding on a rainbow, small enough to be loose on Hannah, but big enough that she could grow into it for the next year or so. I bet she would have loved this shirt. We could have gotten matching ones.

I don’t normally wear rainbow shit, but I would for her.

My phone buzzes again, interrupting the music playing through the Bluetooth speakers. And again. And again.

“Dude,” Kelly, my coworker, pops her head out of the fitting rooms, bright green hair shining under the fluorescents. “You’ve got, like, five texts in the last minute. Someone’s obsessed with you.”

Rolling my eyes, I grab my phone off the counter, not surprised to see Salem blowing me up. Rebel Threads closes in an hour, and it’s my turn to bring home dinner. My roommate is the worst when she’s hungry.

Salem:

You need to see this.

Right now.

Xed, I swear if you don’t watch this, I’m showing up at your job.

“Jesus,” I mutter, pulling up the video she sent me twenty minutes ago.

It’s from a news site, captioned: “Matthew Albrecht just dropped the LOVE BOMB of the century.”

My stomach twists. Matty’s name alone is enough to throw me off, but a love bomb? What the hell does that even mean?

Glancing around the store, I check to make sure Kelly is still sorting returns. There’s no customers around. I should be getting ready for closing, but…

Fuck it. I disconnect from the Bluetooth, and tap the link.

The video starts with Matty, standing in front of a wall of reporters, his helmet tucked under one arm. His jersey is filthy, but somehow he still looks amazing, that crooked grin making my chest ache.

I shouldn’t be watching this. I should put the phone down, walk away, catch a train to another country. He’s not mine, and I’m not his.

But then he takes a deep breath, the kind that makes his chest rise and fall like he’s bracing for impact. And then he speaks.

“I wasn’t planning to do this,” he starts, sounding nervous. “But sometimes life doesn’t give you a choice. Sometimes you’ve gotta say the things you’ve been too scared to say, because if you don’t… you might never get another chance.”

He pauses, licking his lips before continuing. “There’s someone I’ve loved for years. And I’ve spent so much time trying to convince myself it didn’t matter, that I didn’t deserve his love, that he was better off without me. But the truth is, he’s a part of me and he matters just as much.”

The room spins as I sway on my feet, and I reach out to grip the counter to keep from crashing to my knees.

Matty’s eyes flick toward the camera, and for a second, it feels like he’s looking right at me. “Xed, if you’re watching this, I need you to know… I’m done running. I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids, and I’ll keep loving you until the day I die.”

His voice cracks on the last word, and he lets out a shaky laugh, glancing down for a moment before looking up. “I just hope I’m not too late.”