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I laugh until my lungs hurt.
“I like it when you laugh like that,” he says in that quiet, shy voice of his.
A rush of warmth flows through my body, spreading all the way to my toes.
“But I like it even more knowing I’m the reason behind it.”
Forget a rush of warmth. Julian’s words are like an inferno,obliterating whatever ice I had left to protect my heart.
I become fascinated by the window. “When you say things like that…”
“What?” he asks after a few moments of silence.
“It makes me feelthingsI shouldn’t.”
“According to whom?” His question comes out sharper than a blade directed at my chest.
“Me.”
“Because you’re afraid?”
“Because I’m amess.”
He focuses on the road, giving me a side view of his jaw clenching. “You’re many things, but a mess isn’t one of them.”
My eyes drop to my lap. “I’ve only just started feeling like myself again.” After fighting my way out of a mental fog, I don’t want to sink back into that black hole.
Julian stays quiet, which emboldens me.
“I’ve been taking the right steps to get better. Therapy. Antidepressants. Exploring who I am post-breakup while forgiving the person I was before it.”
His grip on the steering wheel tightens. “And how is that going?”
“I’m finally happy.” I take a deep breath. “So freaking happy but also terrified that the feeling might disappear again, and then I’ll be sucked back into that dark place.”
“It could happen. You could slip back into another depression, and that isn’t something you can control.”
“I know.” I fidget with my hands.
He reaches over and interlocks our fingers. “But that doesn’t mean you have to go through that kind of feeling byyourself anymore.” His hand squeezes mine.
“I’m afraid to depend on people.”
“Your issue isn’t depending on people but rather finding therightpeople to depend on.”
It takes me a good minute to wrap my head around that one. “Did everyone see what I was clearly missing?”
“No, although I wish I had.” His hold on my hand loosens, so I tighten my grip to stop him from slipping away.
“You wouldn’t have known regardless.” Keeping up false pretenses was a craft I honed over the years, making sure no one could see through the mask I held in place to shield my anxiety, insecurities, and relationship issues.
“Maybe, maybe not. But I regret not owning up to my actions and trying to reconnect with you.”
No amount of deep breathing will save me from the ache in my chest. “We both need to let go of our regrets if we plan on moving forward.”
It takes him a full minute to say anything. “I can do that.”
“Do you think…” I bite down on my cheek.
