“Yeah. Like, I used to be completely self-sufficient. I handled my injury alone, dealt with my identity crisis alone, and navigated college alone. And now...” I took a shaky breath. “Now I find myself wanting to text you about stupid things. Wanting your opinion on decisions. I want to hear your voice when Ican't sleep. And that terrifies me because what if you realize I'm too much? Or not enough? Or just... not worth the effort?”
“Rosalie.” His voice was rough with emotion. “You are always going to be worth the effort. Always.”
“You don't know that. We've only been dating for like five minutes.”
“I've known you for over a year. I've seen you at your lowest and your highest. I've watched you rebuild yourself from the ground up. I know exactly who you are and trust me...you're worth every single second.”
A sob caught in my throat. “I wish you were here.”
“Me too. But I'm here now, on the phone. And I'm not going anywhere until you're ready to sleep.”
“That might be a while. My brain won't shut off.”
“Then tell me what's going on in there. Every thought. I want to hear them all.”
So I did. I told him about my fear of never dancing professionally. About my guilt over lying to Aaron. About my terror that I was turning Derek into my new identity, the way ballet used to be. About how I was jealous of Daisy and Jeremy's seemingly easy relationship, even though I knew she was struggling. About how I felt like I was failing at everything...school, friendship, and figuring out my future.
And Derek listened. He didn't try to fix everything or offer empty platitudes. He just listened, occasionally asking questions or offering his own fears in return.
He told me about his session with Dr. Morrison, about admitting he was falling for me and being terrified of what that meant. About his own fear that he was using me as a crutch for his recovery. About the guilt he felt for lying to Aaron, his teammate and friend.
“We're quite the pair,” I said eventually, somewhere around 3:30 AM. “Both scared, both guilty, both having no idea what we're doing.”
“Yeah, but at least we're honest about it,” Derek pointed out. “That counts for something, right?”
“I think so.” I yawned, finally feeling the pull of exhaustion. “Thank you for this. For listening. For not making me feel crazy.”
“You're not crazy. You're processing. There's a difference.”
“Dr. Derek Morrison over here.”
He laughed. “God, I hope not. One therapist in my life is enough.”
“Mine too,” I agreed, even though the idea of therapy had been slowly becoming more appealing. Maybe Daisy was onto something with that.
“Rosie?”
“Mmm?”
“I know we're keeping this quiet right now, but... eventually we're going to have to tell people. Aaron especially.”
My stomach clenched. “I know.”
“I don't want you to think I'm ashamed of you or hiding you. I'm not. I just want us to have time to figure this out first, without everyone's opinions and expectations.”
“I want that too,” I admitted. “But you're right. Eventually...”
“Eventually,” he echoed. “But not tonight. Tonight, you need to sleep.”
“I'm not tired anymore.” It was a lie. I could barely keep my eyes open.
“Liar. I can hear the yawn in your voice.”
“Fine. Maybe I'm a little tired.” I snuggled deeper into my pillow, phone pressed against my ear. “Will you stay on the line? Until I fall asleep?”
“I'm not going anywhere,” he promised. “Want me to tell you a story?”
“A story?”
