Fear whispered that I’d never be able to stack up. Fear reminded me he had a separate home to bring his one-night stands. Fear screamed in my face that I wouldn’t be enough to keep a man like Carter interested. Fear told me to run, to leave before he could hurt me. Fear is a funny, fickle thing. It’s there to protect you, to keep you from getting hurt, tells you to back up before it’s too late. But it weighs you down, keeping you from moving forward, like feet stuck in mud. And more often than not? You get hurt anyway. Sometimes, like today, you hurt the person you care about in the process
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