Page 78 of Newton

"You betrayed no one, Brielle. Fear can make people do a lot of insane shit, and no one faults you for trying to escape."

"I have so many mistakes to account for," I whisper, my voice growing ragged and clogged with emotion. "A lot of begging for forgiveness."

"There's nothing to be forgiven," he assures me, pressing his lips to the top of my head.

I want to believe him, and I think there's a part of me that does, but I've never been a part of something that isn't a hundred percent transactional. I grew up needing to pay my way, be it for food and shelter or simply because Nathan or Xan showed me mercy. Nothing in life is free, and if Beck's telling me differently, then I'll have to reevaluate everything I know.

Chapter 37

Newton

I do my best not to look directly at her.

It's been two weeks since we returned to New Mexico, and I feel like I'm watching her too closely. I know it's going to annoy the shit out of her eventually, but I just can't seem to help myself.

"And how does it make you feel?"

"Being here?" Brielle says, drawing in a deep breath before answering Dr. Alverez. "I can't help but think we're doomed if we're already in couples therapy."

I roll my lips between my teeth to keep from smiling when Dr. Alverez flinches because, I, more than most, understand her dark humor. I think it's a trait that most people who have suffered trauma end up with. We can joke about darkness and the macabre because we've seen so much worse.

"As I explained, we can meet separately. This doesn't have to be viewed as a couple's session."

Brielle squeezes my hand, the only answer any of us needs to the question. It quiets that part of me that has been fearful since I scooped her up and put her in the SUV in Ohio. I've done my best to ignore the voice that whispers on occasion that she's going to push me away. History has proven she can do it, but she hasn't faltered since returning to Farmington.

She didn't return to the closet, but as much progress as she has made, she still looked uneasy when we left the clubhouse today for this appointment.

"This is fine," Brielle answers. "I'm fine with being here, mostly."

"Explain mostly," Dr. Alverez urges.

"Without going into too much detail, my life is in danger, and my fear is more about leaving the clubhouse than attending therapy. So in other words it's me, not you," Brielle says, a hint of humor in her voice.

"I'm working to clear my schedule starting next week," Dr. Alverez says. "This will be the only session you'll have to travel to. All others can be at the clubhouse if that's what you prefer. I'll block off two days a week for sessions with Cerberus."

Brielle shifts in her seat before turning her eyes toward me.

"I told you. We all meet with Dr. Alverez."

She argued that it wasn't normal to confess your sins to a stranger when I suggested that we meet with the good doctor. She hasn't curled back into the closet, but her nightmares are showing no sign of fading, and it concerns me.

"It's my understanding that you're having nightmares," Dr. Alverez prods.

I know that Brielle completed the intake forms, and although I urged her to be completely honest, I didn't know how much information she was going to disclose. I give her hand a little squeeze, grateful that she seems willing to see if this actually helps her.

"They're about my stepfather," Brielle explains. "And fear. They're all about fear."

"He traumatized you, so it's expected," Dr. Alverez says in the same compassionate way she does with me when I talk about my childhood and how my mother's neglect still affects certain aspects of my life to this day.

Dr. Alverez talks her through some breathing techniques as I let myself sink right back down into the darkness Nathan created in me by association with Brielle.

He is in the wind. After the team that was following him through Columbus lost him in traffic, he vanished. He hasn't been spotted anywhere. He missed a court date here earlier this week, so that means a warrant has been issued for his arrest, but a piece of paper doesn't build confidence in anyone that he won't eventually pop up again.

Wren has been keeping the facial recognition running nonstop in case he ends up at an airport, bus station, or if he ever catches a cab in any of the major cities in the United States.

There's been nothing.

The two men that he had with him when he left the house that night were found with bullet holes in their heads right outside of Pittsburgh. It has been speculated that he either went north from there and took refuge in Canada, or he headed further east and ended up in New York City. It's all speculation because it's as if the man turned to mist and disappeared, a serious feat in these modern days of technology.

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