Numb to the core, I’d found the kind of darkness I’ve never experienced before, with its void inviting me into the fold, promising to swaddle me against pain and tragedy. In that moment, there wasn’t a scary thing about it.

“What prompted you to venture outside?” he asks, as if the answer is simple. As if he’s not dredging up the words I can’t unsay to Liam.

The guilt I can’t outrun.

I want to squirm, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

“When was the last time you felt in control?” he asks, steering the conversation in a new direction, his voice gentler now, laced with persuasion.

“You mean…since I’ve been here?”

Never.

“I mean in your life, your body, your emotions.”

My lips part, but no answer comes.

“I imagine it’s been a while, but that’s what grief does, Novalee. It steals control and makes you powerless.”

“How do I get it back?” Instantly, I want to rewind time and tape my mouth shut.

“By understanding that it’s not about avoidance. Desire, grief, pain…” His fingers drum against the armrest. “Ignoring these emotions won’t make them disappear. They’ll just show up in other ways.”

“How so?”

“They can manifest as self-destruction, isolation, even resistance.”

“Resistance to what?” Unable to hide a scowl, I cross my arms. “To you?”

“Resistance to healing.”

“Oh, so you have the cure for that, do you?” I let out a mocking laugh. “That’s a good one.”

“Not a cure. A method.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

He nods, as if he understands. “Will you close your eyes for me?”

“Why?”

“Please, indulge me for a moment.”

Hesitation takes hold, but his patience lasts until my eyes flutter shut.

“Good,” he says. “I want you to think back to last night. You’re standing on the cliff. Tell me what you feel.”

Tilting my head back, I’m torn from the settee and thrust onto the icy ledge. “Snowflakes. They’re falling on my cheeks. I should be cold, but I’m not anymore.”

“Why aren’t you cold?”

“I’m not sure. The waves bring me comfort. I just feel…”

“Describe it.”

“I feel numb, and a…a sense of peace.”

“Let’s go back. Now you’re walking through the snow. What are you thinking about?”

“Sebastian.” His name escapes, raw on my tongue.

“Keep going,” he urges.

“I feel his ghost watching me.” Grief crushes my heart all over again, and my eyes pop open. “I don’t want to do this.”

Dr. Price studies me, peeling away my defenses, layer by layer. “You’re still standing on that cliff, Novalee. Even in this room.”

A blink sends hot drops down my face. “I don’t want to be.”

“Are you sure? Because you did try to jump, did you not?”