But they were still here. Still holding on. Still refusing to let me face this alone even when I'd tried so hard to keep them from having to carry any of it.
“I love you,” I managed through the tears. “All of you. So fucking much.”
“We love you too,” Talia said. “And we're going to get through this. Together.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
stay
ROOK
The therapist's office was too quiet, all soft lighting and neutral colors designed to make people feel comfortable opening up about shit they'd rather keep buried. I'd been sitting here for twenty minutes giving surface-level answers to questions about stress management and playoff pressure, and Dr. Chen had been patient enough to let me dodge until I ran out of room to keep avoiding the real conversation.
“You're playing well,” she said, leaning back in her chair with a notepad she hadn't written in once. “The team's advancing, you scored in the last game, and by all accounts you're leading effectively. So why do you look like you haven't slept in a week?”
“Playoffs are stressful.”
“They are. But this isn't playoff stress. This is personal.” She waited, and the silence stretched long enough to make me uncomfortable. “Rowan, I can't help you if you won't talk to me.”
I stared at the abstract painting on the wall behind her head and tried to figure out where to even start. How to explain that I'd found the person I'd been looking for and then immediately destroyed everything because I was too fucked up to handle intimacy without panicking.
“There's a guy,” I said finally. “Old friend from high school. We reconnected a few weeks ago.”
“And?”
“And I fucked it up.” The words came out flat. “We got close, we crossed a line physically, and I panicked and pushed him away.”
“What scared you about the intimacy?”
I looked at her directly for the first time since sitting down. “I gave him control in ways I swore I'd never give anyone after—after what happened with my ex.”
Dr. Chen's expression didn't change, but I saw understanding flicker in her eyes. She knew about the abuse. Had access to the medical documentation Tess had helped me create when I'd finally gotten out of that relationship. “And how did that feel?”
“Terrifying. And perfect. And like I'd just handed him the power to destroy me.” I pressed my palms against my thighs, trying to ground myself. “So I pulled away. Told him it was too much, that I needed time, and he left thinking I'd just confirmed every terrible thing he believes about himself.”
“Which is?”
“That he's too messy. Too broken. Too much chaos for anyone to want long-term.” My throat was tight, and I had to force the next words out. “His family's a disaster, he's got money problems, he drinks too much when he's overwhelmed, and he's been carrying his siblings alone for years. And I looked at all of that and told him I wanted to help. That I'd be there. That I cared.”
“But when it became real?—”
“I ran.” The admission felt like glass in my mouth. “Not physically, but emotionally. I asked him for honesty and vulnerability, and when he gave it to me I treated it like a threat instead of a gift.”
Dr. Chen was quiet for a long moment, and I could see her choosing her words carefully. “You know that's a pattern, right?”
“Yeah. I know.” I rubbed at my face with both hands. “I know I'm a fucking hypocrite. I wanted him to let me in, and the second he did I proved I wasn't safe enough to handle it.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“I don't know. Apologize, I guess. Try to explain that it wasn't about him, it was about my own shit. Hope he doesn't tell me to fuck off.”
“Do you think an apology is enough?”
“No.” I looked at her directly. “But it's a start. And I can't keep hiding behind fear just because being vulnerable is terrifying. He deserves better than that.”
“You deserve better than that too,” she said gently. “You deserve to have people in your life who you can be honest with. Who see the whole of you and don't run.”
I had to look away before the emotion in my chest could turn into anything messier. “I need to go see him. Today. Before I lose my nerve.”
