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It took two more rounds of retching before I could pry my sticky forehead off the toilet seat and relax my head against the wall.

I just overdid it on my run. That’s all.

I wasn’t vomiting because I was losing control of my emotions, my sanity.

I just overdid it.

But of course, even the toilet knew that was very far from the truth.

CHAPTER TWO

BRYN

Iarrived fifteen minutes early to my appointment and sat stoically in the waiting room.

As much as I didn’t want to sit down and share my feelings, I didn’t want to get kicked out of The Guard, either.

Leafing through one of the magazines from the coffee table, I focused on staying calm.

My stomach still hadn’t settled completely from earlier, and even after I’d brushed my teeth to the point of bloody gums, the taste of bile lingered on my tongue.

This wasn’t my first time at Dr. Mallory’s office; I’d grown up coming here every so often after my parents had told me I’d been adopted. Left as a newborn baby on their doorstep, in the middle of the night, with only a bit of paper on me, my name scrawled across it: Brynlynn.

No last name.

My parents had been worried about my lack of emotion at the news, rightfully so, and thought it would be a good idea for me to talk to someone. They hadn’t understood that the knowledge of my origin story hadn’t changed anything for me; my parents would always be my mom and dad, but I’d gone to the therapy sessions to make them feel better about keeping a secret from me.

Although I wasn’t saddened by the thought of being left on a doorstep, I did often find myself thinking about the situation my birth parents had to have been in to give up their baby—mostly out of curiosity. Had they been high school sweethearts, too young to raise a child? Or were they simply two people who hadn’t been ready to become parents?

Either way, I’d lucked out with the family that had raised me.

“Bryn Evans,” the receptionist called my name. “The doctor will see you now, head on back.”

I stood, reluctantly, and walked down the hallway to the closed door at the end.

I hesitated before knocking, thinking it might not be too late to back out, but before I could make a run for it, my former therapist opened the door wearing a big smile.

“Bryn! It’s been too long!” Dr. Mallory exclaimed, wrapping her arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug.

Although it wasn’t professional, I returned the hug, sinking into her embrace.

I’d always liked Dr. Mallory. She was kind and withheld judgment: two things I needed in this moment.

She patted my back before leading me to the sofa across from her leather chair. “I’m sorry we have to see each other under these circumstances,” she said, glancing at my appearance.

I was sure I looked awful. I had hardly eaten, and wasn’t sleeping. I felt like a shell of myself, and was positive my makeup-free face looked dull and tired.

I avoided her eyes as I lied straight to her face. “I’m sorry I missed last week’s appointment. I wasn’t feeling very well.”

“Ah, yes . . . I know the stomach bug has been going around these last few weeks.” She winked, her graying hair and soft wrinkles doing little to dull the youth of her soul. “How’s your brother doing?”

I sat down, confused, but then recalled Hunter coming to see Dr. Mallory a couple years back, after we’d lost our parents.

“He’s doing good, thanks.”

She nodded her head sadly as she sat. “I was sorry to hear about your parents. That must’ve been hard on you, too; I was surprised only Hunter came to see me.”

I avoided her prying. “Isn’t that doctor-patient information between you and my brother?”