She’d never explicitly asked herself the question before; she’d been too busy instinctively fearing the answer. But now, with her brother’s arm like an anchor around her shoulders, she felt safe enough to forget her memories of a different time and a different man, and recall her memories of Will.

Will, who’d snuck her and Jase home from their first drunken party and held Abbie’s hair back while she threw up. Will, who could spend Christmas in Cabo with billionaires but instead came home every year to play with cats he was allergic to. Will, who’d asked her about their first, terrible kiss two years after the fact and told her it was okay even after he learned that she’d essentially used him for a taste of sunshine and replied—

“That is the best thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Those didn’t sound like the words of a man who needed someone to be fixed.

Abbie had trust issues and Abbie was anxious and Abbie’s natural neuroses had been magnified tenfold by her worst fucking nightmares coming true, so maybe she’d never stop waiting for the worst to happen. Maybe a tiny piece of her would always expect the sky to fall. But when she closed her eyes and looked past the stomach-curdling panic and the I-should-have-seen-this-coming shame, she realised that even in her worst imaginings, Will wasn’t the one crushing her. He was the one standing beside her, holding her hand.

Fuck. When she opened her eyes, they felt a little teary. Jase politely pretended not to notice.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Feeling nauseous,” she replied dryly, and he smiled because he knew the real answer was yes. “You really love me,” she told him.

“It would seem so,” was his solemn reply.

“And because you love me, you don’t mind if I’m not perfect.” That followed, since she felt the same. And when Abbie set aside the fears she’d allowed to rule her, it also followed that … “I bet Will could really love me too.” Those words were whispered, because wishes didn’t come true if you told the world.

Telling Jase didn’t count.

He stared at her for a moment with a little frown on his face, but that frown soon dissolved into an odd smile. “Er, yeah,” he said. “Maybe Will could love you.” He cleared his throat. “Probably, in my opinion. You should ask him and find out.”

Abbie groaned. “Except I’ve already told him a thousand times that I’m not interested and we can’t do this and—”

“Oh, I see. So if you go up there now and tell him you’ve changed your mind, he’ll say, Sorry, you missed the bus, I’ve had an enormous change of heart since last night and cannot possibly want a woman who hesitates.”

Abbie bit her lip.