She wasn’t the only one I’d been sharing this stuff with. I may have eventually started telling her about my nightmares, but there was someone else I’d been talking to about them from the very beginning.
I exhaled and hugged myself tighter. “I’m in a dark room. I’m running towards an exit but keep falling. And when I finally get to the end, the door vanishes. I scream, and scream, and…” I sniffed. “I keep screaming, and then I wake up.”
Dr. Hill’s gaze softened a little. “Is there anyone else who knows about this?”
Her question caught me a little off guard. She’s never asked me that before, so I looked at her with slightly wide eyes, but then slowly relaxed and got more comfortable on the sofa.
“I’ve been sharing them with Dylan since day one,” I admitted.
A small smile tugged at her lips as she placed her elbows on the glass table in front of her and leaned forward. “Anyone else?”
I shook my head. “Only him.”
“And why him?” she inquired. “You have your parents; you have Kenzie. Then why Dylan?”
I lifted a shoulder. “I feel safe when I talk to him.” I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “I love my parents and Kenzie, but the comfort I experience when I hear Dylan’s voice or see him – that’s different and more…”
“Dependable?” Dr. Hill suggested.
“Yeah,” I said around a smile. “He’s like a blanket of warmth, in a way. He knows exactly what to say to make me happy, and to make me laugh.”
“And what about his husband, Conner?”
“He’s great, but he’s not Dylan,” I said, which made Dr. Hill chuckle. “Dylan is a literal queen. He’s the bestie every girl needs. But most importantly, he’s the brother I’d always wanted.”
Dr. Hill grinned. “I’m so happy you’ve found that, Zaira.”
“Thank you.” I shifted a little. “But, do you think dependability is a bad thing?”
She shook her head. “Not necessarily. If it helps you heal, then it’s acceptable. Just don’t let it consume you.”
“I won’t,” I told her. “Dylan gives me space and asks me to do things on my own – like learning to close doors when I’m in a room alone, or trying to stay calm when someone closes the door to the room I’m in.”
It was another issue I’d developed after the studio incident. I couldn’t be in a locked room, or a room whose doors were closed. At first, I couldn’t close any door on my own except for my apartment door, but with the help of my sessions with Dr. Hill, and with Dylan’s constant help, I’d learned to slowly get back on track.
Dr. Hill seemed a little shocked by my confession. “You told him about that?”
“Yeah,” I said. “He’s one of the reasons why I’ve gotten better with doors.”
Dylan and Dr. Hill were the only ones who knew, and even though it’d been hard to keep that part of me from the others, I’d managed to do it. Every time I’d try to tell them about it, my mind would shut down. I didn’t know why, but I also wasn’t mad about it. Talking about these things was stressful, to say the least. It took so much outta me that I felt exhausted after speaking of them.
“Have you heard from Gallan?” Dr. Hill suddenly asked.
My chest tightened at the mention of his name. Memories of our last encounter flooded my mind, making my eyes sting.
“No.” I cleared my throat. “No, I haven’t.” He’d stopped calling and texting me after he’d walked away from me last month, and the only updates about him and his press tour that I’d been receiving, had come from Amara. Dylan was on tour with Kenneth, Shane, and Gallan, but he never spoke of the latter with me, or even mentioned his name during our video, text, or voice chats. I appreciated him for that, but somewhere deep down, my skin would prickle in anticipation every time Dylan and I spoke, quite possibly in the hopes of him slipping something about Gallan to me.
I knew I was punishing myself. It wasIwho had pushed him away, so I had zero rights to think about him, or even dream of getting updates about him.
I’d brought down the hammer on my own foot, and I didn’t deserve to bandage my wounds now just because they hurt too much.
“And how does that make you feel?” Dr. Hill’s voice cut through the silence.
“Huh?” I fidgeted with my glasses as I looked at her.
She got to her feet and stepped away from her table. I watched the way her black stilettos pressed against the white faux carpet on the floor as she walked over to me.
She sat down on my left and gave me a soft smile. “Do you miss him, Zaira?” A simple question, but it damn near knocked the breath right out of me anyway.
