Page 35 of Far from Destined

“You’ve never actually met her,” I added.

“True, but she makes you smile. And growl. And she frustrates you to no end because you have no idea what you feel. It’s like Marni and me. It doesn’t happen often. But when it does, it’s fucking perfect.”

“I don’t know, Jeremy. It’s not that easy.”

“Nothing worthwhile ever is.”

“I hate that saying,” I said.

“I know. That’s why I say it often. Because it’s true.”

“Okay, let’s get ready for the day,” I growled.

“Let’s do that. And then you can tell me exactly how it’s going between you and Dakota.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t pry,” I added dryly.

“I lied.”

I shook my head as my friend walked away, laughing.

Jeremy was an asshole most of the time. He and Marni had gone through a rough spot about a year ago, and I’d almost thought we would have to close the practice because of it. I hadn’t liked working with him then. He’d made things very difficult.

But now, Jeremy was no longer drinking, and he and Marni had fixed their relationship and even saw a therapist who worked out of the same practice as mine.

They had worked things out and had both apologized to me, and things were going great.

I was happy about that. I had missed the man I’d started this business with, and now we had a practice we loved, and Jeremy was good at what he did. I just needed to figure outmypersonal life.

And, apparently, decide if Dakota would be part of that.

I was exhaustedby the end of the day. I knew it was because I hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before.

I might not have noticed when I passed out with Dakota, but it had been late enough that I knew I didn’t get enough sleep.

I made it home after work, my neck aching, and my phone quiet. Dakota hadn’t even messaged. We sometimes texted, more often than not recently because we were trying this whole friend thing. But I figured I’d scared her away a bit today. Now I would have to figure out what to do about it.

Someone slammed a car door as I got out and headed into my house. I froze, my body breaking out in a cold sweat.

I fisted my hands at my sides, took two deep breaths, and made my way into the house, practically falling to my feet. I pulled out my phone and found my therapist’s number.

“Macon. How can I help?”

“I need to talk.”

“I’m here. I’m listening.”

I didn’t say anything for a while, bile filling my mouth.

Then I spoke, just to find my words. To find a way to breathe and make it through this. Maybe Dakota was right, and this wouldn’t work. Perhaps I would hurt them in the end. I wasn’t together enough to figure out my shit. I didn’t need to involve anyone else.

The idea that I might walk away hurt. Only, I might need to.

Dakota had her own problems to worry about, and I didn’t want to make it worse.

As I looked down at my fisted hands, at the pallor of my skin, I knew I might be dangerous to her life.

Even if neither of us planned on it.