There it is. The truth. Raw and bloody and sitting between us like an open wound.
Dr. Martha doesn’t look surprised.
She never does.
Instead, she leans forward just a little, her voice gentle but firm. “Madison, you’ve built your life around protecting yourself from loss, but the reality is, you’re still losing. You lost Jaxon when you walked away, and now, you’re here, hurting, because leaving didn’t save you from the pain. It just gave you a different kind of heartbreak, one you controlled because you caused it yourself.”
I shift in the chair, the leather cool against the backs of my thighs despite the warmth of the office. My nails dig into thesleeves of my hoodie, my fingers twisting the fabric like it’s the only thing anchoring me to reality.
Dr. Martha watches me with that calm, knowing expression, the one that makes it impossible to hide—even from myself. She asks the question again, her voice soft, steady. “What do you want, Madison?”
My throat tightens.
This is it.
This is the moment I have to stop lying—to her, to myself, to everyone.
I drop my gaze to my lap, where my hands grip my own sleeves so hard, my knuckles are white. I try to unclench, to breathe, but my chest feels like it’s caving in, like the weight of my own truth is pressing down on me too hard, too fast.
What do I want?
I want him.
I want Jaxon Montgomery in every way a person can want someone else.
I want his stupid smirk when he catches me staring at him. I want his dimple popping out when he teases me. I want the way his voice gets all low and serious when he tells me he’s not going anywhere, even when I keep pushing him away.
I want the way he kisses me like I’m something precious, like I’m his—even when I’ve never given him a single good reason to believe that.
I want the way he looks at me—like I matter, like I could be more than the shattered pieces of my past.
Tears burn at the back of my eyes, but I blink hard, forcing them away.
Because the truth is, I don’t deserve him.
He gave me everything, every part of himself—his time, his love, his future. He risked things for me, transferred schools for me, put his own goddamn dreams on the line because of me.
And I left.
I destroyed him, the way I destroy everything.
So what right do I have to want him?
I suck in a slow, unsteady breath, my chest aching with the weight of it all.
Finally, I force the words out, the ones I’ve been burying, the ones that feel like they might kill me.
“I want him,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I want Jaxon. But more than that, I want to be comfortable where I am, with who I am. I want to stop staying closed off. I want to have real friendships and relationships with others without always feeling so full of anxiety and always jumping to the worst possible scenario in my mind.”
Dr. Martha doesn’t react right away. She just waits, giving me space to sit in my own words, to let them settle like something permanent.
And maybe that’s the thing.
Maybe it is permanent.
Maybe it always has been.
When she finally speaks, her voice is gentle. “Then we need to figure out how you can stop that from happening.”
