We were silent for a long time after that, eyes locked, my body warming from the sunshine and Gideon’s proximity.
Eventually, Gideon said, “We can all go together. That might be really good for us, actually. Not only to talk about... unpleasant things, but about other things too. Complicated things.” He kissed my head again before pulling away. “Though I still think you’d benefit from private sessions every once in a while.”
Ducking my head, I nodded. “We could all go together. And once I’m more comfortable, we could reassess. Right?”
“That sounds reasonable.” He gazed out over the backyard. “Are you comfortable with Nadia, or would you prefer a different counselor?”
“Nadia’s nice,” I said, and he nodded.
“Okay.”
We sat in silence so long I wondered if we’d stay that way forever. When he reached out and took my hand, he twined our fingers snugly. We both sighed. Maybe staying here forever didn’t sound so bad.
Chapter Five
So therapy was a thing now. I met with Nadia, Raphael’s Committed and Noel’s therapist, three times a week. She was soft-spoken, kind, and wasn’t condescending like my other therapists had been. I’d liked her when I’d sat with Noel during his sessions all those months ago. I liked her now, even though I hated being in her office.
We hadn’t talked much about my time in Purgatory. The first few weeks were spent getting comfortable with one another and building trust. We talked about the loss of my parents—parents I never really knew. I told her about the foster families and group homes. It took several sessions to fully expound on my time with Ms. Janet, but I’d never fully faced the reality of growing up in an abusive situation.
It hurt. Admitting that the only mother I’d ever known had never loved me. She thought she did, and she’d believed that every single punishment she dealt was to help me. But that wasn’t love. That was damage and hurt and fear. Not love. As much as I’d grown to hate her, acknowledging her lack of love made me ache. Because for all her anger and abuse, I had loved her. She’d been the only mother I had.
But the past was past.
Since Nadia was Noel’s counselor as well, we met with her together sometimes. It was nice not facing her—and my demons—alone. Jai was always willing to accompany me, and Gideon never hesitated to hold my hand every time I cried or raged.
The first time she asked about Purgatory, I told her about Blue. Jai was with me. I sat so close to him I was practically in his lap. Ever since the bond had sealed, I found it extremely difficult to be in the same room as him and not touch him somehow.
Skin-to-skin contact was important for the bond, Nadia had said once when I’d confided my concern over my clinginess. Our hormones and emotions were adjusting to the bond, and it was normal to want to be close as much as possible. Jai didn’t seem to mind when I tracked him down, needing a cuddle or a kiss.
But talking about Purgatory didn’t inspire kisses. I shifted on the couch, creating distance between Jai and me. Our hands remained clasped, but I couldn’t bear to accept his embrace when speaking about things that should never be spoken aloud.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Nadia said as I stared out the window behind her. “You didn’t kill him. The Seven did.”
“I could have saved him,” I whispered. “I could have sent him away. I could have told him not to be my friend. Lucifer targeted him because he was the only thing in that place I loved. And he killed him because of what I refused to do. If I’d obeyed—”
“You are not responsible, Riley. You have enough guilt on your shoulders. Don’t carry guilt for actions you never took.”
“I woke with his intestines wrapped around my legs!” I snapped as my vision flickered red. “They eviscerated him. They raped him and cut him up and covered me with his guts. He hadn’t done anything! His sin was being kind to me. Don’t tell me not to shoulder guilt for that!”
The rope between Jai and me thrummed. It said calm and love and safe, safe, safe. I blinked the red from my vision and swiped at the tears cooling on my cheeks. Jai ground his teeth, his anger a near physical aura radiating from him. Yet the bond was placid and soothing. He was better at control than I was. I had a feeling my emotions were crashing over him mercilessly. I did my best to lock it down.
“It’s okay,” he said with a squeeze of my hand. “You don’t have to hide from me. I can take it.”
“I know,” I said. “But you shouldn’t have to.”
We didn’t talk about Blue again for a long time.
Meeting with Nadia left me gutted more often than not, but as much as it broke me, it knitted me back together again. Piece by tiny piece.
Once a week, we visited with Nadia all together as a family. It wasn’t exactly relationship counseling, but it helped give perspective in certain areas. And if there were miscommunications or arguments, Nadia helped us navigate them in a safe environment.
It wasn’t always enjoyable. There were four of us, and we were all, to a certain extent, stubborn. We fought. We picked and poked at each other. There was jealousy and frustration that came with our relationship dynamics. But it was nice having a place where we could hash it out with someone unbiased, someone accustomed to our particular brand of crazy.
It was a few days before Christmas when I finally gathered enough gumption to click on Danny’s contact and type out a text. I typed several versions but erased each one. Nothing I said quite encompassed all I wanted to communicate. Eventually, I settled for something simple and succinct.
Riley: Hey.
I stared at my phone for a long time, waiting for the confirmation that he’d read the message. Then I waited even longer for his reply. My stomach was in my throat. My heart was in my toes. I felt sick.
Then he replied, and I wished I’d never texted him in the first place.
Danny: Hey?
Danny: Seriously?
Danny: Two months of radio silence, and you say hey?
Danny: Screw you, Riley. You dick.
Tears blurred the words on the screen, and I could barely see to respond.
Riley: I’m sorry.
My phone vibrated in my hand, and my screen lit up with Danny’s contact photo, a picture we’d taken during one of our library study sessions. I almost rejected the call. I almost pressed that red phone icon. Because hearing his voice, his anger, threatened to break me.
But he was my best friend. At least, he had been. So I accepted the call and lifted the phone to my ear. I didn’t say a word. Neither did he. We breathed into the phone. Then his inhale hitched.
“Fuck your sorry,” he said. “How could you do this? I thought we were friends. You lied to me. You lied, and our friends died. And then you disappeared.
“I was there when they buried Sharon. I watched Bethany be put in the ground. But you weren’t there. You didn’t call. You didn’t text. You just… and now, you’re sorry? Goddamn it, Riley.”
His voice was thick and wet, like the tears streaming down my cheeks. I sobbed into my hand as he raged at me. And I let him because he was right. I’d lied. I was the reason Sharon and Bethany were dead. I hadn’t called. He had every right to hate me.