Star
T he school gymnasium is already buzzing with activity when we arrive. Fairy lights strung across the ceiling cast a warm glow over the room, and the smell of barbecue mingles with the hum of conversation and laughter.
Barrow places a hand on the small of my back as he guides me through the crowd, and the simple gesture sends a shiver down my spine.
“It’s a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?” he asks, leaning close so I can hear him over the noise.
I nod, clutching my purse tightly. Overwhelming is an understatement. This isn’t just a gym filled with people—it’s a gym filled with his colleagues, his friends, his world. I feel like an outsider crashing a private party.
“Hey,” he says softly, his hand still at my back. “You’re doing great.”
I glance up at him, surprised by the warmth in his voice. There’s no pity, no condescension — just reassurance.
A sensation that’s hard to place surges in my chest. It’s warm and solid, scented like a golden hearth fire burning away the winter chill.
It takes me a long moment to name it — gratitude. Safety. A gut-deep certainty that Barrow is exactly the man I’ve been hoping for, that I wasn’t sure even existed.
My vision swims with a moment — not with sadness, but with tears of joy. I swipe at my eyes with the back of my hand, hoping Barrow doesn’t notice. I’m not ready to explain myself, or my past.
Not yet.
But for the first time in more years than I can count, I have the feeling that he’s someone I’ll find myself confiding in before long.
I can’t wait.