I swallowed, nodding, trying to find solace in his words. “I… I think I love him, Dad.”

My words broke at the end of the confession, tears blurring my eyes as I glanced up at my father who looked like I’d just fallen off a cliff right in front of his eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, and in a flash, he was up out of his side of the booth and dipping into mine.

He wrapped me up in a fierce hug, one I felt all the way to my bones as I clung to him and let myself cry.

“It’s okay to love him.”

“Even if he doesn’t love me back?”

“That’s the thing about love,” he said, kissing my hair. “It doesn’t need to be reciprocated to be real.”

I couldn’t be sure how long we sat there, Dad holding me while I fell apart in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant full of rowdy college students, but I savored every moment of that comfort he brought me.

And the next morning, I woke up with the same excruciating agony that had plagued me since Clay broke my heart. But this time, I didn’t surrender to it. I didn’t overanalyze every word he’d said to me, or replay all the moments we spent in my bed. I didn’t cling to the memory of his laugh, or how I could still close my eyes and feel his hands on my face, his lips on my lips.

This time, I got dressed.

I put on my shoes.

And one slow step at a time, I moved forward.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Giana

A week later, I waited on the bench outside Rum & Roasters, tucking my peacoat tight around me against the chilly breeze. It was a poor choice to wear my tights and skirt today, but I missed skirt season. I was tired of wearing sweaters and pants, and I wanted to break out the whiskers skirt.

For reasons I probably would never admit to anyone, myself included.

So, I rubbed my legs through the thin fabric to try to bring a little warmth, eyes scanning the students walking by for Shawn. As soon as he got here, we could dip inside the coffee shop so I could defrost.

I didn’t know exactly why I had felt the need to call him, to ask him to meet up — but something about coming clean about everything felt like it would give me a little closure. I certainly wasn’t going to get anything close to closure from Clay, so maybe this was my heart’s desperate attempt to take back some of the control that had been stolen from me.

My phone buzzed in my coat pocket, and I sighed at the text on it when I pulled it out.

Sorry, running a little late. Be there soon.

I thumbed out a reply, but before I could send it, someone’s shadow swept over me.