Page 91 of Fumbled Into Love

“What I’m about to share with you can never leave this car.” Her eyes are sharp behind her glasses, and I reach my pinky out, offering herthe most sacred of oaths. I would never break her trust. Her pinky intertwines with mine, and the small smile she gives me knocks the air from my lungs.

“Pinky promise,” I say, letting the sincerity creep into the statement.

She nods, and instead of releasing my finger, she does something shocking: she intertwines our hands together. I start to fixate when she brings me back to reality.

“Declan grew up in foster care.” My heart stops beating in my chest. “He lived with an older couple until he was twelve, but the husband got sick, and they couldn’t foster anymore. They moved him to a group home. I know little of what his life was like in the group home, but I know he struggled. He didn’t do well in school and couldn’t make friends. Alan was his high school football coach, that’s who died. From what little I know about Alan, he was Declan’s father figure. He helped Declan get his grades up to be eligible to play football, and when Declan had his choice of schools, he chose Notre Dame because it was Alan’s favorite team.”

Tears cascade down Nathalie’s cheeks, and my free hand darts out to wipe them away. Her grip tightens around mine, and her breath is erratic.

“Breathe, baby.”

The endearment tumbles out, but she gulps down air and then continues.

“Besides his half-sister, who Declan has a complicated relationship with, Alan is—was—Declan’s only family.” More tears fall, and my heart twists in my chest at the sight. “He has no one else,” she admits, and her face crumbles. “We’re all he has now.Weare his family.”

For a split second, I assume she’s referring to her family, and only when she looks at me do I realize she’s including me, too. I’m a part of that family in some way or another.

The realization Iwantto be a part of that family,herfamily, makes it difficult to breathe.

I nod, any response lodged in my throat. Silently, she exits the car. As I reach her side, she takes my hand again, and my heart races in my chest, an irregular beat.

“We’re going to have to keep pretending,” she whispers, “that we’re dating.”

I nod again, not trusting myself to speak, but clutch her hand as we walk into her home.

Sawyer barrels through the door forty-five minutes later with Maren hot on her heels. They fly through the living room, trapping Declan between their bodies in a crushing, emotional hug.

“I love you, Declan,” Sawyer whispers.

“Love you,” Maren says, placing a kiss on Declan’s cheek.

Henry and Jack filter into the living room, and their eyes instantly meet mine. I subtly shake my head.

Since we’ve arrived, he’s barely spoken, nothing more than the few words Nathalie’s mom could pull out of him. I’ve sat on the couch, unsure of how I fit, while Nathalie’s siblings trade turns holding him, offering words of comfort. Nathalie flutters around the kitchen, helping her father cook, eyes darting to Declan. She offers a soft smile when our eyes meet, but anguish lingers behind those blue glasses. This is hurting her, too, knowing someone she loves is in pain.

I’ve never met anyone like her, and I rub the heavy feeling in my chest.

“We’re here for whatever you need,” Henry says, and Declan’s head drops onto Henry’s shoulders as he sobs. Henry holds him tightly, and once again, my axis tilts with understanding.

My old friends were…I can’t say with any confidence they would have shown up the way my friends are now, pausing their lives to make sure Declan is cared for. They could never be like my old friends, the same way Nathalie could never be like Savannah.

Jack holds Declan next, whispering soft words into his ear. I catch the end. “I know what it’s like to lose a parent, and I’m here for whatever you need.”

“Thank you,” Declan croaks, and Nathalie’s head darts up to check on Declan.

“Everyone, come eat,” Nathalie’s father says, and we all file into the dining room, squeezing into the space.

The room is overflowing with love and compassion, and I can barely breathe.

Is this what I’ve been denying myself for so long? Could I have had this if I wasn’t so afraid of being hurt again?

Nathalie slides into the chair next to mine, her fingers lacing through mine. “Thank you for being here,” she whispers. “I know things are weird with us, but—”

I cut her off.

“There’s nowhere else in the world I would want to be.” I pull at the friendship bracelet on her wrist, the one that matches mine. “We’re a team.”

“A team,” she confirms, leaning her head on my shoulder.

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