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“So… You’ve been through a lot. You’ve already survived that much. Before I offer my thoughts, why do you think your nightmares are coming back?”

“Because the universe wants to remind me I can’t get too much better?” I was being sarcastic, but also not really. “What do you think?”

“Do you want me to answer that now? You don’t want to take a little more time to get comfortable working with me?” One brow arched up. She’d clearly sensed my impatience.

I let out a sigh. “I’ve done therapy and it helped me a lot. So, when my friend also recommended you, I came in trusting you off the jump. I guess I really want the answer because I love Chloe and I don’t want this to fuck up my chances.”

Delaney nodded slowly. “I think you just answered your own question.”

“What do you mean?”

She was quiet for a beat. “Recovery from significant traumatic events is not a straight line. There can be some commentary in the discourse online around dealing with trauma suggesting one can just get over it and be healed forever. That’s usually not how it works. What we aim for is learning to decrease the severity of symptoms in reaction to triggers. Trauma can be messy to work through. I often look at how many layers are involved. Have you ever been in a car accident?”

I shook my head. “Surprisingly, no.”

“Okay. Have you ever been to war?”

I shook my head again. “Why do you ask?”

“I like to choose examples that haven’t happened to the person I’m speaking with. So for any event, I look at the layers. Say, you are in war and you witness trauma to someone unrelated to you, that’s one layer. Another layer could be witnessing a peer, but maybe not a close one, get hurt—a little closer to home. Or your best friend—another layer. Or family, say you had a brother there with you—yet another layer.”

“My last therapist talked to me about this.”

“Did she?”

“Yes. She explained that what I experienced would often be described as complex trauma, because it involved my own life being at risk, all of my family members, the loss of a place that we loved, and also my sister actually dying and the trauma of me trying to save her and not being able to.”

“Okay, so you’ve been down this road,” Delaney said.

“Yes.” I ran my hands through my hair. “But what does Chloe have to do with this?”

She tipped her head to the side. “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” I took a slow breath, trying to loosen the tightness clenching around my throat. “I love her, and I guess letting someone else matter that much to me might be bringing everything up again.”

“Exactly. Trauma isn’t always logical, especially emotional trauma. You had a significant loss involving someone you loved. Now, you love Chloe. She’s new in your life. Your nervous system is trying to protect you.” She paused. “Think of it this way. Say someone experienced trauma involving their breath being constricted. Things like tight necklaces or shirts that are tight around their neck can trigger it. Those things are not their trauma, but they’re a reminder. In your case, losing someone important to you and feeling responsible for that loss is part of your trauma. Feelings are not fact-based.”

“No shit,” I said, letting out a bitter chuckle. Humor lightened these moments for me. It was like handrails on tricky terrain, keeping me from losing my balance.

“For what it’s worth, I could be wrong about my guess on this. When someone wants answers about what’s happening for them, all I can do is take what we know about how these things work in the brain and nervous system and try to apply that to your life based on the information I have. I think you’re giving me accurate information, so we’re in good shape there. Some people have big blank spots around trauma, which can make it more challenging.”

“I wish I had blank spots,” I said with feeling.

She shrugged a little at that. “Maybe, maybe not. How does this guess feel to you?”

“It makes a lot of fucking sense,” I said flatly. That emotion rushed up again, squeezing tight around my heart, the pressure rising into my throat, my eyes stinging. “So what do I do?”

“When you went to therapy the first time, what worked?”

I looked up and considered. “Breathing helps, walks help me a lot. That’s kind of how I got through to the other side of it.”

“So try what works already. It helps.”

“Chloe helped. My nightmares got less and less frequent, but they didn’t go away until her. But now they’ve come back with a vengeance. Should I not be sleeping with her?” That idea panicked me, and Delaney must have seen it on my face.

“I think it could help to be honest with her about it and with yourself. Sometimes it helps to just accept it, to say it out loud to yourself or someone else. You got through it before and you will get through it again. After traumatic events, our nervous systems can interpret things as threats that aren’t. Chloe is not a threat. Except you love her, so losing her feels terrifying and your nervous system is trying to protect you.” She paused. “As awful as losing Bree was to your family, that’s already happened. You can’t change it. Replaying that actually feels safer than acknowledging your fears about losing Chloe and feeling responsible for that, which is something else you need to be aware of. Feeling responsible for the people you love is admirable, but it can also be a trigger. When you’re feeling that, remind yourself of what that means for you and what is actually within your control. Give yourself a little space and grace to get through to the other side of it.”

“So I’m just going to have to get through this?” I wanted a magic trick. I really did.