Page 40 of Most Likely to Fear Love

“I’m fine,” I lied, sniffling pathetically.

“You don’t sound fine, so I’m going to go ahead and assume there’s no luck this month, either.”

“You would be assuming correctly.” Hiccup.

“Stay put. I’m coming over.”

“You don’t have to?—”

The line went dead before I could finish the sentence. Under any other circumstances, that would have made me smile, but not today. Instead, I lay down on my side, pulling my knees up and hugging the pillow as I let the tears flow.

He must have been in the neighborhood, because it wasn’t long before I heard the rumble of Harle’s truck pulling into my driveway, but I couldn’t muster the energy to move. The cushionwas damp against my face, and I knew I must look a mess. But I was too far gone to care.

The front door opened without a knock. Harle’s heavy footsteps echoed through the house, heading straight for me. I squeezed my eyes shut, not ready to face him or his kindness.

The couch dipped as he sat down next to me. A warm, calloused hand rested on my shoulder.

“Oh, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle.

I curled tighter into myself, fresh tears leaking out. “I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I can’t seem to get my shit together.”

“You’re allowed to lose your shit.”

God, why did he have to be so sweet? I sniffled, finally turning my head to look at him. Harle’s blue eyes were filled with concern, his brow furrowed. He looked like he wanted to gather me up in his arms, but was holding himself back.

“It’s never going to happen, is it?” I whispered, voicing my deepest fear.

Harle’s expression softened. “I don’t know the answer to that. But I do know something.”

“What’s that?”

“There’s a really great bar in Plymouth, that sells killer buffalo wings. Half price on Fridays. How about you wash up and we head over there? Blow off some steam?”

I blinked at him, his suggestion slowly sinking in through the fog of my misery. “A bar? Harle, I’m a mess. I can barely keep it together right now.”

“That’s exactly why you need this. Sitting here alone isn’t helping, darlin’. And I happen to know for a fact that buffalo sauce is scientifically proven to be impossible to eat while crying.

Part of me wanted to burrow deeper into my couch and never come out. But another part, a tiny voice in the back of my head, whispered that maybe he was right.

The alternative was sitting here alone, watching true crime documentaries and spiraling into an internet rabbit hole about fertility statistics. Yeah, no. Maybe what I needed right now wasn’t to wallow in my misery, but to remember that life went on despite disappointments. I glanced around my living room, the quiet suddenly suffocating.

Even the awkwardness of being around Harle after… everything… had to be better than drowning in my own thoughts. It was a chance to forget about my failures for a few hours and just be normal.

My voice was still a bit shaky when I said, “You know what? That sounds great.”

The smile Harle gave me had my heartbeat skittering. “Yeah?”

I nodded, pushing myself up from the couch. My legs felt a bit wobbly, but I managed to stand. “Just give me a few minutes to clean up. I probably look like a raccoon right now.”

Harle chuckled. “A very cute raccoon.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “What’s the dress code for this place?”

“Your jeans and a nice top will be fine,” Harle assured me. “It’s pretty casual.”

Thank fuck. I definitely didn’t have the energy for anything fancy. “Perfect. I’ll be right back.”

As I headed to the bathroom to freshen up, I felt a spark of excitement. Maybe this was exactly what I needed.

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