Page 62 of Little Did You Know

"Is she in the closet with you?" Hannah's hand shot out toward the door handle. I reached to stop her, but too late—the door swung open with a bang. "Oh my god!" Her gaze snapped between me and Olivia, understanding dawning in her widening eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm good." Olivia's voice was steady, but her fingers twisted in the towel she held.

"Come on, let's go get you cleaned up." Hannah's gentle tone with Olivia contrasted sharply with the look she shot me—part disappointment, part warning. As they passed, Hannah's shoulder brushed mine. The gesture said everything her silence didn't.

My hands wouldn't stop shaking. Every rule I'd built my life around—keep distance, stay in control, no attachments—was crumbling like sand through my fingers. I'd set the terms myself: not exclusive, no strings, no promises. So why did the mere thought of her with someone else feel like being stabbed?

I pressed my forehead against the cool window, trying to slow my breathing. Distance. I needed distance from Olivia. But even as I thought it, I knew it was like an alcoholic promising to stay away from bars—my body physically ached at the idea of not seeing her. When had she become my addiction?

Stepping out on the patio, I grabbed a beer from the open pool bar.

"What was that about?" Kat's voice cut through my thoughts. I turned to find her perched on a pool chair, one eyebrow raised in that therapist expression I knew too well.

"What was what?" I lifted the bottle to my lips, buying time, though we both knew exactly what she meant.

"You know what I'm talking about." She unfolded herself from the chair with careful deliberation—the way she always moved when she was preparing for a long conversation.

"Not here." I jerked my head toward the house, already moving. The last thing I needed was an audience for whatever conversation was coming. I led her through the house and into my office, shutting the door behind us.

"Well?" Kathryn settled into the leather chair, crossing her legs. The gesture was so familiar from our therapy sessions that my jaw clenched reflexively.

"I don't know what happened." The edge of my desk bit into my palms as I leaned against it. "I'm losing it."

"I wouldn't say you're losing it, but?—"

"You don't know what happened when I brought her to the house." My knuckles whitened against the mahogany.

Kathryn leaned forward, her practiced calm slipping just enough to reveal concern. "What happened?"

"I fucked her." Each word scraped raw in my throat. "I claimed her."

"Okay." Her voice remained steady, but her fingers tightened on the armrest. "Did she want it?"

"Yes, I made her say she wanted it." I pushed off the desk, pacing like a caged animal. "I made her ask for it. I made her say she was mine."

"What's the problem?" The question hung in the air between us, gentle but unavoidable.

My forehead pressed against the cool window glass. "She's not mine."

"Nick, I understand not wanting a relationship, but you are clearly in love with this girl. So, why are you fighting this?"

My hand raked through my hair as I paced to the window. The party continued below, oblivious to the walls crumbling around me. Love. The word alone made my chest constrict.

"This is deeper than what Victoria did, isn't it?" Kathryn's reflection in the window showed her leaning forward, elbows on knees—her classic 'we're getting to the real issue' pose.

When I didn't respond, she let the silence stretch, a technique I knew well. "Nick." Just my name, but weighted with years of friendship and understanding.

"What if I'm like him?" The words tasted like copper in my mouth, bitter and metallic. They hung in the air between us, heavy with two decades of unspoken fears.

"Nick, you are nothing like your father. Nothing."

My hands clenched the window frame until my knuckles went white. "What if she remembers that afternoon?" My voice dropped to a whisper. "What if she realizes I'm the reason she went home? That everything that happened to her traces back to me?" The guilt I'd carried for years felt suddenly heavier, as if Olivia's nightmares were physical things weighing on my shoulders.

"First, you are lucky enough to have had the opportunity to get out of a bad situation and into a loving one. The Ryan's loved you like their own; if you are like anyone, it would be like Mr. Ryan, not your father."

I turned to look at her. She was right. I was lucky.

"Second, who knows how Olivia will react when she remembers? It all depends on how she remembers it. Maybe you should both come to see me. You know, for a session. It could help with her nightmares."

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