Cece’s voice is barely above a whisper. “And now?”
“Now it’s loud again. Worse than before. I wake up feeling like I can’t move. Like if I mess up one more time, the whole thing collapses. I keep hearing Dad’s voice, even when he’s not here.It’s like the walls are closing in. But what right do I have to that feeling? There are people out there with real problems. Real suffering.”
Cece reaches across the table, placing her hand over mine. Her fingers are icy, but her grip is steady.
“Your feelings are valid, Beau,” she says firmly. “I get where you’re coming from. I do. We have all this privilege.” She waves her arms around her. “But money doesn’t make you happy. And our parents certainly never did much to ensure our emotional well-being. You’re allowed to recognize your privilege and still acknowledge your own issues. It’s taken me time to figure that out, but it’s true.”
I look down at our hands. Hers stained faintly with graphite and mine chapped red from the cold because I forgot to put my gloves on.
“I thought it was just me,” I murmur. “That I was broken somehow.”
“You’re not,” she says. “And I know you don’t want to hear this, but… I started seeing someone. A therapist.”
My eyes snap up. “You?”
She shrugs, sheepish. “I was struggling last year. Wrong friends, wrong priorities. Well, you know how that ended up? My assets all over the internet. So, I finally gave in and made an appointment. Turns out it helps.”
Something in me loosens. A knot I didn’t know was there.
“I don’t know where to start,” I say.
“You don’t have to know. Just show up. Let someone else hold the map for a while.”
I press my thumb to the edge of the table, grounding myself. The silence between us is thick, but not heavy.
“Funny, I was just telling Luna she needs to accept help from other people, and she flipped it back into my zone.”
Cece squeezes my hand. “Smart girl. Go talk to her. Get on your hands and knees. Grovel. Whatever it takes. She’s a freaking amazing individual, and she understands family obligations. You can get through to her.”
I want to believe that. I really do.
But something still coils in my chest, anxious and waiting. Like it knows this isn’t over yet.
I stay at the table even after Cece’s gone quiet again, her pencil already moving in long, careful strokes across the page. She doesn’t look up, but I can tell she’s still with me, listening, aware.
My chest feels cracked open. Not exactly broken. But split, like there’s finally air getting into places that had gone stiff and dark.
I lean back in the chair, tilting my head up to stare at the ceiling. The soft whir of the fridge fills the silence. The furnace kicks on with a gentle hum.
“I think I need help,” I say eventually.
Cece’s pencil stills.
“I don’t want to keep going like this,” I add. “Pretending everything’s fine when I can barely get through practice without my lungs locking up.”
She nods, not pushing. Just waiting.
I rake a hand through my hair. “Do you like your therapist?”
Cece half-smiles. “Yeah. She doesn’t try to fix me. Just helps me untangle things. You know my brain looks like one of those crime investigation boards with all the red yarn.”
“That sounds useful,” I say, and it comes out more sarcastic than I mean. I wince. “Sorry. I just… this all feels like something I should’ve handled years ago.”
“Beau.” She levels me with a look. “Our family fucked us up good. And while I’ve had my share of trauma, you’ve always been the one with the big, bad family expectations weighing down on you. Not to mention the bullshit about guys not showing emotion. We’re all just trying to survive.”
I nod, but the shame still burns low in my throat. I’ve spent so long building walls around this. My anxiety, the panic, the feeling like I’m one snapped nerve away from falling apart, that I don’t even know how to live without the pressure. It’s not just a part of me. It is me. Or it has been.
But Cece’s right. I need to talk to Luna. Explain everything. I want her to know. I want her, but she deserves to know everything. Learn what she’s getting into if she even wants to give me a second chance.
