Page 66 of Push My Buttons
The word emerges raspy and barely audible, but unmistakably there. A real word, formed by my vocal cords, shaped by my tongue and lips.
Dr. Levine's smile is radiant. "Wren," she says, her voice thick with emotion. "That was incredible."
Tears burn behind my eyes, a complex mix of pride and fear and relief washing through me. I've spoken. After almost twenty months of silence, I've reclaimed one tiny piece of my voice.
"How does it feel?" Dr. Levine asks.
I touch my throat, surprised by the lack of pain. I'd expected it to hurt, had braced for the phantom pressure of hands closing around my windpipe. But there's nothing—just the slight rasp of disuse.
"Okay,"I sign, still too overwhelmed to try speaking again."Scary, but okay."
"That's a tremendous breakthrough," she says, making a note in her pad. "We won't push further today. But I want you to practice at home—just one word at a time, when you feel safe. Perhaps with Jace and Theo, if you're comfortable."
The thought sends a nervous flutter through my stomach. Speaking in front of them feels more intimidating somehow than doing it here in the clinical safety of Dr. Levine's office.
"They'll be proud of you," she says, reading my hesitation correctly. "This is a significant step in your recovery."
I nod, knowing she's right. They've supported every tiny victory, celebrated each step forward no matter how small.
"Before we end for today," Dr. Levine says, glancing at the clock, "I want to circle back to the memory fragment about your attacker. You mentioned he said 'he' would never let you betogether. Do you have any theories about who this third person might be?"
I shake my head."The only man in my life then was Lucien,"I sign."And I wasn't dating anyone."
"Could it be someone who wanted to date you? Someone who perceived your brother as an obstacle?"
The question sends an unexpected chill down my spine. Something about it rings true, but I can't grasp the connection.
"Maybe,"I sign."But I can't remember who."
Dr. Levine nods, making another note. "Keep sitting with that feeling of familiarity about the hair, the gestures. Sometimes our bodies remember what our minds try to protect us from."
Our session ends soon after, with Dr. Levine scheduling our next appointment. As I gather my things, she touches my arm lightly.
"You're making remarkable progress, Wren," she says. "Not just with your memories, but with reclaiming your life. That takes extraordinary courage."
I smile, genuinely touched by her words. Before I started this journey, I would have dismissed such praise. Now, I'm starting to believe it might be true.
When I exit the office, Theo is waiting in the reception area, scrolling through his phone. He looks up immediately, his face lighting up at the sight of me. The warmth in his expression makes my heart skip.
"Hey, you," Theo says, pocketing his phone and standing to embrace me. His arms wrap around me securely, and I lean into his warmth, allowing myself a moment of pure comfort. "How'd it go today?"
I pull back just enough to sign,"Good. Really good."
His eyebrows lift in interest. "Yeah? Want to tell me about it, or wait until we're home with Jace?"
Home. The word echoes in my mind, reminding me of what I just accomplished in Dr. Levine's office. I hesitate, wondering if I should try again, if I should let Theo be the first to hear my voice after all these months. But the busy waiting room suddenly feels too exposed, too public for something so intimate.
"Home,"I sign instead."I want to tell you both together."
He nods, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Whatever you want, sweetheart." The nickname still makes me smile. "Jace texted. He's making dinner, which means we should probably pick up backup takeout on the way."
I laugh silently, my shoulders shaking. Jace tries so hard in the kitchen, but his culinary skills are... limited at best. It's become a running joke between the three of us.
The ride back to the apartment is comfortable, Theo filling the silence with updates about his day at work, his hand occasionally finding mine across the center console. His thumb traces absent patterns on my skin, the casual intimacy making my heart swell.
Six weeks. That's how long has passed since everything changed, since Jace and Theo crashed into my carefully compartmentalized life and refused to leave. Sometimes it feels like they've always been there; other times, I wake up startled to find two warm bodies in my bed instead of just my own.
When we arrive home, the smell of something burning greets us at the door.
