Page 120 of Revolve
Dylan:Am I allowed to say that?
It’s been three days since my conversation with Dylan when Scarlett tells me he stopped by the dorm while I was out. My boyfriend clearly doesn’t know what taking it slow means. But as much as I’d love to forget everything and jump back into my his arms, I know this space is good for us. He probably thinks I’m being stubborn—that taking things slow after everything we’ve been through is pointless—but it’s the only way I know to make him really think about what he’s doing. About what he’s losing.
“Ms. Romanova?” The receptionist calls my name.
I booked an appointment with Dr. Toor after Scarlett urged me that it was finally time. Shaking out my hands, I fight the need to clench them and follow the receptionist down the hall into the room with the lavender couch. I’ve been here countless times, but today is different.
She’ll ask about skating. She always does. But that’s not why I’m here today.
“Sierra.” Dr. Toor greets me with a warm smile. “It’s very nice to see you after our last session. I understand you’ve been skating again?”
She’s always been like this, getting into the meat of the issue before I can even think to suppress it. “Yeah. I’ve been competing for a few months now.”
“That’s great to hear. I remember how badly you wanted to get back on the ice. But I imagine returning to competition is bringing up some strong feelings, and since I’ve been away, you haven’t visited the therapist I referred to you.”
Dr. Toor has seen me through the worst moments of my life. My parents wanted me to have someone to talk to, so they started bringing me here when I was a kid. I’d show up every few weeks, unloading my frustrations over missed jumps and failed rotations. I’m pretty sure she’s witnessed every meltdown I’ve ever had over this sport. So, after she left for maternity leave, I didn’t want to go back to square one with a new therapist.
“I think I’m handling it as best I can,” I say. “Between propranolol, breathing techniques, and my skating partner—my boyfriend—it’s helped a lot in handling it.”
I know what I need to talk about. And for once, it’s not skating.
“I’m glad to hear that,” she says, crossing one leg over the other. “This is the first time I’m hearing about a relationship from you. Is that something you want to touch on? Balancing a professional and personal relationship with the same person?”
I want to back out. To pretend I’m fine, like I did during those last few sessions after the accident. “Pretty good,” I murmur.
“Why pretty good? Why not great? Or just okay?” she prods.
I exhale. “Because I’m scared.” The words come out quiet. “Dylan is taking this massive step by deciding to leave hockey to skate with me, and I worry he’ll regret it.”
“And has Dylan expressed regret? Has he ever made you feel like he’s second-guessing his choice?”
“No,” I say immediately. “But we’ve only been doing this for a few months. I know what it’s like to be trapped in the cycle of winning and losing. People grow resentful. I’d hate for him to wake up one day and realize I made him give up hockey.”
She tilts her head. “As a hockey player I’m sure he knows a thing or two about winning and losing. But is that a quality you think he possesses? To blame you?”
I shake my head. “Never. He’s always reassuring me, supporting me, never letting me doubt him. He says he doesn’t care about the scores. He just wants to skate withme.”
Her lips curve. “And yet earlier, you saidhe decidedto leave hockey. But now you’re saying he’ll resentyouformakinghim. Why put that pressure on yourself? If he made this choice on his own, wouldn’t he be the one responsible for it?”
I hate when she makes sense. “Dylan’s making this huge decision to skate with me, and I think he’s only doing it because he thinks I need him to. But I’m worried that if he pours his entire self into this—into me—I won’t be enough.” I hesitate before adding, “Like he’s water pouring into my glass, only to find out it’s cracked in a dozen places.”
“I can understand that your past can make you feel unsteady. But what makes you feel like you’re not enough? That you possess all thesecracks?”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. “I don’t know. Every time I think about it, I feel like I’m too much and not enough at the same time. The accident changed me. Dylan’s going to have to deal with so much more than he signed up for. If my ex-partner could barely handle the old me, the new one is ten times harder. Nobody wants to constantly cater to someone’s anxiety and PTSD—especially when I’m surrounded by my triggers every day.”
Dr. Toor jots something down. “Okay. Let’s unpack this. But first, your fears aren’t irrational, Sierra. After everything you’ve been through, it’s commendable how much you’ve overcome. But humansare complex. Our brains are complex. We spend a lifetime trying to understand ourselves. So why do you think someone wouldn’t want to take the time to know you?”
“Because people don’t want to do that.”
“What people?”
“Everyone,” I say with a sigh. “Justin. I wasn’t enough for him to stay, and since he left, he’s doing great. He and his new partner made it to the Grand Prix. Dylan and I didn’t.”
“So, you think Justin removing you from his life helped him achieve his goals? Didn’t you two make it to the Grand Prix together a few years back?”
“We won twice. But that was before—” I tap my temple.
“Before the accident,” she finishes gently. “And because of the accident—because of what you’ve been through—you think you’re less worthy? That you became … a burden?”
