Page 114 of Everything But Mine

“Eric,” the group leader, a therapist in his mid-twenties who generally stays quiet but for gently reminding us of the rules. “There’s no better assurance than commitment to your path. And commitment here”—he waves his hands around the complex, pointing at the compound past the floor-to-ceiling windows—“is just talk. You prove it by doing it outside, day by day. Every day. Nothing is more life altering than persistence in the little things.”

I swallow and look back down at the carpet between my shoes. Then, there’s just wait time for whoever needs to pick up a turn. That’s it—no resolution or breakthrough. Only a question that lingers behind my sternum, kicking at my ribs. How do I know I’ll stay better outside?

It’s belay time. Kayla is struggling more than usual today, so the group therapist tells her to stay for more reps… and I am her partner today, so I do what I’m told.

I stand anchored at the base of the wall, rope locked around my hand as she climbs. She moves slowly, making sure to put pressure before settling her full weight, testing. I give slack when she needs it, and take it back when she wobbles. It allows her to keep moving at her pace while having a safety system. Belaying here is controlled dependence, a real-life trial run of both trust and ability to hold yourself alone. It’s a strange way to force intimacy. She looks down once, her eyes catching mine and glinting with playfulness.

We rappel down, and she sits on the ground. I reach to unclip the rope, but she tugs at it once and pats the space next to her. I sit a foot or two away from here, rope coiled between my fingers. She shifts to face me sideways, her eyes trail down from my eyes to my waist, and then back up.

“What you said yesterday took courage.” Her brown hair shifts with the wind, and I can’t avoid the intrusive thought that the shade’s too light, too honey-like.

I shrug. “Everything everyone says in there takes courage. That’s why we’re here.”

She turns fully, stretching her leg so her knee and thigh take up every inch I’d left between us. “You ever think about what you’d do first when you get out?”

I shift away so we’re not touching. I shake my head.

She smiles, but it’s a measuring one. “You really don’t think about it?”

“It’s all I think about,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t fantasize, though. I do the work to get out of here.

She narrows her eyes at the corner, gaze fixed on mine. “I think about it all the time. What I’ll want. What I’ll need.” She licks her lips. “I want to be touched without fear. I haven’t been touched since…”

Kayla doesn’t need to finish. She went into it during a group session. My stomach twists violently.

Quieter, she adds, “Maybe I don’t need to wait until I’m out?”

I keep my eyes on the rope in my hands. I loop it absently, my fingers moving. Her tone is not flirtatious, but there’s certainly something there.

“I just want to feel… safe. And we could experiment. See if it feels okay?”

The offer thickens the air around me, casual tone and yet suggestive in a way that makes me taste bile in my mouth.

It lands between my lungs, and my mind recognizes the pattern I’m familiar with. Escape and avoidance to prove that I’m undeserving. I’m not lost in a fog of bad habits, though. I don’t want to prove I’m a failure.

I want the opposite.

And my own words follow that determination. I touch no one but you. No one touches me but you. And when I glance back at Kayla, relaxed but guarded, green eyes shining with hesitation, they’re not the right shade. And it doesn’t matter either way because… I’m with Amanda. She’s key in this decision, of course, but a weight lifts off my shoulders because it’s me choosing to break a pattern. I know that at times I failed, but I am not a failure, and I don’t have to fail now.

I let the rope fall from my hand and unhook the clip from my harness. “No, I’m not doing that.”

Her gaze flickers to the ground, and when she looks at me again, there’s determination. “What if you return, and all of this still hasn’t helped you?” She shifts her stare to the harness around my hips. “And she doesn’t want someone who can’t⁠—”

I stand up and rub my hands to shake the chalk off. “I’m with her. That’s all you need to know.”

I pull the knot loose and let the rope fall between us.

“Do you ever wonder if she deserves you?” she whispers.

I shake my head. “Not anymore.”

Because it’s finally clicking at this moment—it’s mutual. I want to deserve her and she wants to deserve me. And with all our cards on the table, we finally do. Meaning… I can go back to her.

I grab everything that isn’t still hooked to her. “I should check in with the rec staff,” I say. “Before lights out.”

I don’t look back to see if she watches me go.

Once I’m in the dorm building, I put a request for Val to hop on a call with me right away. In my room, I log on right away to the secure link, and Val joins a few minutes later. From Diego’s bedroom.