Page 50 of Traitor

I let out a bitter laugh. "If I knew, I wouldn't be here."

Her expression doesn't waver. "I think you do know. You're just not ready to admit it."

I look away, staring at the bookshelf, at the degrees framed on the wall, at anything but her. "I hate it. I hate that after everything he did to me, after all the ways he destroyed me, I still call for him in my nightmares like he's my goddamn savior." My voice cracks, raw and exposed. "Love destroyed me. He destroyed me."

Dr. Monroe tilts her head. "Did he?"

I snap my gaze back to her. "What?"

"Did Bones destroy you?" she repeats, voice steady. "Or did he actually disappoint you in the worst way possible because he first showed you how good it could be? You're here, stronger than ever. You're not broken, Temperance. You're not damaged. No one destroyed you. They did hurt you, though, and now you're healing."

The words land like a hit to the ribs.

I sit there, my breath caught in my chest, my mind racing through memories I've spent the last two years trying to bury. But no matter how much I've tried to focus on the betrayal, the pain, the way he threw me away, that isn't the full story.

The full story is eight months of happiness.

Eight months of laughter and warmth, of feeling like I had a home for the first time in my life. Eight months where I wasn't just an object to be used, but a woman who was seen.

He was the first man who never forced me. Never treated me like I owed him something just because he wanted me.

He never demanded my submission. He waited for it.

He let me choose him.

I close my eyes, letting the memories crash into me like waves against jagged rocks. Bones tracing patterns on my skin as I fell asleep beside him. His deep, steady voice calling me 'baby' in a way that made me feel like I was actually cherished. Loved. Wanted. The way he watched me from across a room like I was the only one in it.

I remember the way he kissed me. Slow, deep, like we had all the time in the world.

I remember the night he gave me my Ol’ Lady cut, how he had planned the whole party just for me, how he had whispered against my ear that I was his, not just in name, not just in status, but in every way that mattered.

And I realize... that's why I call for him.

Not because of the betrayal.

Because for eight months, he was my home.

For eight months, he was my rock, the one person I trusted completely. The one who made me believe I was worthy of something better. He was the first person to treat me like more than an object, to look at me and see something more than a body, more than a toy, more than just a girl who existed to be used and thrown away.

And then he threw me away.

A sharp, bitter breath escapes me. "I saw him as my savior."

Dr. Monroe's voice is gentle. "And in some ways, he was."

I clench my jaw. "Until he wasn't."

"Until he wasn't," she agrees. "That's why you call for him in your nightmares. Because at your core, in the part of your mind that still clings to survival, he was the one who made you feel safest. That kind of bond doesn't break overnight. It takes time for your subconscious to get the memo."

The air in the room feels heavy. I press my palms against my thighs, trying to ground myself, trying to accept what I already knew but refused to face.

I loved him.

And for eight months, he loved me.

That was real.

That was why his betrayal hurt so much. Still hurts.

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