The Plus One (A Brush With Love, #3)

by Mazey Eddings

You’re put into impossible situations and all you can do is your best.”

he couldn’t do that to her. He was feeling far too much around Indira for that to be safe. He’d only hurt her.

have trouble remembering that I’m not there when a noise surprises me.”

Like I said, this is all overwhelming, but being around you, it seems to help.”

“You know me, always looking to serve those in need.”

You show up for an hour, maybe two, and you have no other responsibility in the world than to focus on yourself. Your feelings. Your thoughts.

requires you to be brave. It’s one of the most radical forms of self-love.”

If he’d ever trust her enough to let her in, no matter how much she wanted to help him.

words from last night whispered across her mind. I feel really useless.

“You just had it out for me,” Jude said, all puppy-dog eyes and innocent lilt to his voice. “Never gave me a chance.”

“You might not necessarily be nice, but I’ve always known you were kind.”

“The wedding symbolizes a new beginning, the blooming of the next chapter of love.”

“You’re like a human shield from sensory overload.”

Indira glanced at Jude and found him staring right at her, intensity in his dark eyes as he studied her face. That look made her feel far too seen. Far too exposed.

No matter how hard she tried, how much work she put into letting those feelings go, that anger, that hurt, always welled up in her, endlessly deep and shockingly toxic.

“I want to help you,” he whispered. “Can you tell me how?”

He hated when she cried.

I don’t know why I can’t find that closure.

I wish I didn’t care. Why can’t I stop caring?”

“Caring is kind of your thing,”

you cared about everyone. Everything. I imagine it’s hard to stop something that’s your nature.”

I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all and … yeah. It’s a lot. I don’t mean to emotionally dump on you like this.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re allowed to tell me—anyone—when you’re upset. You don’t have to pretend to be okay.”

“When did … this … compassion happen?

“Trust me, I’m as horrified at this expression of feelings as you are. You bring out the worst in me.”

I want being me to be enough.”

you are perfectly enough, exactly as you are.”

developed these thoughts that maybe if I had been a better daughter or done something different or … been enough, none of this would have happened.”

I started seeking that approval wherever I could get

maybe then it would prove that I am enough and I’m worth sticking around for.”

recognize that these fears and this need for extrinsic validation doesn’t determine my worth. But it doesn’t stop me from feeling it.”

Indira could reason through her feelings and their source and how they didn’t serve her, but she also couldn’t stop the ruminating circles of feeling them.

Healing from those internal wounds takes time. Sometimes a lifetime. But it’s the willingness to work on it that matters.”

there was something undeniably safe about being around her.

He’d known her for so long, she was a natural anchor for him when the world started tipping.

want you. I need you. I already miss you.

“Thank you for coming. Thank you for … for being willing to help me.”

while the circumstances around it were shitty beyond belief, the actual ending of the relationship didn’t feel like that much of a surprise.

physical intimacy wasn’t a huge thing for us.”

all the greatest conversations happened in silence. Discoveries, breakthroughs, puzzle pieces snapping into place, all occurred when two people let themselves think in comfortable quietness.

seemed like Jude needed all the silence he could get, and Indira wasn’t going to take that from him.

Indira lay down on her back, looking up at the stars dotting t...

She hid herself in a fragile shell that eventually turned into endless broken pieces.

“Missing is such a painful emotion,”

Everything touched me. Every feeling hit me with an overwhelming force. I’m sure you remember how sensitive I was as a kid and teenager.”

She turned her head to look at Jude, and he was staring at her like she was the center of the world.

A weekly space to pour her heart out. To fall apart. To have someone listen.

How hard she pretended to be okay. She was sick of pretending.

kids—who felt everything too. Or nothing at all.

Because feelings matter. They’re chemicals mixing with experiences and some deep, unknown part of a human soul.