I should’ve been overwhelmed, but all I felt was peace.
SIXTEEN
Morgan
Gettingready for a date shouldn’t have felt like a mission briefing, but my body didn’t know the difference. This was date five now with us alone, spread over the last three weeks. A trip to the movies for a quieter afternoon showing, two dinners at Cole’s place, and two dates here in the family room with picnics.
He didn’t mention me moving in again, even though he kept showing Gabbi photos to get her opinion on the decor for the room he’d promised her. Apparently, onebahwas a yes, a nod was a yes, and an enthusiastic grab for his phone was too. It seemed as if my daughter couldn’t say no to him.
Me, on the other hand? Iwassaying no. Not directly, of course. I hadn’t said no to moving in; I’d said no to leaving Guardian Hall, because I was scared.
I knew I was scared, and Elena didn’t have to psych that out of me; I came out and said it. When they asked what scared me most, and I didn’t have an answer at first, but then I cried.
A lot.
I wanted Gabbi to be safe. I wanted to not jump at noises. I wanted to calm the fuck down.
She gave me things I could do. Breathing with weight was one of them, one hand on my chest, the other on Gabbi’s back, longer exhales than inhales, but no counting like a drill. Cold water on my wrists, or a warm mug between my hands. I should have daily anchor points, a routine, known endings like my Willard Price books, and theHairy McClarybooks I read to Gabbi. I also had to think about my pre-exit planning, who would be with Gabbi, how I would get back, and what would happen when I leave. The worst was that she was making me name my fears. She told me this was a good thing because I didn’t have to solve everything in one day. I just had to accept that it was happening.
My waiting-for-the-next-disaster brain had to become used to listing the evidence that a disaster would happen.
Elena didn’t give me a magic trick. She gave me small things. Boring things. Breathing exercises that felt stupid until they didn’t. Ways to check a room without spiraling. Routines that made the day predictable enough that my body stopped bracing for impact.
And yeah, tonight’s date, a meal in a restaurant, was my first real date where I had to face the anxiety head-on.
Gabbi was already down for her nap, and I stood in front of the mirror tugging at a sweater that looked… fine. I turned sideways, then back again, and made myself stop before I started pulling at seams that didn’t need fixing. I’d put on a little weight, and it was enough to alleviate the gauntness, not enough to fill out this oversized sweater.
It looks good. I’m okay.
Jazz leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, waiting for me to be done so that, in his words, he could get onto the good bits of his evening in which he, Alex, and Rascal got to spend quality time with Gabbi.
“You look good,” he said.
“Yeah?” I ran a hand through my hair, then dropped it before I could do it again. “This isn’t too much?”
“Cole’s gonna love it, tell you it brings out the color of your eyes, and then smooch you or something.”
I smiled at that—Cole did have a way about him when he threw compliments at me and then kissed me, so I’d remember each one.
“Okay.” I brushed a hand over Gabbi’s hair, and then kissed her, and straightened my sweater again. “The milk is?—”
“Don’t even go there,” Jazz interrupted. “We’ve got this.”
“I know. Thank you.”
“No, thank you for letting me have Gabbi time before you go.”
Go.
Go where?
I was stuck.
I didn’t say that. I smiled again and headed downstairs, where Cole would be waiting. He was always early for picking me up, almost eager, and I loved that. I was nearly at the office where voices drifted faintly from the half-open door. I hadn’t noticed them at first—just background sound, the normal hum of Guardian Hall—but then I heard Cole’s voice.
Not loud. Not upset.
I wasn’t trying to listen. I really wasn’t.
