Page 62 of Possessive Vows

She tilts her head and studies me before leaning back, grabbing a water bottle off the floor, and offering it to me.

“Maybe we should reschedule. There’s no rush; my offer has no expiration date,” she says.

“Dimitri’s kids arrive in New York in two hours.”

I crack open the water bottle in time with her gasp.

“He has children? How many?”

“Three. The oldest is Tristan’s age. I have no clue what I’m doing, which is why I’m here.”

She smooths her braid with her fingers and shakes her head.

“I don’t know anything about being a mom either, so…”

I scoff and take a sip of water before speaking.

“I don’t expect them to accept me right away. From what I hear, they’re causing trouble because they’re angry and hurt over their mother’s death. It’s barely been a year.”

“Then how am I supposed to help?” she asks.

“They can’t get hurt on my watch, but with Feliks still lurking around…” I let my words hang in the air.

With a decisive nod, she claps her hand on her thigh and leans forward.

“Alright, let’s begin, then. Lesson number one: awareness and avoidance should always be your first choice.”

I nod in agreement.

“Play games with yourself, if you need to. Construct plausiblewhat ifscenarios and plan how you’d respond to them,” she says.

The water bottle crinkles in my fist.

She rises from her seat and kneels beside me.

“Don’t blame yourself for disassociating. It’s a trauma response. With time, therapy, and careful desensitization, you can work through it. For now, we’ll—”

“I don’t have time. I can’t keep the kids safe if I go catatonic,” I growl in frustration.

“I’m not a therapist, Camilla. I can’t—”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just so frustrating how I always check out when I’m triggered,” I snarl.

She pats my hand and chuckles.

“You don’t always check out, though, unless you claim throwing a vase at your brother’s head an act of disassociating,” she chuckles.

I stiffen. She’s right. I don’t always hide away inside my skull.

“Can you tell the difference in triggers and which will cause you to check out versus fighting?”

I rub my hand over my face and wrack my brain. After a few minutes of quiet, Loretta urges me to drink some water and moves to sit beside me on the bench.

“When you disassociated in front of me, it was always from a perceived threat or overwhelming mental load, not from a physical altercation.”

Her words strike home. I nod. My breakdown in the bathroom was because Dimitri tugged on my collar. Hope rises in my chest.

“I think I’ll fight back if there’s violence, but…”

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