Page 112 of Most Likely to Fear Love

“Yeah.” She ran her fingers through her hair, blowing out a breath. “And then there was the whole, ‘I’ll handle the bills, you just give me your half and I’ll keep track. I wasn’t even allowed to see bank statements.”

The memories clawed at the edges of my mind. “He did the same thing to me. Said it was easier if one person managed everything and he didn’t want me worrying about it. Itsoundedsupportive and sweet, but, no.”

Michelle’s expression tightened. “Exactly. He made it sound like he was doing me a favor. But now I see it for what it was. It was all about control for him. And don’t even get me started on the way he’d suddenly have ‘business trips’ anytime there was something important, like the girls’ recitals or family gatherings. And heaven forbid you should dare to question him about it. About anything. As soon as I started asking for clarification, or reassurance, he’d blow up.Don’t you trust me? And then I’d be the one apologizing.”

My stomach churned. “He did that to me too. I’d planned this big dinner to celebrate passing the bar, and he vanished the day before, claiming a last-minute emergency.”

“Always emergencies,” Michelle said bitterly. “Looking back, it was so obvious. But at the time...”

“At the time, you don’t want to believe the worst about someone you love.”

Michelle nodded again, her face softening. “Exactly. You convince yourself it’s just quirks or bad timing. But it’s more than that. It’s patterns. And those patterns are hard to unsee once you know what you’re looking for.”

I stared into the fire. “It’s scary to think about how much we didn’t see.”

“But we did see it, if you think about it. We just didn’t know what it meant. Now we do. We know better, so we can do better. And if a guy wants to date me, he has to be an open book. If he balks at that, even in the smallest way, I’m not interested. Them’s the rules.”

“I admire that, I’m not gonna lie.”

Michelle didn’t reply for moment, so I kept my gaze on the flames. Until the silence dragged out long enough that I flicked her a glance. She was watching me closely, which made me squirm. “Okay, you need a come to Jesus talk and I am just the person to give it to you, so here goes. I’ll preface this by saying I think I’m quite drunk, but I mean every word. You are far too young, and far too gorgeous, to bury yourself in this pain for the rest of your life.” Suddenly, she shoved to her feet, swaying a little as the wine hit her. “Added to that, if you do that, Brian wins. That fuckstick wins! And I won’t stand for it!”

She jabbed her finger toward me, her hand shaking just a little. “Do you hear me? That fuckstick doesn’t get to do that to you. Not to either of us. Please, Cassidy. Don’t let him win. Gettherapy, as much as you need. Fuck, I’ll even pay for it! But don’t let him make you too afraid to love again.”

Silent tears slipped down my cheeks, almost without me noticing. “Okay,” was all I could think to say, my voice trembling like a thread caught in the wind.

My mind went immediately to Harle, because of course it did. I could see him so clearly. Standing by the lake, the sun catching the gold in his hair, his quiet strength like an anchor in the chaos of my thoughts. I thought of the way his hands cradled my face, as though I was something precious, something worth fighting for.

The ache in my chest tightened, but alongside it, there was the faintest flicker of something else. Hope. Yes, it was terrifying to think about letting someone in again, to give them the power to hurt me. But Michelle was right. If I didn’t try, Brian would win. And Harle... Harle deserved more than the broken pieces of me. He deserved someone who would fight for him.

I wiped at my cheeks, my resolve hardening. “You’re right, Michelle. He doesn’t get to win.”

CASSIDY

The morning sun glared through the windshield, making my pounding head throb even more. I’d had way too much wine at Michelle’s to drive home, so I’d crashed in her spare room. We’d had coffee and plain toast for breakfast, and I’d left soon after. But I guess I’d made a friend for life in Michelle, because we’d already planned to catch up again.

I adjusted the visor and tightened my grip on the steering wheel, trying to focus on the road ahead. But my thoughts were louder than the hum of the engine.

Harle.

Michelle’s words rang in my ears:Don’t be afraid to love again.

Easy for her to say. She’d taken the leap, let herself trust someone new. But me? I wasn’t sure I had that kind of bravery in me. And yet… the thought of never seeing Harle again hurt worse than anything I’d been running from.

I turned onto my street, my house coming into view. And then I froze.

Every single one of my friends was crowded on my veranda, looking like they were about to stage an intervention.

Well, shit.

They all watched as I pulled into the drive. Stepping out of the car, I squinted against the sun, ignoring the queasy churn in my stomach. “What’s going on?”

“You haven’t answered your phone or replied to any of our texts,” Hannah said, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “We were about to send out a search party.”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry.” I fumbled for my purse where my phone lay dead and forgotten. “I was...” The words dried up in my throat. How exactly do you casually mention you spent the night bonding with your ex-husband’s other wife?

“Inside,” I managed, waving toward the house. “Coffee first. Then I’ll tell you everything.”

“Everything?” Emily’s brows shot up as I moved by her, unlocking the front door and pushing it open.

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