I could keep Truth exactly where she belonged: in a contract, in a clinic, in a role that had clear boundaries and an expiration date.
I repeated it to myself like a mantra as I walked upstairs to my bedroom.
This is the right move.
This is control.
This is logic.
I stripped off my shirt and tossed it in the hamper.
Checked my watch.
It was late, but I needed to shower, needed to clear my head, needed to?—
My phone buzzed.
I looked down.
A text from Truth.
Thank you again for last night. I’m okay. Dr. Chen was very professional.
I stared at the message.
Simple.
Grateful.
Professional.
Exactly what it should be.
My thumb hovered over the keyboard.
I wanted to ask how she was feeling.
I wanted to ask if the swelling had gone down.
I wanted to ask if she needed anything—groceries, medicine, someone to check on her tomorrow.
I wanted to text back immediately like I had last night when she called me panicking about the injection site.
I wanted to?—
I silenced my phone.
Set it face-down on the dresser.
Walked into the bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as it would go.
I stood under the spray and told myself I was doing the right thing.
Alexis was the answer.
Alexis was safe.
Alexis wouldn’t make me defend her to my father.
