Page 53 of A Place Like You

“Drake,” she whispers my name, and for a moment, there’s a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

But then reality crashes down on me, and I feel like I’ve just failed my family and fucked up my life all over again. Of course, she can’t trust me. I’m just some asshole who might leave the way Milo’s dad did. I told her that I’m not different from him, and now she’s faced with the very real possibility of history repeating itself.

The urge to pull her close and give her one last kiss before I leave is almost overwhelming, but I know it’s not the right thing to do. So instead, I salute her, my heart heavy with regret and longing. “I understand. If you think we can’t continue working together, let me know,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

She nods, and I can see the pain in her eyes as she tries to hold back her emotions. I turn around, forcing myself to walk away even though it feels like I’m leaving a piece of my heart and my hope behind.

As I walk out of her house, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve made a huge mistake. Maybe I should have kept my feelings to myself, played it safe, and not risked everything for a chance at love.

But then again, if I never took a chance, I would have never known what could have been. And as much as it hurts now, I know that I would have regretted it even more if I hadn’t tried.

I glance back, and I mumble, “Please don’t let me go.” But it’s an empty plea because deep down, I can’t escape the nagging feeling that maybe we Thorndales are destined never to love, that our family is cursed when it comes to matters of the heart.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Wren

I stare at the closed door, my mind spinning with a whirlwind of emotions. My heart continues beating erratically, unable to calm down after Drake’s unexpected confession. He told me his name and . . . he’s falling in love with me.

Gazing at the flowers he sent me, I close my eyes, trying to remind myself what happens with men like him. Men don’t give two shits about the women they claim to love. Men who think we’re objects to use. Men who . . .

Brighton used to call them Daddy issues, warning me that some men didn’t care about the women they claimed to love, using them as objects for their own pleasure. On her deathbed, she urged me to be safe, especially for the sake of Milo. For the past eight weeks, I’ve been trying to move on from the pain of the past and protecting myself from getting hurt again.

But Drake’s vulnerability and the pain in his eyes make me question if he’s different. Could he be the exception to the rule? Is it possible that not every man is like the ones I’ve encountered before?

Unable to shake these thoughts, I pick up my phone and call Finn, hoping to get some clarity.

“Yeah?” he asks on the other side of the line.

“What’s going to happen with the Kershaw family once they’re out of the Endor program?” I inquire. “They have to leave, right?”

He scoffs. “So, the doctor talked to you tonight, huh?”

“You knew?” I let out a gasp, unable to contain my surprise.

“Yeah, but it’s obvious that he’s in love with you,” he states matter-of-factly. “He’s doing everything he can for Milo and you. Who do you think paid for your trip to New York so Milo could go to The American Museum of Natural History?”

“I . . . why would he do that?” My confusion deepens, and I wonder if maybe, just maybe, Drake’s feelings are genuine.

“Because believe it or not, he loves the two of you and wants to see you happy,” he states.

“He had another family and is trying—”

“Fuck, don’t do that, Wren. No one is replacing anything or anyone,” Finn’s voice cuts in, his irritation palpable even through the phone. “Listen, I know you’ve had a shitty life, but not every man you meet is an asshole. Plus, this guy is really trying to become who you need—and the person you can fall in love with. It’s not my place to tell you this, but the guy has been attending therapy for weeks.”

“Why is he doing that?”

“I told him to fix his shit before he tried to make a move.”

“And when he’s out of the Endor program?” I circle back to my original question.

“You two will have to decide what to do with your future. The question isn’t what happens tomorrow, but what are you going to do today?”

“I can’t trust him.”

Finn sighs heavily on the other side of the phone. “You don’t want to trust him. If you’d like, I have an extensive directory of therapists who’ll help you with your underlying issues.”

My mind races as Finn’s words sink in. Underlying issues? Maybe he’s right. I’ve never taken the time to work on myself. When my sister died, I focused on everything and everyone but my own mental state.

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