Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Story is my own.
Chapter 16
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For the first session, silence wrapped around us.
The room was dark mahogany, the couch I sat on fluffy and white.
Dr. Foreman had called me earlier that week. He'd set it up with a behavioral therapist, taking care of the scheduling himself. Fridays at 3 p.m., just like Seth's sessions. But, Edward would drive me.
Foreman explained that he'd spoken with the therapist beforehand, giving her a heads-up about my file. He'd made sure she was introduced to the subject matter, especially since some of it was heavy and difficult.
"She knows what she's getting into," Dr. Foreman had said. "But remember, it's still your choice whether you want to go."
He'd inadvertently talked me into this. I'm thinking, what's the worst that could happen? Plus, if Seth was doing it, I could as well. And now I was here, sitting in an office that felt too warm, too inviting—like it was trying too hard to be anything but what it was. A shrink's office.
I crossed my arms, sinking into the chair, trying to ignore how soft it was. Like if I got too comfortable, I might actually start talking.
The woman across from me—Dr. Rivera—was just watching, not clenching a notepad in her hands. Her skin was a warm caramel tone, and her eyes, a deep brown, seemed to always be observing—careful and attentive, as if she never missed a detail. She wore modest, yet professional clothing—a simple navy blouse and brown slacks—nothing too flashy, but her presence commanded calmness. There was a subtle warmth to her face, though it often seemed more thoughtful than friendly, as if she was always considering something just beyond the conversation. Her posture was impeccable, straight-backed, and composed, with a quiet authority that made it clear she'd heard it all before, but was still genuinely interested in what you had to say.
After a couple more minutes of quiet, she cleared her throat.
"You don't want to be here," she said finally. Her voice wasn't sharp, just… knowing.
A dry laugh slipped out before I could stop it. "What gave it away?"
She tilted her head slightly. "The way you're sitting like you're waiting to bolt. And the fact that Dr. Foreman had to convince you to come in the first place."
I exhaled sharply, shifting in my seat. "Yeah, well, he can be real persistent."
"He's good at what he does." She paused. "But I'd like to know—what do you want out of this?"
I blinked at her. The question shouldn't have caught me off guard, but it did. What did I want?
For Seth to be okay. For Edward to stay forever. For my mother's ghost to stop haunting me in ways I couldn't put into words.
But none of that was something she could fix.
"I don't know," I admitted, glancing away.
"That's okay," she said easily, like my answer was perfectly acceptable. "You don't have to have it all figured out yet. Sometimes, therapy isn't about fixing things right away. Sometimes, it's just about making sense of what's already there."
I swallowed hard, glancing at my knees, then flicking up to her. "That sounds exhausting."
Dr. Rivera gave a small, knowing smile. "It can be. But carrying everything alone is exhausting too, isn't it?"
I didn't answer. But the way my arms loosened slightly from around my middle told me she wasn't wrong.
A beat passed.
She clapped her hands together lightly, shifting the energy in the room. "Anything exciting happening?"
I pushed my hair back over my shoulder, thinking for a moment before smirking. "I'm gonna watch my brother walk the stage soon. Super happy about that."
The words were 100% true, but there was an uneasiness beneath them. I was proud of Seth—more than anything. But sitting here, potentially having to talk about the past, about things I'd spent precious time pushing down, made me feel like I was standing still while life kept moving forward without me.
I shifted uncomfortably. My skin prickling and jittering.
"Are you and your brother close?"
My eyes wouldn't stay steady as I answered. "We are. Things have just been different since—" My words faltered. I had to stop for a moment before continuing. "But when we were little, I was like a superhero to him."
She smirked. "And now?"
I hesitated, pressing my lips together before answering. "Now, I'm not sure if he still sees me that way."
Dr. Rivera studied me for a moment, then leaned forward slightly. "Maybe not in the exact same way. But superheroes aren't just all cracked up to being invincible, Leah. They're about showing up, even when things are hard."
Her words settled into me, unexpected but not unwelcome. I looked down at my hands, running my fingers along the hem of my sleeve.
"Yeah," I murmured, my voice quieter now. "I guess I have been showing up."
"Do you wanna talk about any of the times you have shown up for your brother?" She asked.
I thought for a long time about that. I mean, there were so many things recently that I could say. And, I'm not sure if it were the way Rivera looked at me, or how stillness gripped the room. But, I felt the need to challenge the doubt I had about doing this in the first place.
i wanted to be able to think about it, without feeling like my body is ripping apart. Anything having to do with her is painful.
