Chapter 51
Fable
“I’m fine, Harleigh. Seriously.” I sighed, shoving our laptops into their cases.
We’d spent the entire day camped out in my living room, editing social media posts, curating content for the bulls, and finalizing a full marketing plan for the month. It had been a productive day, but as the evening stretched on, exhaustion hit.
Harleigh arched a brow. “How’s the therapist?”
I paused, my hands stilling over my laptop case.
I’d taken an extended lunch to meet with my therapist, something I’d been forcing myself to do.
Talking about my OCD, about the spirals and compulsions that had ruled my life for so long, felt like peeling back layers of skin.
In therapy, I’d admitted something I hadn’t even let myself fully process before.
“I fucked up with Beau,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.
Harleigh’s expression softened. “I know, Fabs.”
I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat thick with regret.
“I told my therapist everything. About the panic attacks, the hospital, how I shut down and ran away. She said it’s .
. . normal for someone like me. That avoidance is a way of coping.
That I’ve been trying to protect myself for so long that I don’t know how to let someone in when things get hard. ”
Harleigh nodded slowly, giving me the space to keep going.
“He saw the surface of it, but he doesn’t know how deep it runs.” I let out a bitter laugh. “I was so scared he’d see me as broken that I ended up proving myself right by pushing him away.”
Harleigh reached out and squeezed my knee. “You don’t have to be perfect to be loved, Fable.”
I let her words settle, but deep down, I wasn’t sure I believed them.
Because if that were true, then why did losing Beau feel like the most inevitable thing in the world?
Harleigh stood, stretching her arms over her head before grabbing her things. “Alright, I’m heading out. But if you need anything—literally anything—I’m down the road, okay?”
I nodded, giving her a small smile. “Thanks, Harls.”
She gave me a knowing look before stepping out, closing the door behind her.
The moment I was alone, the silence crept in like a shadow. My body felt heavy as I dropped onto the couch, my mind already screaming at me.
Wash your hands. You touched the laptop, the table, the couch. You’ve been working all day. Germs, germs, germs—
I clenched my fists, pressing them into my thighs.
No. Not this time.
I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to breathe through the thoughts.
It was a nap. I needed sleep.
The exhaustion won.
The next thing I knew, I was jolted awake by the sound of someone pounding on my front door.
I shot upright, my heart racing, my pulse roaring in my ears. The room was dark, save for the soft glow of the kitchen night-light, and I struggled to pull myself out of the haze of sleep.
Bang.
I scrambled off the couch, my breath coming fast and shallow as I crept toward the door.
Who the hell was knocking at this hour?