Page 87 of Under Pressure

My throat is blocked, unable to form the words of accusation, of disappointment that want to come forth. That Brandon put in my head.

But just because he felt them doesn’t mean I have to too.

“Mom,” I stutter, deciding at the last second I can’t say anything about this over the phone. It’s not as black and white as Brandon made it out to be. I’d heard true regret in her voice when I’d overheard her speaking to Dan. And if he could forgive her…

“Mom,” I repeat, searching for something to say. “What did you think of Mia?” I blurt out, immediately regretting speaking the first thing that came to mind.

“Well, I just thought she was wonderful,” she gushes. “Polite. Smart. Nice. She brought out your fun side. Softened you. Are you thinking of asking her out?” She’s practically salivating over the phone in her eagerness.

“I—I might.”

“You like her?”

“I do.” I squeeze my eyes shut at the admission, waiting for a bolt of lightning or something to strike me, but nothing happens. I’m still sitting here, alone, parked in Brandon’s driveway, talking to my mom on speakerphone.

“That’s great, honey. I think she’ll say yes,” she whispers, as if it’s a secret. “And see if you can get her cupcake recipe. They were just to die for.”

Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.Hey, Mia. Remember how I rejected you the other week? Yeah, I was wondering if you want to go out and also, can I get your cupcake recipe for my mom?

“I have to go,” I tell her, wiping my palms on my jeans.

“Stop by for dinner soon. I’ll make enough for you to bring home leftovers.”

I hang up, trying to reconcile the loving, caring mother I know with the woman who kept me from my brothers, from Dan.

I can see how Brandon would feel betrayed, especially as the eldest. It probably seemed like a rejection of him just as much as his father. A sign that she wasn’t happy with whatever kind of life they had together, the four of them.

I know I need to talk to her about it, Dan too, but I need to get my head in order first.

It’ll require more than I can do myself, though. Something I’ve been avoiding for a long time.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Tyler

I stareat a painting of flowers in tones of muted blue and green, trying to decipher what exactly it is about it that makes it so bland. The colors? The subject matter? The genericness of it all?

The colors remind me of the walls of the lobby area of the Stress Lab. Mia said once she found it soothing, but all I can describe it as is boring. Then again, I’m in a therapist’s waiting room now. It’s not like you want to excite the people here.

“Tyler?” The psychologist pops her head out of her office, a warm smile on her face. “I’m Dr. Friedman. Or you can call me Candace.” She moves to shake my hand, her grip firm. “You can come in now.”

I stand and follow her in, taking a seat in a plush, oversized chair. She has a matching one on the other side of the small room. They’re both in a neutral blue-green, matching the waiting area. If it had been some kind of chaise lounge she’d expected me to drape myself over, I probably would have turned around and left.

“Thanks for seeing me so quick,” I tell her, tapping my thumb on my knee in short, staccato bursts.

“It was lucky my regular client at this time is on vacation this week.” Her voice is calm, outward appearance one of serenity—long hair braided back off her face and dressed in some kind of tunic and wide slacks. She reminds me of the description Mia gave me of the woman who helped train her on biofeedback. It’s why I picked her off the photo on her website. Speaking with her yesterday on the phone sealed the deal, her voice as melodic and reassuring as Mia’s is when she’s in the lab talking to her participants.

Being a psychology student myself, I’ve always theoretically understood the benefits of therapy, but never thought it applied to me. I was too strong for that.

Well, look at me now. Turns out I was stubborn, not strong. And it’s time for a change.

She flips open her notepad and scans the page before looking back up at me. “We spoke a little yesterday about why you chose to come here, going through the basics about your family and a girl you’ve been seeing, Mia.”

She says it neutrally, no judgment, which is exactly what I need right now. That was one of the things I hated about the therapist my mom made me see in high school. I always felt like he was scolding me.

How different would my life be if my parents had gotten me the right person to speak with to begin with?

I nod, forcing my leg to stop jiggling, breathing in and out in long, slow breaths.

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