"I remember my mom being institutionalized when I was maybe six or seven," I said, my throat felt raw as the words danced past my lips.
Dr. Rivera sat across from me, her expression expectant. "Would you like to expand on that?"
I hesitated, piecing together the timeline in my head. "A year or so after my brother was born… I think he was two at the time. We're five years apart, so I must've been seven already?"
She nodded, giving me space to continue.
"My mom used to drink a a lot after she had my brother. And pills… she'd take those, too," I murmured, running my thumb over the seam of my jeans. "Some nights, she'd go on these long rants, benders, talking to people who weren't even there. It felt like it would never end. And before long, the cops would show up, or my grandmother would swoop in to save us."
Dr. Rivera's voice was calm, careful. "And your father?"
I lifted my eyes to meet hers. "He worked a lot," I whispered. That was the easy answer. The truth was messier. He worked a lot because it was easier than coming home for a while. It did get better, I guess. Until my father passed.
She didn't press, but I felt the weight of her waiting.
"My brother knew to hide when she got like that. But one day… it got real bad." My throat tightened, my fingers curling into my palm. "She beat me so bad I couldn't sit for a whole week. School was… hard at that time."
Dr. Rivera didn't flinch, didn't react the way most people did when they heard something like that. She just listened.
"She kept asking me to tell her where my brother was hiding, but I refused to tell her," I said. Feeling myself almost space out. I could see the hospital walls if I thought hard enough…
I exhaled sharply, pushing past it. "Anyways," I said abruptly, as if I could shove the memory aside. "My dad took us to visit her there."
She tilted her head slightly. "How long was she there?"
"About a year, I think," I answered, uncertain. "We spent a Christmas without her. Seth and I were inseparable during that time."
There was a pause, a moment where neither of us spoke, and I felt the sheer absurdity of what I'd just said settle between us. Dr. Rivera let it sit, giving me time to decide whether I wanted to keep going.
I didn't.
Not yet.
Dr. Rivera remained quiet, absorbing my words without rushing to fill the silence. Her expression didn't shift—no pity, no shock—just steady understanding. It was unsettling how easily she held the space.
Finally, she spoke, her voice careful but unwavering. "That must have been confusing for you, being so young. Visiting her there, spending a Christmas without her… Did anyone explain what was happening to you?"
I swallowed hard, my shoulders tensing. I hadn't expected her to ask that, but of course, she would. That's what therapists did. I just wasn't sure how to answer.
She didn't push. "You don't have to answer that now," she said gently, like she already knew I wouldn't. "I just want you to know—there's no rush here, Leah. We'll go at your pace."
Her words wrapped around me, grounding yet incredibly uncomfortable. I wasn't totally used to this kind of patience with people, to someone waiting without demanding. It made me feel exposed, and I wasn't sure if I liked it.
I gnawed on my bottom lip.
Dr. Rivera let a few beats of silence pass before tilting her head slightly. "Do you have people in your life now who make you feel safe?"
I hesitated, then shrugged. "Yeah. I mean… my brother, obviously. A few others."
She nodded, as if expecting that answer. "Anyone in particular?"
I considered deflecting, but her gaze was steady, waiting. I exhaled through my nose, tucking strands of hair behind my ears. "There's… someone."
Dr. Rivera arched a brow, a glint of curiosity behind her professional demeanor. "Someone?"
I smirked slightly. "Edward…We're just getting to know each other." The words felt like a shield, a way to keep it from getting too deep. I could just call him my boyfriend, but then comes all the questions. We don't have labels, I'd requested that.
She didn't press, just nodded. "And how does he make you feel?"
Safe, I thought. But also something else—something bigger, something I felt so strongly about. Steeping in the feelings he makes me feel.
"Different," I admitted finally.
"Is this an intimate relationship?"
I nodded.
"It sounds like Edward provides—emotionally, physically? That must feel really good, especially with everything you've been through," she said softly, her voice gentle, almost like she was easing me into something.
I nodded, feeling a rush of warmth when I thought of him. "Yeah, he does. He makes things easier."
Dr. Rivera didn't rush to speak, just watched me carefully. I could tell she wasn't judging, but there was something about the way she was looking at me that made me want to squirm. After a beat, she asked, "But, with everything you've been through… do you ever feel like you're relying on him a little too much?"
