Page 63 of Wildflowers & Whiskey

“And that's exactly why I need you to listen to what I'm going to say next.”

I nod once.

“You are one of the best people I've met since coming here,” she continues. “You've made this place feel safe. You've made me laugh when I've wanted to cry. You've become one of my favourite people.”

Hope sparks again.

“But I don't feel that way about you.”

And then it dies, again.

“Why not?” My voice is sharp and quick.

“Because I'm leaving in a few months,” she says gently. “If I wasn't leaving...” she continues carefully, “I still don't think I'd want this, Colt. Not because there's anything wrong with you. There isn't. But because you're my friend, and I don't want to lose that.”

My brain wants to reject the answer immediately. This can’t be happening.

The world narrows, and I'm still rocking, the movement doing its best to soothe me, but failing.

Not because there’s anything wrong with you. That’s what people say when there is. I know, because everything is wrong with me. That’s why people leave me or ignore me.

It’s just more rejection. Another person who doesn’t want me. Unlovable. Unwanted.

Too much.

Too intense.

Too needy.

Maeve's still talking, but the words blur together beneath the roar in my head.

Another person leaving.

Another person choosing something else.

Another person who doesn't want me.

Then there’s warmth on my arms.

Maeve has positioned herself on her knees in front of me, her face level with mine.

“Colt.”

Warm hands wrap around my forearms, not tight but firm enough to steady me. I finally stop rocking.

“Hey. Look at me.”

I can't.

“Please.”

Her plea cuts through my inner monologue. All of a sudden, I can hear her clearly again, telling me to breathe. “Breathe for me, ok? In… and out,” she repeats as I follow her instructions.

The tightness in my chest begins to loosen.

“There you go,” she says softly. “Keep going. You’re ok. I’ve got you.”

The feeling of her hands against my arms centres me. I don’t want her to let go.