“You’re scared.” Daisy’s words are an arrow, shooting straight and true. “You’re scared of loving someone and losing them. So you don’t let anyone get too close.”
I flinch at her accusation, at the bone-deep truth of it.
I have so many reasons for not being with Olivia. Good ones. Valid ones. But in the end, they are all an excuse because I’m scared to try for something real.
Scared to lose. Scared to love.
But I already fell in love with Olivia, I admit to myself. And I’ve already lost her.
“It’s simple. Do what makes you happy, dude,” Sebastian says.
“Happy, huh?” I rub my jaw.
I’m not sure about much of anything. But I know I’m most happy when I’m with Olivia.
CHAPTER 36
Olivia
It’s been two weeks since I got back to San Francisco. Two weeks since I first walked into my house again. The house looks like new. Thanks to Chase, the damage was repaired, as if the fire had never happened. Even the roof is fixed, the crumbling steps like new, the entire house gleaming with a fresh coat of paint inside and out.
I don’t know how he did it in such a short amount of time. It must have cost a fortune; one I can’t pay back. I should be mad that he took it upon himself. But every time I look at the house, all I feel is relief and a warmth that he cared enough about me to care for something that I love.
Luckily, I didn’t lose too many personal possessions in the fire since it was mostly confined to the upstairs bathroom and hallway. I did have to replace many of my clothes and buy a new mattress and comforter because I couldn’t remove the smoke smell. But at least I’m having fun playing with my style now, and I seem to be leaning more towards retro romance and away from goth homesteader.
Since I’ve been back from Malibu, so much has changed. Despite my heartbreak—or perhaps because of it—I have clarity. The distance gave me a renewed perspective on my life, and I didn’t like a lot of what I saw.
The last two weeks have been about making changes, subtle shifts of my life’s landscape. I turned down my friend’s offer to be a technical writer. Yes, it was a steady job I could use to keep up my house and ease the bills. But every time I thought of going to work for them, my heart contracted.
If I took a job like that, I’d likely give up on my dreams of being a published author. I also took a hard look at myself. Though I’ve spent the last eight years writing novels, I’ve never had the guts to try for publication, fearing rejection. If I didn’t try, no one could say no. Earlier today, I submitted my current manuscript to a list of agents. It’s scary but liberating to move forward.
I wish I could move forward from my broken heart as easily. I ache for Chase. It’s like walking around with a gaping hole in my chest, as if my heart is outside of me and I’ll never be complete without him.
Three days ago, I got my broken phone back. The tech guy performed a miracle and fixed it. And there on that little screen was Remington’s number and all our thousands of texts. I also read his increasingly upset messages from when I first ghosted him.
The first night back with my phone, I went to bed, reading over the years of messages. Reading them through a new lens. And what came through was just how much Remington—Chase—had needed me throughout all those years, just as I had needed him. Even while he was catapulting to movie stardom, he needed a friend as much as I did.
And then there’s Daisy. She arrived back from Los Angeles a few days ago, and now she’s in my living room.
“I swear, Olivia, I didn’t know.” Daisy leans toward me across the coffee table, her hands out, beseeching me.
I look at the smooth wood of the table and spread my hands out on it, anchoring myself with something that is solid, not the smoke-and-mirrors deception I’d unknowingly been part of.
“Do you believe me?” Daisy asks.
“I do,” I say with assurance. Daisy isn’t the type to keep a secret. If she’d known, I would have too.
“He should have told you the truth. I know that. But he’s scared,” Daisy says. “He pushes everyone who will love him away, myself included.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to defend him. I’m not mad. I’m just sad.”
“I want to explain. Did you know he got placed into a good family right before mine? He was there a year, and they promised they’d adopt him. But then the lady got pregnant, and they changed their minds about Chase. That’s when he ended up with us. Loss is all he’s ever known. Every person he’s ever loved has been taken from him. When I tried to kill myself, and he blamed himself, I think it made him terrified to try again. Sure, he gets all this so-called love thrown at him now, but it’s a selfish, twisted, obsessive kind of love. Everyone wants a piece of him, or they project an image of who they want him to be. But when he was—”