Page 80 of Your Secret to Keep

“I’ll give you a minute and call the offices for the doctors I’m referring you to. They’re both great—you’re in the best hands,” he says reassuringly.

Why isn’t there a way to pause crying? Like, I’m happy to continue this, but can I get six seconds to tell someone something without sounding like a character from the Muppet show?

“Thank you. For…” I try to take in air to bring my voice down an octave. “Everything. I appreciate you.” I grab my shirt and pull it on.

“Lia, we’re here for you. You’re part of the team.” He puts a hand on my shoulder as I let my head fall forward, ugly sobs escaping.

The heartbreak creeps up when the only person I wish I could have is my mom. The woman who has been gone for over fifteen years. I close my eyes and try to catch my breath, but I can’t. My hand claws at my shirt, feeling for my heartbeat—it’s erratic and too fast. I try to envision waves crashing, one of my go-to visuals for calming myself down. No matter what, it’s like the water won’t cooperate.

I lay back on the table, throwing a forearm over my eyes and welcoming the pressure. Maybe I can forcibly close my eyes and I’ll be able toget a grip. Find the string that brings me back to reality, where I’m okay and things will most likely work out. My brain searches feverishly for the string, and I think I’ve found it when everything goes silent.

You were made to do hard things.

It’s what my mom used to tell me whenever I was hurt, struggling, or complaining about not being good enough at something. It was her go-to mantra: you were made to do hard things. She said it with such conviction, not an ounce of doubt to be found. Her words dripped with love and determination. It wasn’t a way to get me to run from an emotion or challenge, but to run at them with full speed instead.

You were made to do hard things.

I cry for myself, for my mom, for the adult relationship I’ll never have with her. Tears fall for the unknown, in gratitude for the doctor who spent time with me, for the man who helped me understand that accepting help doesn’t make me less.

The sobs subside as my hands press on my chest, feeling the air fill my lungs and then out again. I take my phone and text the person I need more than anything right now.

Me

i know it’s a school night

but want to go to the diner?

icecream and french fries on me

Wes

sure

you good?

not really but i will be

I text Brooks when I’m walking out to the car.

Me

hey, i’m grabbing some food with wes

i’ll be home in a little bit

Brooks

sounds good. be safe

He doesn’t ask me about seeing the doctor and I love him even more for that.

Chapter 48

Brooks

I’malmostasleepwhenLia crawls into bed, immediately putting her head on my chest. Before I can say anything or ask how the visit with the team doctor went, chest-heaving sobs shake the bed. Rocky moves from his spot at our feet, snuggling up against her back.

“Baby, what is it?” I ask, pulling her to me. I know her back is irritated, so I rub her forearm instead.

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