The words made my brows furrow. My mind immediately went blank. I wasn't sure how to answer.
She didn't wait for me to come up with a response, continuing, "It's completely natural to feel elated around someone who gives you support after you've experienced so much hardship. But sometimes, when we rely too heavily on one person, it can create an imbalance. It might feel good in the moment, but it can also leave us vulnerable, especially if that person isn't always around or if they can't give us everything we need."
My stomach twisted, a slow, uncomfortable knot forming. I didn't want to admit it, but her words made sense. Edward had become my rock, but so what? Wasn't that how relationships worked? People leaned on each other. That wasn't a bad thing. And she doesn't really know. So I shouldn't take this too seriously. No?
Edward and I met at a sex club party. He paid money to sleep with me. It still felt shameful to admit it. Besides how we met, he is perfection.
I shifted in my chair, folding my arms over my chest. "I don't know… It just feels right when I'm with him. I don't feel so… lost." My voice was way quieter now, but not uncertain. I knew I was strong on my own. I had to be.
Dr. Rivera nodded, her expression soft but unreadable. "I'm not saying Edward isn't good for you. I just want you to think about how we can build strength within you, too—not just rely on him to provide that for you." She let the words rest between us. "Do you think that's something we could explore together?"
I huffed, shaking my head. "I'm not weak. I've taken care of myself, of Seth, for years. I've worked my ass off. I didn't need Edward to survive." My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I couldn't help it.
I'd even rationalized that I became rather defensive just then.
Dr. Rivera didn't flinch. "I believe you," she said simply. "You've been incredibly strong. But sometimes, survival mode and real healing aren't the same thing."
I set my jaw, swallowing hard. My avoidance was hitting its peak. "I'm not even sure if I'm coming back for another appointment yet."
"No?"
I shrugged, pressing my lips together. "I don't really see the point of talking in circles about things I already know."
She studied me for a moment before offering a small smile. "That's fair. But if you do come back, we can talk about things in a way that doesn't feel like circles. Maybe just straight lines."
I exhaled, glancing away. "We'll see."
Dr. Rivera adjusted in her seat, her dark ponytail shifting slightly behind her. "You mentioned Edward makes you feel different. Can you tell me more about that? How does it feel, having someone make you feel this way?"
I paused, my throat tightening. "It's just... different. I can actually breathe when he's around. I can go out and do things. I feel... more like myself."
She nodded slowly, clearly listening but also assessing. "That sounds like it's been important for you. And yet, there's still some hesitation. What do you think you're afraid of when it comes to being with him?"
The question lingered in the air between us, but it didn't feel like it came from nowhere. Something about the way she asked it made me feel like she was trying to get me to reveal things.
I fidgeted, my fingers gripping the edge of the chair. "I'm not afraid," I lied, but it came out too sharp.
Dr. Rivera held my gaze, her midnight eyes soft yet piercing. "I don't think it's fear, necessarily. But sometimes, we look for things in relationships—things we might not even realize we're looking for. Things we didn't get before. Maybe even things we can't fully explain."
The pit in my stomach deepened.
She shifted slightly. "You said Edward makes you feel different, but you've also mentioned your mother in passing. I wonder… how much of this feeling is about him, and how much of it is about needing something that—"
"I'm not talking about my mom right now," I cut her off, voice suddenly tight.
Dr. Rivera didn't flinch, but I saw the faint flicker of recognition in her eyes. She didn't push, but her silence felt like pressure. "Leah, I understand that you're not ready, but I think it's important that we address it—"
"I'm done for today." My voice was colder than I intended, but I didn't care.
I grabbed my purse, yanking the handle on with more force than necessary. My heart was pounding, my skin hot. "I'm not talking about her."
Dr. Rivera didn't try to stop me. She just nodded, quietly observing me with that calm, unyielding gaze.
I didn't look back as I left the room. The door slammed behind me with finality.
I stepped outside and spotted Edward leaning against his car, waiting for me. His eyes softened the moment they met mine, instantly reading the exhaustion etched into my face.
"Hey," he said gently.
I didn't hesitate—I walked straight into his arms, pressing myself against him. His warmth, his steady presence, made it easier to breathe. I inhaled deeply against his shirt, grounding myself in the familiar scent of him—clean, slightly musky, comforting.
His arms tightened around me. "It was rough?"
