I drew back, into the shadows, my heart pressing hot against my ribs.
He had come back.
He was real.
I was real.
I was real.
Dr. Sedwick’s office was above my favorite New Age shop and had the distinct smell of oils and burning incense that permeated the floors. It was a small office, with heavy leather furniture and enough books stuffed in glass-fronted cabinets to start a library.
I’d been to several therapists over the years, and Dr. Sedwick’s office was definitely my favorite. It was warm and cozy and felt like a father’s study, or at least what I imagined a father’s study to feel like.
Mine had never had one. In fact, my dad had never been around much at all. He and Mom had divorced when I was four, and then he dove into his work, traveling so much, I rarely saw him.
When I found out he’d killed himself while Mom and I had been held captive, I’d been numb to the news. I hadn’t seen Dad for months before I’d disappeared. It was like his death was a secondhand story I’d heard from a friend—the loss theirs, not mine.
I still felt guilty about not missing him.
“Good morning, Elizabeth,” Dr. Sedwick said when I stepped inside.
I’d been seeing Dr. Sedwick for over a year now, and though I always doubted the effectiveness of talking about my problems, I did feel lighter when I finished a session with him.
“Morning,” I replied, and made my way for the leather couch. I always sat on the right-hand side, wedged in the crook of the arm, the plaid throw draped over the couch a comforting warmth behind me.
“Give me one second.” He made a few more notes in his notebook before closing it and shutting the door. He came around the desk and sat in the leather chair across from me, a new notebook propped on his lap.
“How are you today?” he asked.
We started every session this way. My first time seeing him I’d said, “I’m fine.” I’d learned that when people asked me how I was, fine was what they wanted to hear.
Dr. Sedwick had seen straight through my BS, and asked me again, with a quirk of his eyebrow, a flicker of a smile. And he kept asking until I told him how I really was.
Now I cut straight to the truth.
“Confused. Happier. Hopeful.”
“Go on.”
I shrugged. “For the first time in a long time I feel like what happened in the past might finally start to make sense.”
He pursed his lips and nodded as he scribbled something in the notebook.
“So that’s where the hope comes from?” he asked. “And the happiness?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“Hope is a powerful thing. It’s like…” He trailed off and stared out the window, eyes narrowed against the sunlight. “Well, it’s like the flame in the darkness. You know?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“So where does the confusion come in?”
I raked my teeth over my bottom lip. Should I bring up Nick?
Dr. Sedwick beat me to it, though.
“Does this have anything to do with the boy staying at your house?”
I raised my brows. “Did Aggie call you already?”
He smiled. “You know how she is. She’s concerned.”
A clock ticked above the fireplace.
“Yes,” I answered. “All of the above has to do with him, actually.”
“He’s helping you figure out your past?”
“Yes.”
“Who is he, exactly?”
I swallowed, licked my lips. Dr. Sedwick knew parts of what had happened to me. But only parts. And none of the important ones.
“He… he’s from my past.”
The pen raced across the notebook.
“Does he know what happened to you?”
“Yes. I mean, somewhat.”
“How did you meet him?”
I shifted, tucking my feet beneath me. Should I tell him? Everything I said in here was supposed to be confidential, but secrets are powerful, and this was a pretty important one. The police had searched for clues to Nick’s identity when I’d arrived in the ER in his arms. And they’d found nothing.
Was Dr. Sedwick required to report who Nick was if I told him? Did the law trump patient confidentiality?
“I met him through a friend,” I answered.
“How do you feel about Nick now?”
“I want to be with him every second of the day. I can’t really explain why, though.”
“Does he feel the same way?”
“I don’t know.”
Dr. Sedwick scratched the back of his head as he thought, the pen still tucked between his index and middle finger. “Why has Nick reappeared in your life?”
“He’s just visiting.”
“Has he told you why he’s here?”
I frowned. Dr. Sedwick had never pried so much into one person’s place in my life. Never. And he knew how I felt about Evan, even.