Something in my chest cracks.
She steps a little closer. Not crowding me, just enough that I know she’s there. Solid. Unmoving.
“You don’t need to perform here,” she tells me. “You don’t need to be strong or controlled or likable.”
I let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know how to be anything else.”
“Then we start with what you’re already doing,” she says gently. “You stayed. You didn’t walk out.”
I look at her then.
She’s not afraid of me. Not impressed. Not trying to fix me or flirt or manage my reaction. She’s just steady. Like she can handle the worst of me and isn’t going anywhere because of it.
“Sit,” she says softly.
This time, I do.
The anger doesn’t disappear. It simmers. Coils. But it’s quieter now. Contained instead of explosive.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, staring at the floor. “I didn’t mean to…”
She shakes her head. “You don’t need to apologize for having emotions.”
I huff a weak laugh. “That might be the first time anyone’s ever said that to me.”
Her lips curve just slightly. “Then we’re already doing something right.”
I lean back in the chair, exhaustion crashing over me like a wave. The mask is back on but it doesn’t fit as tightly as it used to.
And somehow she saw every ugly piece of it and didn’t back away.
That scares the hell out of me more than the anger ever could.
The room settles again after the edge wears off, the silence different this time. Not fragile. Not tense.
Just heavy.
Amelia sits back down, giving me space, her hands folded neatly in her lap. No clipboard. No notes. Just her attention.
“Can I ask you a few things?” she says.
I shrug. “You already are.”
A corner of her mouth lifts, but she doesn’t take the bait.
“When you think about your dad,” she asks carefully, “what’s the first memory that comes up?”
I don’t answer right away. I stare at the scuffed floor, jaw tight.
“Teaching me how to throw,” I finally say. “Not gently either. He stood behind me and kept saying, again, harder, don’t baby it.” I snort quietly. “Guess that explains a lot.”
“Did you like it?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I admit. “I loved it. Because when I did it right he smiled. Didn’t happen often.”
She nods, absorbing that. “And now?”
My chest tightens. “Now I keep thinking I didn’t do enough. Didn’t call enough. Didn’t tell him—” I cut myself off, shaking my head. “This is going nowhere.”
