A/N: I can't thank you all enough for the TFoL love. Your feedback means everything to me and to see some of you wish the writers did it/consider it canon means more than you know. (Also if you're from Soap Twitter, hello! I have seen your tweets and I'm incredibly grateful!)

Anyway, late-night insomnia and a love for Sabrina Carpenter's new album led me to come up with this short story. If you haven't listened to the album, I highly recommend it.

"There's nothing wrong with a little soul-searching."

Trina refused to look up. Dr. Kevin Collins sat across from her, his hands clasped together on the surface of his desk. Her hands were on her lap, resting lazily across her denim-clad thighs. She was adamant to not meet the man's eyes, praying deep down that her impulsive decision to meet with him wouldn't go further than the hour he made available.

"You told me on the phone that a lot of things have been bothering you."

"They have," her voice cracked as she responded.

"Where do you want to start?"

"I don't know."

"How about your family? How are things with your mother?"

Her face burned, her hands balling into fists. She winced at the word, still not looking up at Dr. Collins. His chair creaked as he leaned back, waiting for her to crack.

"Things could be better."

"What happened?"

"She kept secrets from me."

"What secrets?"

"The man that I thought was my dad…isn't."

"That's fairly heavy news. I'm sorry that was dropped on you."

"Me too."

"I take it you're angry with your mother?"

"Angry, disappointed, disgusted…a lot of things."

"We can unpack that if you'd like. This is a safe space; you're free to say what you need to. Nothing will leave this room."

"I know, but I really can't put it into words right now."

"Okay. We can move on to something else if you'd like."

"That would be nice."

"How are your friendships?"

"Those are okay."

"Just okay?"

Trina straightened in her seat, taking up the formal posture she held when she first sat down. Her mind jumped between Cameron and Josslyn, ruminating over all of the things she did with them, together and apart.

"Things with Cameron are pretty good."

"And Josslyn?"

She was quiet.

"Is there something wrong between you and Josslyn?"

"I mean, we've never talked about it much, so things seem fine. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't have issues."

"Can you describe them?"

"I haven't figured them out yet."

"What do you mean?"

"There's something off. I feel like there's something wrong, it's a feeling in my gut. But I can't figure out what it is, and I can't put it into words to make it make sense."

"I understand. It's something you have to sit with, it seems."

"Yeah."

"We can move on, then. Do you have a boyfriend?"

"I do."

"How are things with him?"

"Meh."

"What makes it 'meh?'"

"It's nice…but that's it."

"It's just nice?"

"Yeah, like there's no substance. He's friendly and responsible, good at his job, really cute-"

"He seems like a good guy."

"Right, and I have a love for him, but…I don't think the love is…romantic."

"Is the lack of substance why you feel that way?"

"...It's one of the reasons."

"What are the others?"

Trina completely ducked her head down, his fists clenched tight. She felt her cheeks burn again, stronger than the time before. Part of her wanted to put the thought in the back of her head.

Dr. Collins would understand, she thought, I should just come out with it. It won't leave the room, no one but him will know-

"Trina," Dr. Collins cleared his throat, "is there someone else in the relationship?"

With her head still down, her eyes shut tight, she nodded.

"Do you have feelings for someone else?" Another nod.

"Do you feel comfortable telling me who?"

"No," the words rushed out on impulse, the back of her head screaming at her to correct course, "I don't want to say it."

"Why not?"

"I can't."

"There has to be a different reason than 'just because.' And I think there is."

"If I say it," Trina looked up to meet his eyes, a firm sadness in her pupils, "then it'll be true. And I don't want it to be."

"But deep down, you know that it is."

"I don't want to."

"Hmm," Dr. Collins hummed, leaning forward, bracing his elbows on his desk, "I can tell you have a lot of resistance in talking things out, at least with other people."

"I'm sorry-"

"No, don't apologize. I understand: it can be hard talking to someone else about the things going on inside your head. I don't want you to feel pressured to confess everything to me, I'd be failing you as a result."

"So then, what do I do?"

"Well, you're always free to schedule another appointment with me when you feel ready to, and we can spend every hour breaking down those walls. Or…"

"Or what?"

"You take up journaling," Dr. Collins replied, "You take time to write out your thoughts, either to get them out of you or to have a discussion with yourself. It can go a long way to help you get the answers you need when it comes to your feelings on your mother, on Josslyn, and on this mystery man you're attracted to."

"So I should buy a journal."

"You could use a journal, you could use the Notes app on your phone, you can use a lot of things. However, I think for you, you should use email."

"Email?"

"Yes. Your conflict seems to be about things unsaid, rather than you just figuring things out. I recommend you open an email draft and type out everything you'd want to say to the subject."

"And then what?"

"That's your call," Dr. Collins got to his feet, walking towards the door, "You can keep them in your Drafts folder or delete them, but don't send them. That'll just cause more problems than you need."

"Are you sure that'll help?" Trina asked, approaching the door.

"Give it a shot," Dr. Collins smiled warmly, "Try to write an email to your mother over this secret she's kept from you. Get out everything you're feeling and all the words you want to say to her."

That night, Trina stared at her computer screen, the blank email draft staring back. She ignored Portia's greetings as she entered the beach house, making a beeline for her room and locking the door behind her when she reached her destination.

Come on, Trina thought, write something. Do what Dr. Collins told you to do.

She could hear her mother's voice on the other side, gentle knocking in between words. Trina bit her lip, resisting every urge to tell the woman off for bothering her. When the noise stopped, Trina straightened her back and placed her fingers on her keyboard, feeling the smooth metal against her fingertips.

I hope this works.