I continue scrolling, briefly skimming her college admissions essay until I land on transcripts from therapy sessions Riley attended back when she was a young teenager.
I pause, frowning when I read that her attendance was mandatory following a car accident that killed her mom as well as her sister.
Riley had a sister?
A tightness coils in my chest as I skim through the records.
I knew that her mother’s death was traumatic from the way she shut down my attempt to ask her about it when we were in Vegas, but she never mentioned she had a sister.
According to the records, she was fourteen when the accident happened, which means she was old enough to remember every little detail.
As I read, one of the early notes that the therapist scribbled down stands out to me.
The patient displayssymptoms of survivor’s guilt but remains highly resilient.
Shows above-average empathy and maturity.
Engages well.
Coping mechanisms are largely healthy.
I swallow hard.
Riley was in the car when they got hit, but she was the only one who survived.
Jesus.
I lean back, my hand tightening on the mouse.
I’m still staring at the screen, but I’m not really seeing it anymore.
Her behavior makes sense now, in a messed-up, painful kind of way. The distance she’s been putting between us, the sharpedges that weren’t there before. It’s not just about me or the marriage or even Sean O’Keefe. She’s scared of letting someone in and of loving them, only to end up losing them.
This insight into Riley’s past shouldn’t make me feel better, but it does. At least this helps me understand what could be going on inside her head.
I’m not good with uncertainty, and this gives me something to work with. But until I actuallytalkto Riley, this is all just guesswork, and that’s the part I keep avoiding.
I’m not built for vulnerability. Riley throws me off balance in ways no one else ever has.
But I’m not going to figure her out from behind a locked door, and I’m sure as hell not going to figure it out through background checks.
I need to talk to her, and I meanreallytalk to her if I have any chance of rebuilding things between us. Because I’m starting to realize that whatever the hell is happening between us, it’s not just pretend anymore.
And maybe it never was.
