“Well, you could start with Devin. Do you think I’m stupid for letting him back in?”
“Do you think you’re stupid for letting him back in?”
“Nice deflection.”
“Thank you.” She nods, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
“I think it feels right. I think it’s the most right I’ve felt since before my dad died … hell, it’s probably the most right I’ve felt since before Devin left ten years ago. It’s like as soon as I opened my heart up to the possibility of letting him back in, all the remaining resentment and sadness over what happened with him just went away. Suddenly, the gaping hole in my heart wasn’t so empty anymore, and I like that feeling.” My shoulders relax as though I needed to get those words out.
“Sometimes in life, we have to go with our heart instead of our head,” Dr. Perry says, offering me a gentle smile “We have to trust that our heart will lead us on the right path, even if it’s not the path we originally expected to be on.” I nod, waiting for her to continue, waiting for her to give me the confirmation that I’ve already given myself. She smirks and shakes her head. “You’re not stupid, you’re human, and you’re in love.”
I suck in a sharp breath.
In love?
Am I in love?
Don’t get me wrong, my feelings are still strong … but in love?
“Don’t think too hard about that.” Dr. Perry scribbles something on her notepad before dropping it on the table between us. “It’s just an observation and not something you should be scared of. You’re an incredibly intelligent woman, Katie. You just managed to get off track, but I’m not really worried about you.”
“You’re not?” Really? Because I’m sort of worried about me.
“No.” Dr. Perry shakes her head and pushes a chunk of hair behind her ear. “You’ve got an amazing support system. I’ve watched you grow stronger every single time you’ve come in, and you’re starting to make tough choices without getting overwhelmed. Plus, when you walked in here earlier, you looked lighter than I’ve ever seen you look. You looked happy.”
“I am happy.”
“Good.”
“Can we talk about Wyatt now?”
Dr. Perry tosses her head back and laughs. “Absolutely! Let’s talk about Wyatt.”
“Am I leading him on by going to dinner with him?”
“No,” she states firmly. “You know what you want, and that’s Devin. What you’re giving Wyatt is closure, and I think it’s something that he deserves.”
Well, I didn’t think of it that way. “Closure, huh?”
“You didn’t get closure when Devin left you. He just took off, and you were stuck behind to pick up your own pieces.” I cringe when her words bring up an onslaught of memories—bad ones—but I get where she’s coming from. “It seems Wyatt still needs closure, and maybe one last dinner will help drill home the fact that you haven’t changed your mind.”
“Alright.” I nod. “How about Bailey?”
“Who’s asking the questions here?”
“You are,” I say, grinning.
“More than likely, Bailey feels guilty for the way she’s been pushing you on top of everything you’ve gone through. Cut her some slack. She’s your sister.”
“So next time I see her, I just hug her and tell her I love her?” Because that’s really what I want to do.
“I bet she would love that.”
“I bet you’re right.”
“Now it’s my turn.” Dr. Perry folds her hands in her lap, and the smile slowly falls. “Let’s talk about Andrew Drexler.”
The first thing I notice is that when she says his name, I don’t instantly panic. My body doesn’t freeze up and my blood doesn’t start to boil. “What about him?”
“Have you read his letter yet?”
It’s sitting on my dresser at home. “Nope.”
“Is there a reason why you haven’t?”
I’m scared. “I haven’t had time.” My words come out more like a question and less like the statement I was going for.
Dr. Perry notices. “Haven’t had time or haven’t made time?”
“I’ve just come really far … at least I feel like I have.”
“You have,” she confirms.
“And I don’t want him to set me back. I don’t want to go back to that place.”
Dr. Perry cocks her head to the side, her eyebrows furrowing. “You won’t.” Her words are laced with so much conviction that I almost believe her.
“How do you know?”
“Trust yourself, Katie. You’re ready for this, and I think it’s the closure that you need.”
She’s right.
I’ve felt so good these past couple of days, but something is still off—something that feels unresolved. Maybe it’s this. “Okay,” I say, pushing up from the couch. “But I better go do it now before I talk myself out of it.”
“By all means”—Dr. Perry stands and motions toward the door—“go get your closure.”
I slip on my coat, grab my purse and pull open the door, and then I turn back to Dr. Perry. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Katie.” The look of pride on her face is unmistakable, and it gives me that extra push I need. “I’ll see you next week.”
No goodbye is needed. I simply give her a smile and step out of her office, determined to get home so I can read that letter.
My arms hang loosely at my sides before I shake them out as though I’m preparing to go for a run. Everything inside of me is screaming to do this, to get this over with, but the blood pumping in my ears is making it difficult to concentrate.
Closing my eyes, I count to ten while taking several slow, deep breaths. When I open my eyes, they instantly land on a photo of Devin and me that I found in a shoebox tucked away in my closet. We were probably about ten years old. His arm is draped around my shoulders, mine wrapped around his back. We both have mud caked to our faces and he’s holding up a catfish. I’m not sure what it is, but there’s something about that picture—that memory—that gives me courage.
Pulling open the top drawer of my dresser, I pull out the letter that my mom gave me several days ago. The envelope is stark white but worn around the edges, a telltale sign that it’s been passed around and most likely opened numerous times.
Slipping my finger under the flap, I open the envelope and pull out the letter. My hands shake as I unfold it, and when I see handwriting scribbled across the paper, my heart nearly pounds out of my chest.
With the letter gripped in one hand, I situate myself on the bed, propping up on the pillows.
“Come on, Katie,” I whisper, giving myself one last pep talk. “You’ve got this.”
Dear Brenda,
I’m sorry doesn’t seem like enough, but I’ll say it anyway. I’ll repeat those words over and over again for as long as you need. I don’t expect your forgiveness, and it’s not something I’ll ever ask for, because I don’t deserve it. I hurt you in a way that no human being should ever hurt another human being, and for that I’m truly sorry.
There’s no excuse for my actions that night. I made a stupid decision and I got behind the wheel drunk. My lawyer tried to play it off that I’m scarred from my time served overseas, but I insisted that he stop. I didn’t allow him to play the same card that so many other soldiers use as an excuse. What I’ve witnessed and gone through while at war holds no bearing over my actions that night.
But I do want to tell you what happened because you deserve to hear. My buddy Tom and I went out for dinner. I hadn’t seen him since high school graduation and we were enjoying our time catching up. One beer led to another and then another, and before I knew it, I’d had close to seven beers. At the time, I thought I was good. Hell, I used to drink way more than that in college. But what I didn’t take into consideration was that I hadn’t had a lick of alcohol in over two years. Again, not an excuse, but I really want you to know what happened and why.