Page 48 of Mine to Fear
Kieran smiled then, the first real smile I saw from him in weeks. “What did he say?”
“That I was using his death as an excuse to be scared. That I was pushing away the best thing that ever happened to me because I was afraid of losing it.” I moved around his desk, needing to be closer. “That he was waiting for us to stop being idiots and admit we belonged together.”
“Smart man, your brother.”
“The smartest. And he wanted me to tell you something.”
“What’s that?”
“That you didn’t fail him. That was the best way to honor his memory: to make me happy.” I reached for his hands, needingthe contact I denied myself for weeks. “And to let me make you happy too.”
He stood up then, his hands coming up to frame my face with infinite gentleness. “I thought I lost you. These past three weeks, I thought you were going to disappear rather than risk caring about someone who might leave.”
“I almost did. I was so scared of losing you that I was willing to throw away what we had just to avoid the possibility of pain.”
“And now?”
“Now I think my brother would come back from the dead to kick my ass if I let fear win.” I leaned into his touch, feeling anchored for the first time in weeks. “Now I think love is worth the risk. You’re worth the risk.”
“Even knowing that loving someone means accepting the possibility of losing them?”
“Especially knowing that. Because the alternative is losing them anyway, just more slowly and with more regret.”
He kissed me then, soft and careful and full of three weeks’ worth of worry and relief. When we broke apart, I rested my forehead against his.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “For pushing you away. For saying those horrible things. For making you think you were just an obligation.”
“You were grieving. People say things when they’re in pain.”
“That’s not an excuse. You deserved better than that.”
“I deserved exactly what you were able to give at the time. No more, no less.”
That was when I knew, with absolute certainty, that Jude was right. This man—patient, understanding, willing to love me even when I was at my worst—was worth every risk.
“I love you,” I said, the words coming easily for the first time since we’d gotten the news about Jude. “I’m done running from that. I’m done pretending it’s not true.”
“I love you too. I’ve loved you through your grief, through your anger, through every wall you’ve built to keep me out. And I’ll keep loving you through whatever comes next.”
“Even if what comes next is messy? Even if I’m not done grieving, not done being scared sometimes?”
“Especially then. That’s what love is, Willa. It’s choosing someone not just for their best moments, but for all their moments.”
I kissed him again, deeper this time, pouring everything I was too afraid to feel into that connection. When we finally separated, both of us breathing hard, I smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks.
“So what happens now?” I asked.
“Now we build something beautiful together. Something that honors what we’ve lost without being defined by it.”
“And if I get scared again? If the grief comes back?”
“Then we handle it together. No more guest rooms, no more pushing each other away. We face whatever comes as a team.”
I nodded, feeling something settle in my chest that might have been peace. “Jude would have liked that.”
“I think he would have. I think he’s probably laughing at how long it took us to figure it out.”
“Probably planning to haunt us if we screw it up.”
