Page 93 of Jersey

"Yes."

"I was planning on moving," I mutter, staring down at my hand and wishing she hadn't opened the curtains. I'm really wishing for the shadows right now.

"I don't know that it would've changed the outcome," she replies. "What were you running from?"

I glance up at her, and although there is a challenge in her eyes, it's not there to anger me, only to get me to think through everything.

"I wanted to get away from whoever was stalking me," I answer, already knowing she's going to argue.

"Well, now you have no reason to run."

"I wasn't running," I argue.

"Yes, you were, and we both know it."

Silence swims between us, and I do my best not to be the one to fold and break it, but I fail after only a few beats.

"What I want doesn't matter."

"What you want is all that matters because changin—"

"Changing my goals for others doesn't serve anyone," I mutter, having heard the same sentence way too many times since I've been seeing her. "What if my goals don't align with other's goals?"

She ponders this for a second before speaking. "I think you might find that certain events are triggering enough to help some make different decisions than they originally thought they wanted."

"Have you spoken with him?" I ask, my pulse kicking up.

"Who?" she asks, her face giving nothing away.

I snap my mouth closed. I'm in no mood to play games, so I'm not going to feed into her little hints.

"Might I suggest that you suspend your therapy appointments for a few weeks so you can work through some stuff?"

I scoff. "I've been working through some stuff for the better part of two decades."

"You witnessed a tragedy yesterday, and that trauma is also connected to the tragic end of two children you counseled."

"I know," I mutter, my hands instantly becoming a lot more interesting. I don't want to think about those lost children, but I also know how unhealthy it is to wait and unpack certain things until after they build up with even more issues. "I feel like a failure."

"You will for a long time, but eventually, you'll get a little distance from what happened, and you'll be able to see that there was nothing you did or didn't do that triggered yesterday's events. Your feelings are valid. Please know that. I'm going to leave you to your day, but please consider taking a break, if only for a week. You'll be a better therapist if you give yourself the grace to handle your own issues."

"I'll take it under advisement," I say, looking up and giving her a weak smile.

She stops by the bed, reaching down and clasping my hands in hers. "I'm only a phone call away if you need to talk. Chat soon, Caitlyn."

Damn her if she doesn't leave the bedroom door open just an inch because she knows I won't be able to curl back under the blankets and hide from the world with it open.

Before I can fully get out of bed, the door opens again.

I stretch down the hem of the t-shirt Jersey put me in last night just as he enters the room.

"Hey," he says, looking a little startled to see me standing at the edge of the bed.

"Hi," I whisper, feeling so very awkward, which is weird considering all that we've done together in recent weeks, including the confessions of what I want and what he's incapable of giving to me.

"Did you sleep okay?"

"Better than I probably should have. When I'm awake, it plays over and over in my head, but I don't think I dreamed about it last night," I answer, making sure not to flash him as I sit back down on the bed. "I didn't mean for you to have to be shoved out of your room. Sorry about that."

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