Book 1 - Page 62 (1/2)

My mother nodded.

”When you have what will surely not be an exhaustive list but a strong start,” he went on, ”you can sit down with Eva and discuss strategies for addressing those concerns - strategies you can both live with comfortably. For example, if not hearing from Eva for a few days troubles you, perhaps a text message or an e-mail will alleviate that.”

”Okay.”

”If you like, we can go over the list together.”

The back-and-forth between the two made me want to scream. It was insult to injury. I hadn't expected Dr. Petersen to smack some sense into my mom, but I'd hoped he would at least take a harder line - G.o.d knew someone needed to, someone whose authority she respected.

When the hour ended and we were on our way out, I asked my mom to wait a moment so I could ask Dr. Petersen one last personal and private question.

”Yes, Eva?” He stood in front of me, looking infinitely patient and wise.

”I just wondered...” I paused, needing to swallow past a lump in my throat. ”Is it possible for two abuse survivors to have a functional romantic relations.h.i.+p?”

”Absolutely.” His immediate, unequivocal answer forced the trapped air from my lungs.

I shook his hand. ”Thank you.”

When I got home, I unlocked my door with the keys Gideon had returned to me and I went straight to my room, offering a lame wave to Cary, who was practicing yoga in the living room to a DVD.

I stripped off my clothes as I crossed the distance from my closed bedroom door to the bed, finally crawling between the cool sheets in just my underwear. I hugged a pillow and closed my eyes, so tired and drained I had nothing left.

The door opened at my back and a moment later Cary sat beside me.

He brushed my hair back from my tear-streaked face. ”What's the matter, baby girl?”

”I got kicked to the curb today. Courtesy of a f**king note card.”

He sighed. ”You know the drill, Eva. He's going to keep pus.h.i.+ng you away, because he's expecting you to fail him like everyone else has.”

”And I keep proving him right.” I recognized myself in the description Cary had just given. I ran when the going got tough, because I was so sure it was all going to end badly. The only control I had was to be the one who left, instead of the one who was left behind.

”Because you're fighting to protect your own recovery.” He lay down and spooned against my back, wrapping one leanly muscular arm around me and tucking me tight against him.