Page 120 of Back to Willow

“Have you talked to him yet?”

It’s safe to say she knows everything by now. And being able to talk to someone without having to watch what I say has been liberating, but Dr Helen has also been giving me exercises to do at home and has been teaching me better tools to use whenever I have panic attacks or when the past seems to take over my brain.

“No,” I answer quickly. “I’m not ready for that yet.”

“You should,” she tells me. “While what he said was cruel and unwarranted, you have things you need to talk about.”

“Can’t I postpone it? Like after the holidays?”

“What if he wants to spend Christmas with Dylan and you?”

Oh. It had crossed my mind. I just hoped…it wouldn’t be a possibility yet.

“We agreed during the last session that telling him the whole truth about Dylan’s paternity should be done sooner rather than later. Right?”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “But it’s easier said than done.”

“What’s troubling you?”

“Everything,” I admit. “What if he hates me when I tell him the rest? Worse, what if he doesn’t believe me?”

“From what you’ve told me about him, I reckon he’ll believe you.”

“And then what? If he does believe me, it will destroy him. And on top of all of that, if he isn’t the father…I—”

“You?” she presses.

I gulp, trying to swallow the knot forming in my throat. “I have hope again,” I confess. “If he isn’t the father, it’ll break me all over again.”

“Willow, if that were to happen, would it change anything?”

“Not for me. But for Liam—”

“If that changes something for him, then it’s his loss. Not yours, not Dylan’s.” Her words make me look away.

She’s right—to some extent. The real question is, will I be able to power through the pain of losing him again?

“Promise me you’ll talk to him. Yes?”

“Yes,” I give in.

“Alright.” She slaps her thighs, bringing my attention back to her.

We talk for another forty minutes. There are some more questions about my parents—a side she is constantly trying to explore and that I keep shutting down—and some more about the different exercises I can do if I feel an oncoming panic attack.

We go over those quite a lot since mine tend to be strong.

Then, when it’s just short of ten minutes to finish the session, she surprises me by asking, “How have you been sleeping? Do you still have nightmares?”

“On bad days,” I confess. “Or when I’m too stressed.”

It’s never easy. Sometimes, I go weeks with regular sleep, and everything goes smoothly. Then sometimes, all it takes is a tiny trigger— a sudden touch, a familiar scent—to send me down the rabbit hole. Other times, it’s just an exhausting day after an exam or a longer shift.

I never know what kind of night I’ll have until I fall asleep.

For some people, it could be hell on earth. To me? It’s just one more day.

The fact I can sleep a few nights out of a week is already a victory because there was a time when I didn’t sleep until my body shut down from exhaustion.

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