I run my finger over the trackpad, tracing circles with the cursor. “So, how does this work exactly?”
Alistair leans back in his chair and steeples his hands in front of his chest. “Well, therapy can be whatever you need it to be. For some people it’s about talking through what they’restruggling with, others like to learn techniques for coping with stress, anxiety, or low mood.”
“Carmen thinks I’m depressed,” I tell him, mostly because I want to see if he’ll agree.
Alistair just looks at me with clear eyes. “Are you?”
My finger stops tracing the trackpad. “I, uh, I don’t know.” My heart flips. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I can do this.” I go to click off the call, but Alistair’s voice stops me.
“Freya,” he says, calmness etched into his very being. “Just talk to me.”
I slump back in the chair and twist my hair in my fingers. My knee jitters up and down, making the laptop shake, and Alistair’s calm demeanor hits my agitated state like a cold front. “What am I supposed to say? That I was forced to leave the men I love? That I miss them so much it feels like I’m breathing underwater?”
Alistair gives a slow nod. “What else?”
I press my cracked lips together, my heartbeat slowing. “I keep having flashbacks to when I was a child. I feel like I spend so much time lost in the past that even when I’m here, in the present, it’s as if I’m not real. Things are happening around me but I’m not quite there.” I stare past the screen. “Like I’m a ghost.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
My gaze meets Alistair’s, the hollowness in my chest gaping. “Like I want to scream. Just to see if anybody will come.”
Alistair folds his fingers together. “Sounds lonely.”
I rub my hand up and down my thigh.
“I met my mother five weeks ago. We asked her questions about the case but other than that I hardly said a word to her.” My mother is another thing I can’t get my head around. I didn’t really have time to process meeting her before I ran and now, I’llprobably never see her again. I feel like I should be more upset about that. Or angry. Or anything really other than just numb.
Alistair takes my change in subject with ease. “Does that bother you?”
I shrug. “She’s my mother. I should have questions. I should want to get to know her.”
“And you don’t?”
I squint. “No, I do. It’s just, she’s a stranger. It felt like she was too far away to reach.” I shake my head. “I don’t know if that makes any sense.”
Alistair’s smile is soft, understanding. “It does. Relationships, especially estranged ones, take time. I wouldn’t be too hard on yourself for not instantly feeling that connection.”
During the chaos with Zach, River’s friend Jack took my mother to a safehouse. I don’t even know where she is, so I very much doubt we’ll ever have the time to develop a relationship, but I nod anyway.
“Talking about relationships,” Alistair says, “you said you ran from the men you love. That couldn’t have been easy.”
My jaw pops. “I didn’t have a choice, my brother threatened their lives and Oz’s sister was in danger.” I still wake up to nightmares of Zach holding a needle filled with cyanide to Layla’s neck.
“I imagine they’re worried about you.”
I scoff. “They’ll be mad at me. Really fucking mad.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I broke my promise.”
Alistair tilts his head slightly, his eyes pinching. “We’re only human, Freya. We all break promises on occasion.”
“I don’t.” I’ve only ever made three promises. Never take a life, never abandon my sister, and never run from the guys again.
The second I almost broke, the third is shattered, but I refuse to ever break the first. I will not become what my father tried to make me.
I will not be a murderer.
