Page 113 of Seeds of Christmas
“Exactly. You survived it. You faced your fear and came out the other side. That deserves a celebration.” He stands up, pulling me with him. “Come on. My treat.”
Later,after eating at Dora’s Diner, we end up back at his apartment. Jake’s at the fraternity house, so it’s just us.
I’m curled up on his couch, still feeling the emotional hangover from the call, when Carter comes back from the kitchen with two mugs of tea.
“Earl Grey with too much honey. See, I remember,” he says, handing me one.
“You’re very good at this,” I observe.
“At what?”
“Taking care of people. Being present. Knowing what they need.”
He settles next to me, close enough that our shoulders touch. “I’m learning. Mostly from you.”
“From me?”
“You show up. Even when it’s scary. Even when it would be easier to run.” He’s looking at me with that expression that makes my heart squeeze. “You’re teaching me how to do that.”
We drink our tea in comfortable silence. Outside, it’s starting to snow again, fat flakes drifting past the window. The apartment is warm and quiet, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel the need to fill the silence with perfection.
“I’m glad you were there today,” I tell him. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“You absolutely could have. But I’m glad I got to be there anyway.”
I set my mug down and turn to face him fully. “I mean it, Carter. You make me feel like I can do hard things. Like I’m strong enough to face my fears.”
“You are strong enough. You always have been. You just forgot for a while.”
“Then you reminded me.”
“We reminded each other.”
I kiss him then, soft and slow and full of gratitude. When we pull apart, he’s smiling that smile that transforms his whole face.
“So,” he says. “Tomorrow’s therapy. The day after that, we need to finish the draft of the paper. And then?—”
“And then New Year’s Eve,” I finish. “Your frat house party.”
“Are you nervous?”
“A little. Meeting everyone, being in the house where your brother—” I pause. “Is that weird?”
“No. It’s not weird.” He pauses. “Actually, I think it’ll be good. Being there with you, talking about Dom with the guys, celebrating the year ending and the new one starting.” He squeezes my hand. “New beginnings.”
“New beginnings,” I echo.
And sitting there in his apartment, with the snow falling outside and the warmth of his hand in mine, I think about everything that’s changed. How a month ago I was too afraid to set a single boundary. How I was trapped in a relationship that made me small. How I thought love meant performing perfection.
Now I’m here. Imperfect. Messy. Still figuring it out.
But free.
And loved for exactly who I am.
“Thank you,” I whisper against his shoulder.
“For what?”
