Letting out a frustrated sigh, I looked up at the white ceiling. “She was the first person I ever trusted. You know that?”

“I do.”

“Beverly was the first place I felt safe,” I said, more to myself than to her. “Not a house. Not a bed. Not even Arthur or Jenna.” The words tasted bitter as they left my mouth. “Just her.”

“And you think you ruined it.”

I gave a bitter laugh. “Didn’t I?”

Dr. Lemkin tilted her head. “You’ve been through a lot, Blake. Your foster history, the loss of your father figure⁠—”

“I thought I’d be over it by now,” I cut in. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “I used to be able to calculate everything. I’d memorize systems, patterns, routines. That’s how I survived the foster care system. Predict, adapt, survive. But with her, it was like trying to write equations in water. Everything changed too fast. And still, I couldn’t walk away.”

“You did walk away, though.”

“Yeah, well,” I muttered, the bitterness creeping into my voice. “I thought it was the right thing. I grieved like a moron and thought pushing her away would protect her.”

“Classic trauma response.”

“You don’t say,” I replied dryly.

Her lips twitched. “Do you still believe that?”

“Some days, yeah. I convince myself it was the right choice. Other days...I’d give anything to take it back.” A hollow laugh escaped me. “But I saw her face when they put me in that car. She didn’t come out. Nothing. That’s how I knew it was over.”

Dr. Lemkin’s eyes softened, but I couldn’t tell if it was pity or something else. “You still wear her hair tie,” she pointed out, nodding toward my wrist.

I glanced down at the pink fabric, stretched out but still clinging to my skin. “I guess it’s all I have left of her. I miss her,” I blurted. “And Arthur.”

She nodded slowly. “Missing doesn’t mean you’re broken, remember? It just means you cared. Losing people always hurts.”

“It didn’t feel like losing her. It felt like I took her heart out, smashed it, and then had the audacity to leave the mess on her porch. In a box. With a bow.”

“You were grieving, Blake,” she said, her voice softer now. “Your dad, your sense of safety, your idea of a future with her. You didn’t mean to hurt anyone. You know that deep down, don’t you? The thing is, if you don’t take the time to heal your wounds, you’ll always risk bleeding on those who had nothing to do with the cuts.”

I clenched my jaw and looked away. The words felt like they should be comforting, but they only made my chest tighten.

“What’s the hardest part right now?”