Page 93 of Cold Front
Dr. Matthews nodded. “But something changed.”
I swallowed hard.
She let a beat of silence pass before asking, “Did you two have a disagreement?”
“No.”
“Then what’s different?”
I clenched my jaw, staring at a spot on the floor. “He’s just… not around as much.”
She considered that. “Not around or keeping his distance?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “Does it matter?”
Dr. Matthews was quiet for a moment. “It does if it matters to you.”
My chest tightened.
She leaned forward slightly. “You’ve been careful with people for a long time, Niall.” Her voice was gently firm. “Keeping them at a distance. Not getting too attached.”
I let out a harsh breath, shaking my head. “That’s not?—”
Dr. Matthews didn’t argue, didn’t call me out on the lie I was about to tell. She just gave me space.
And I was so goddamn tired of holding everything in.
“I shouldn’t have let them come,” I whispered. The words tasted like rust. Like something broken.
She didn’t look away. “Who?”
“Mom and Dad.” My fingers curled into fists. “If I didn’t have that game… if I hadn’t—” My throat tightened. “They wouldn’t have been on that road.”
The silence felt heavier than the weight I carried in my chest.
“I know it wasn’t my fault,” I forced out. “I know that.” But the words felt hollow. “Doesn’t change the fact that if I hadn’t—” I swallowed hard. “They would still be here.”
Dr. Matthews let the moment settle before she spoke, her voice steady, unwavering. “You’ve turned their loss into a debt you think you owe.”
I stiffened.
She didn’t stop. “You believe that if it weren’t for you, they wouldn’t have been on that road. So you’ve spent years punishing yourself. Holding back. Keeping people at a distance. Because if you don’t let yourself care too much, you don’t have anything to lose.”
A sharp breath scraped my throat.
Her voice softened, but it didn’t waver. “But grief doesn’t work like that, Niall. Loss doesn’t wait for permission.”
My chest ached.
“You think closing yourself off keeps you safe,” she continued. “But it doesn’t. It just keeps you alone.”
I swallowed hard, my fingers flexing against my thighs.
“And now,” she said carefully, “someone got close.”
I clenched my jaw, staring at the floor.
She didn’t push. “And it scared you, didn’t it?”
