Page 68 of Game on, Love

“But what about doing what your heart wants?”

“My heart lost its right to make any decisions a long time ago.”

“Does that make you happy?”

“It doesn’t make me cry.”

I gripped her hand gently, feeling her shiver under my hold. I hated how much her past held so much power that it was taking away her chance of living in the present, and I hated how helpless it made me feel in the moment.

“What can I do to help?”

She banged her softly on the backrest, her shoulder sagging. “That is a loaded question.”

“I never said it had to be a simple answer.”

She closed her eyes, and even though a knot in my chest formed at what I was about to ask, I asked anyway. “Do you want me to take a step back?”

Her eyes shot open, and her head turned in my direction.

“Before you answer, let me preface. I don’t want to; I want toknowyou, but if you ask me, I will do it. All you have to do is say.”

“No,” She murmured softly. “I want toknowyou too. But I can’t help that my brain works like this.”

“And I understand that. But at the same time, I also want you to know you can come to me. It won’t be easy, and I don’t expect it to be.”

“That won’t do any good. I don’t want to upset you when I spiral.”

I frowned. “Do you think I’m upset now?”

She hesitated. “Maybe… I don’t know?”

“Well, I’m not,” I replied softly. “We are communicating, and there is nothing to be upset about. Just because your brain works differently from mine, that is no reason to be upset, and I’m sorry that the voice in your head is trying to convince you otherwise, but that’s my point. You are overthinking? I will over-explain. If saying something over and over again gives you a little peace, I will give it to you in a heartbeat.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Promises are meant to be broken. I’m giving you my word. And if that doesn’t mean much, let me prove to you that you can trust it.”

She pursed her lips, going over my words. For a minute, we sat like that. Our bodies faced each other, her hand still in mine as I brushed my thumb over the back of her hand.

Taking a final breath, she nodded, and finally, the knot in my chest loosened.

21

Oliver

THERE IS A QUIETinevitability to fate, a pull that one cannot resist no matter how hard one tries.

I had never believed in such a thing, at least not before I met her.

The gallery was dimly lit, and people scattered in groups as they took the paintings in front of them. I had never been a fan of something like this, but when Mum had told me she was in the city to visit the opening of a new gallery, trying to find a couple of pieces for her clients—I’d suggested going with her. With everything that had been going on, I hadn’t gone back home in a while and between taking care of Dad and her already packed schedule as she worked from home, the only time we caught up was on our weekly calls.

But, five minutes in, she ditched me after spotting her old clients. It didn’t surprise me one bit; it was just who she was. Ready to help whoever asked, and as they stood in the corner, her hands moved animatedly as the couple nodded, taking her words in, I saw exactly that.

My eyes scanned the room, giving up on trying to pretend I understood the meaning of the piece in front of me. I never got the meaning behind minimalist art. It was a splash of paint. No deeper meaning to it. But as my gaze landed on her, my heart raced, and the all too familiar tug told me it was Raina.

She was in a dark blue dress that framed her perfectly, her hair open, and it was like she felt it too because one second she was focused on the painting in front of her, watching with an intensity I’d grown used to recognising in her and the next, she straightened up and glanced in my direction.

We shared our living space and saw each other almost every day, and yet, each time we crossed paths, it felt like it was more than just a coincidence. There was no denying that from the moment I saw her, I’d been attracted to her and had been doing everything possible to know her, but it’s moments like these that I couldn’t help but ask myself if the pull I felt was more than just chance, and the times where I felt like I was made for her were more than just my thoughts, but something that was written in something beyond either of us could imagine.