“When you say you can’t go through that again, do you mean giving your child to another family because the situation at the time forced you to make that choice? Or do you mean in a more general sense?”
“In general. Life is fragile. Anything could happen to the child.” I’d known this was a possibility before I became pregnant with Amelia, and it hadn’t bothered me then. It’s a risk all parents face whether a child is biologically theirs or adopted. But the truth to it hits harder after giving up the rights to my daughter.
“That’s true. Having children is scary when you think about it in those terms. And there’s nothing wrong with not wanting more children. But I’m wondering if there’s more to it than just you ending things with Troy.”
I lift my shoulders in an easy shrug, not allowing myself to squirm on the couch in response to her knowing gaze. “He lost his best friend to PTSD last year.”
I see in the brief glimpse of emotion that slips onto her face that Colton had been part of her life too. That makes sense. She went to school with Troy, which means she would have also known Colton and Olivia.
“I just figure Troy and Olivia would be better together than Troy and me. He adores Olivia’s daughter,” I explain. “They’re already a family.”
Robyn leans back in her chair. “Did Troy tell you that he would rather be with Olivia than you?”
“No. But why wouldn’t he? They’ve been best friends since they were kids.”
A small smile appears on Robyn’s face, a flash of nostalgia creasing the corners of her eyes. “In school, we always called them The Three Musketeers. You rarely saw one without the other two. Or at least it was that way until Olivia and Colton became a couple.” Robyn’s smile eases away. “So you think Troy and Olivia should be a couple because they’ve been best friends for forever?”
“Not just because they’re best friends, but because they’re perfect for each other.” Saying it aloud sounds less convincing than it did in my head.
“And does Troy agree with this?”
“He didn’t when I broke up with him, but maybe he’s changed his mind.” Now that I’ve practically pushed Olivia and him together.
“And what if he hasn’t?”
I shrug again, giving my shoulders quite the workout. “It doesn’t matter. Troy got tired of me always breaking things off with him. According to him, I push away people I love.”
Robyn’s head tilts to the side, her eyes diving deep into my soul, searching for the answers I’m not sure I even know. “Is he right? Do you keep pushing the people you love away?”
I open my mouth to say they leave me, but Troy is right. Granny didn’t intentionally leave me. Amelia didn’t leave me; I gave her away for her own good. Only my parents gave up on me.
When it comes to pushing away people I love, only Troy fits in that category. I didn’t push my late husband away. I’d tried to escape him for my daughter’s sake and mine. “No. I only pushed Troy away,” I tell Robyn.
“Do you love Troy?”
I hang my head, the sound of his name an arrow shot through my heart.
I lift my eyes to Robyn’s. “I do.” No point denying it. It’s not as if she’s going to tell him. They aren’t in middle school anymore. She’s a therapist. A professional.
“Did you tell him you love him?”
I shake my head.
“Why didn’t you?” There’s no judgment in Robyn’s tone, but I do wonder how much of her interest in the answer has to do with her personally knowing Troy.
Why didn’t I tell him?I close my eyes for a moment, exploring the question and answer from several different angles. “Because…because I’m not good enough for him. I’m damaged.” There. I’ve said it.
“Are you damaged?” Robyn asks. She has that professional challenge in her eyes I’ve seen numerous times during our sessions. A challenge that has me questioning my own assumptions about myself. “The woman I see sitting in front of me isn’t damaged. She’s growing stronger and is dealing with some of her past issues so she can be a strong and healthy and happier woman. She has worked hard to be where she is today. You’ve worked hard, Jess.”
I bend down and stroke Bailey. Robyn’s right. I might still have dents that haven’t yet been removed from my previously damaged shell, but I’m not the same woman who left Beckley more than six months ago.
I’ll probably always have dented armor, but it doesn’t mean I’m the mangled wreck I once was.
“My late husband enjoyed making me feel unworthy.” A fact I’ve shared with Robyn during one of our earlier sessions. “He did a great job at it, and I guess I learned his lesson too well. I…”I…what?I left prison feeling unworthy of love. My late husband did that to me. He made me doubt myself. Made me feel weak and helpless.
I’d clung to that lie even when Troy told and showed me countless times that he loved me. I’d clung to that lie even when Troy showed me again and again and again he is nothing like my late husband.
Instead of telling Troy I loved him, I kept the truth from him. I tried to protect myself from him eventually believing I wasn’t good enough for him. I let the protesters feed that lie until it consumed me. And I let myself cling to those self-destructive feelings Wayne ingrained in me.
