Sadie
“And how does that make you feel?” my therapist asks, the corner of her lip curving in amusement.
I give her a blank stare, making her chuckle softly.
“No, really. I want to know. You said your life hasn’t been normal in a long time. How does this affect you? How does it make you feel?”
“Frustrated,” I admit, shifting in my spot on the leather couch. “I feel like my life has either been school, or spent getting better. I know the guys mean well, and I love how much they care about me, but I feel almost... smothered?” I lick my lips, feeling guilty at the admission. “There have been some... incidents in the past that've caused them to be on guard. But ever since the whole puking until I passed out thing, they’ve amped it up tenfold.”
For the first month, I didn’t care. I felt like I owed it to them to let them fuss over me. I did keep everything from them after all, letting things get as bad as they did.
But it’s been about two months since, and it’s almost summer break. I feel like I’ve missed out on so much, always being worried and focused on school, then on getting better, that I haven’t had any time for fun.
I’m going to go crazy if the summer is spent looking over our shoulders.
The funny thing is, the two biggest problems I’ve had all year are no longer there. Well, they are, but aren’t? It’s complicated.
After Tina got kicked out of Kingston and found out Preston really was done with her, her family sent her away to an all-girlsboarding college overseas. Rumor has it, they’re going to try to marry her off to someone over there once she’s spent some time getting the help she needs.
Guess her parents weren't aware of just how horrible their daughter really was. Rose colored glasses and all. They got quite the wake-up call when the Head Mistress and my husband paid them a visit when they called demanding Tina be let back in.
It’s still odd to walk through the school halls and not see her scowling face, to hear her cruel comments.
She’s been an issue in my life, even the guys’ lives, for so long, I don’t know if I should trust it.
My therapist thinks I have a little bit of PTSD, and that it’s normal after being tormented for so long. It’s something we’re working on. Another thing added to the long list of how fucked up I really am.
One of the things that sucks the most about getting the help I need is that I can’t be completely honest. She knows nothing about Bradly and all the bullshit he’s put me through. Collin says once they have him dealt with, I’ll be able to open up more to her if needed, but who knows when that will be.
Because that leads me to another reason why the stress is still in my life.
After Preston had his big fight with his dad, details of which had made me hate the man even more than I already did, Bradly Jones kind of just ... disappeared.
To the rest of the world, they think he’s gone overseas for business. That's what he wants them to believe. But Collin doesn’t trust it. He’s hired people to put a trace on his father, but the last information we have on him is that he left the country about three weeks ago, and we haven’t been able to get any hits on him since.
It’s not knowing where he is that has me worried. But there's a bit of comfort that Collin has people who will be able to tell the moment he steps foot back on US soil.
So for the first time in my life, I have no real reason to be this stressed out. Yet, no matter how much reassurance the guys give me, I still can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t over.
And I don’t think I will until, at the very least, Bradly is taken care of.
Collin is pissed that he didn’t get the chance to do it himself before he left and is beating himself up because of the stress it’s causing me. Preston feels guilty that he handled things the way he did without having a plan in place. He feels like he’s the reason his father left.
I had to tell him more than once to stop thinking that way because I care more about him being free of that monster than having to force himself to keep living that pain just for me.
Everything happened how it should have. It is what it is. All I care about is that I can breathe a hell of a lot better than before, even with those lingering worries.
I feel stupid for not trusting the guys with my thoughts and feelings because they’ve been amazing anytime I bring something up. Not telling me what I want to hear, but listening and being supportive.
“Sadie?” my therapist snaps me out of my daydream.
“Sorry.” I blink, shaking my head. “What were we talking about?”
She tilts her head to the side. “When was the last time you had fun? And I don’t mean sit down and watch a movie with your boyfriends, or friends, but really gone out and let loose?”
My brows furrow as I think of the last time I truly let go and had fun.
“Ahh,” I start, and she laughs.
