"I had a full breakdown on the bathroom floor, Jackson. That's pretty much the definition of too much."
"You needed to fall apart. You've been holding it together for months." I keep my voice steady, gentle. "And I'm glad you did it with me instead of alone."
She doesn't respond, just studies my face like she's trying to figure out if I mean it.
"I'm going to find you a therapist," I say. "Someone who specializes in sexual assault and trauma. Someone good."
"I told you, I can't afford?—"
"And I told you I'll handle it." I shift onto my elbow so I'm looking down at her properly. "You need professional help, Maya. Last night proved that. So I'm going to find you someone, and I'm going to pay for it, and you're going to go."
"You can't just?—"
"Yes, I can. And I am." My tone leaves no room for argument. "You can fight me on this, but you'll lose."
Something flickers across her face. Not anger. Something softer. Like relief that someone's making decisions when she can't.
"Okay," she says quietly.
"Okay?"
"Okay. I'll go. If you can find someone."
The tension in my chest eases. "I'll find someone."
Footsteps in the hallway. Chase's voice, then Emma's, both heading downstairs. I can hear Ethan babbling about something, probably demanding breakfast.
"You should go," Maya says. "Before they see you here."
She's right. But leaving her feels wrong.
"I'll be downstairs if you need anything."
She nods, and I slip out of bed, grab my phone, and head for the door. Before leaving, though, I pause.
"Maya?"
"Yeah?"
"Last night doesn't change anything between us. You're still Emma's best friend. You're still welcome here. You're still—" I stop, not sure how to finish that sentence without saying too much.
"Still what?"
"Still someone I care about."
I leave before she can respond.
Downstairs, I pull out my laptop and start searching. Therapists in Hartford. Specialization in sexual assault. Taking new patients. I cross-reference reviews, availability, and insurance policies, even though I'll be paying out of pocket.
The list is long. I narrow it down to five with the best reviews and availability, then email all of them explaining the situation: friend needs help, trauma from assault, urgency.
Three respond within an hour.
Dr. Rebecca Mills. Trauma specialist. Twenty years of experience. Can see Maya this afternoon if needed.
I book the appointment without hesitation.
Emma and Chase are in the kitchen when I head upstairs. Emma's making breakfast while Ethan dumps cereal on the floor with gleeful abandon. Chase is reading something on his phone, occasionally reaching down to pick up the cereal Ethan's throwing.