I nodded against his chest. "There was just so much… it's overwhelming."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
I hesitated, Dr. Rivera's words still lingering in my mind. How do you know it's real? The thought sent a flicker of unease through me, but I pushed it aside. This—us—felt real. It was real.
But I couldn't ignore what was said during the session, the things I hadn't told Edward yet. He knew about my struggles, about Seth, about the scars I carried from my past. But there were still shadows I hadn't let him see—like the details of my mom's passing. Like the way some of Dr. Rivera's words had unsettled something deep inside me.
I exhaled slowly, my fingers curling into his shirt. "Not yet," I admitted. "But maybe soon."
Edward didn't press me about it. He just held me a little tighter, his chin resting lightly against my hair. "Whenever you're ready," he murmured.
For now, that was enough.
Or at least, I told myself it was. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to talk about it.
But halfway through the drive, the burden pressed down on me. It wasn't just the session—it was the way Dr. Rivera's words clung to me, sticking in places I didn't want to examine.
Still, the more I tried to shove it away, the harder it dug in. Until suddenly, the tightness in my chest snapped, and the tears spilled over.
I turned toward the window, pressing my fingers against my lips to stifle the sound, but Edward noticed. He always noticed. Without a word, he pulled off at the next rest stop, cutting the engine. Then, he reached across the console, his hand finding mine, and squeezed.
I shook my head, trying to pull away, but he wouldn't let me. "Come here," he murmured.
The moment I did, I broke. My sobs hit in waves, harder than I expected, until I was clutching onto him, my fingers fisting in his shirt. He didn't say anything, just held me—one hand cradling the back of my head, the other smoothing slow, steady circles against my back.
It took minutes before the storm eased, leaving me raw, hollow. Embarrassed.
I sniffed, leaning away. "Sorry."
"Don't be." His thumb brushed a stray tear from my cheek.
I swallowed hard, pressing my forehead against his shoulder. I'm not going back.
I couldn't.
Not yet.
Seth's appointment had gone better than mine, I could tell. Neither of us really spoke about it much. Edward stayed the night that night, bringing a duffle bag full of clothes and things he might need. He stowed it away in my closet. Just in case. It made me laugh.
That night he made me feel amazing. His fingers and lips danced across my skin, loving me in ways only he knew how.
Afterward, we lay in my bed. He told me with a glint in his eyes that everything was already set for the trip to Florida. He'd spared no expense. Early morning private jet flight, next Monday we leave and get back home Thursday afternoon. He has timeshare in South Florida, with a pool. We made little plans, laughing together as we figured out the details. He begged me to let him buy some outfits for me, plus a hoard of bathing suits, insisting that if I didn't like them, I could just give them away. I was astonished by him. He wanted to do anything and everything for me.
He'd made sure Seth and Jacob would be well taken care of, too. There was an entertainment room in the house with a big TV and a gaming system.
By the weekend, work at the club kept me busy, and by Monday morning, I had already picked up Seth's graduation cap and gown—crisp white with a gold tassel, matching the school colors. I wanted him to look sharp for the occasion, so I also got him a deep ruby-red dress shirt, black slacks, and a new pair of dress shoes to replace his old, worn-out ones.
While I was out shopping, I'd bought some items in anticipation for the trip, I splurged a little more, grabbing Seth some extra summer clothes and a couple of sturdy work shoes for the days he spent at the auto shop with Jacob.
He seemed more at ease, though still a little on edge—like he was carrying some nervous energy just beneath the surface.
I'd decided to put the edibles I'd been saving to use. The therapy session I couldn't shake from my mind was starting to wear me down.
Sleep had become an illusion, unless Edward was around. That worried me more than I cared to admit.
Soon, Seth was going to be walking the stage with all his peers, including some of his old, shitbag friends. I couldn't have been more proud. I tried to focus on that, on all the good things happening, rather than let the negative thoughts take over.
Jacob was excited to see Seth walk soon. Proud moment for us all for him to get through this. He even called Quil to let him know, to hear a hundred congratulations.
Although, Jacob couldn't help but still be a dick. It was just his nature. He was still trying to figure out where to bring Kujo while he was gone on the trip with us. Edward had told him he could just bring Kujo along—no problem.
Jacob was excited to take a break, and was slightly appreciative but still had an uncanny way of letting Edward know he didn't like him.
Jacob glanced at Edward, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "So, you're the guy who thinks he can buy us off with a vacation, huh?"
Edward raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Guess I should start taking notes from you on how to make my life easier."
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