Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
AFTER
Dr. Samuel Price’s office was one of my favorite places to be. He didn’t subscribe to one set of beliefs or styles, and there were little quirks all around the place. They changed constantly, too, so even if you went there and didn’t say a word, you’d be entertained the whole time.
Too bad he was in New York now. Our sessions had to happen over video, the laptop propped on my bed while I sat cross-legged, squinting to make out the new additions behind him.
“Is that a Buddhist Santa statue?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the blurry shelf.
Samuel reached out and quickly moved it out of frame. “I wasn’t aware it was Avoidant Tuesday.”
I rolled my eyes, but with a smile. “How can you expect me not to talk about that?”
He gave me a patient look. “What’s on your mind, Noah?”
“Not much.”
“Last time we spoke, you were having a hard time with the property management. How’s that going?”
I sighed tiredly. “It sucks. I’m never sure if I’m doing it right. But it is what it is, right? It’s my responsibility.”
“Just yours?” he offered.
“Yeah, Sam. Who else’s?”
He stared, asking without words for me to answer. I shrugged and looked away.
“What about Atticus?”
My gaze drifted to the drum set now sitting in the corner of my room, my chin propped on my palm. “Things are still weird between us. They’re getting better. We have these little moments when everything feels good again, but then something shifts, and I freeze up. I can’t act normal.”
“What happens?”
I rubbed my face, trying to find the words. “He’s smiling—and then suddenly he’s not. And I get it in my head that I messed up. Said the wrong thing. Did something I shouldn’t have. Then I spiral, trying to figure out how to fix it, how to make him smile again.”
Samuel leaned his chin on his hand. “What makes you think that’s your responsibility?”
“Be so for real, Sam. How could it not be? I’m the one who fucked up. I should be the one fixing it.”
He leaned back in his chair. “You two are in a relationship. That means two people have to work to make it last. This isn’t all on you.”
“Atty’s trying. Just the fact that he’s here…” I looked down at my knees, tugging at a loose thread on my sweats. “He’s trying.”
“And you’re not?”
“I am!” The words came too fast, too sharp. “I’m trying all the fucking time. I just—I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to get us back to how things were before I ruined everything.”
“Ah.” He clicked his tongue, nodding slowly, giving me one of those infuriating little smiles. “There it is.”
“What? What the fuck does that mean?”
“I’m about to give you a hard truth. You ready for it?”
I shifted and gave a reluctant nod.
“You can’t go back,” he said plainly.
I blinked.
“Life doesn’t work in reverse.” He paused, letting that sink in.
A lump formed in my throat. So that was it? Just give up? Let go? Was I supposed to believe things would never be good again?
“I can see you spiraling,” he said gently.
I met his eyes. “It’s not exactly what I wanted to hear.”
“That’s not what therapy is for. If you can’t go backward, what can you do?”
I stared out the window. “Go forward.”
He nodded slowly, silently.
“I don’t want to move on without him.”
“What makes you think you’d have to?”
I raised a brow. “You’re really leaning into the mystical guru vibe today.”
His smile stretched slightly, then softened.
“Moving forward doesn’t mean moving on without him.
It means moving forward. Your relationship can’t return to what it used to be because neither of you is the same.
It’s going to change. And the more you cling to what was, the more you prevent it from becoming what it’s meant to be. ”
“What if what it’s meant to be is us not being together?”
“Then you have to accept that.”
I shook my head.
“You can’t control how he feels, Noah. You can censor yourself all you want, but in the end, that’s only going to harm both of you. If he can’t love you for who you are, then maybe you’re not supposed to be together.”
“I’m trying to change…”
“Changing isn’t about erasing yourself,” Samuel said. “Or making yourself smaller.”
“Then what is it about?”
“Learning. Finding different pathways. New rhythms.”
I shook my head again. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.
” My voice was small, and I hated how it sounded—fragile, like something about to crack.
“If it’s not the fights, or the lies, or the drugs…
I don’t know what’s still not working. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong now.
” My eyes burned, and I rubbed my hands over them again, trying to stop the sting before it spilled.
Samuel’s tone softened. “That feeling you’re having right now—when have you felt it before?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Don’t shy away from it. Feel it. Then tell me when.”
A shaky breath slipped past my lips as I hesitated.
“When we were together before,” I began slowly. “Atty and I. When things felt good. Or I thought they were good, but his friends kept looking at me like I was the worst thing that ever happened to him.”
“Can you think of something further back?”
I closed my eyes. I held on to that twisting feeling in my chest, the fear coursing through me like a live wire.
“At school. When nobody wanted to keep me. I didn’t get it—I didn’t understand why they didn’t want me.”
“Further back.”
A tear slipped down my cheek, and I licked my lips when it reached them. The hole inside me widened.
“My dad lying to me. I was doing everything right. I don’t get why he did it.”
“Further?” His voice stayed soft.
I shrugged.
“My mom,” I said, my voice breaking. “She kept changing her mind, and I never knew when I was good or not. Nothing worked.”
I didn’t know what to do to stop her from hating me.
I squeezed my eyes shut as another wave of tears spilled out.
“It’s just me, right? It doesn’t matter what I do,” I whispered.
There’s something wrong with me.
I’m not a good person.
I’m never going to be enough.
I buried my face in my hands.
“Sometimes,” Samuel said gently, “if we repeat something to ourselves enough—some stray idea or hurtful thought—it starts to feel like truth.”
More tears streamed through my fingers, falling soundlessly on the sheets below.
“It’s a false belief, Noah. Just because it feels true doesn’t mean it is. You have value simply because you exist. And there are people in your life who prove that—whether you believe it yet or not.”
I shrugged, unable to find anything else to say.
“This feeling you’re having with Atticus,” he continued, “it echoes from another wound. Makes it bigger. Magnifies it.”
Was that true? Or was it just me? If I was the common denominator, it had to be me…didn’t it?
“If you could see him right now—that little Noah, the scared kid who doesn’t feel loved—what would you say to him?”
The image came fast and clear. Me, small and curled up in a dark closet. Hiding. Hoping someone—anyone—would come find me.
“What does he need to hear?”
He looked right at me. Pleading.
“I can’t.”
“You can. Do it for him.”
I stared back—and then the words came, soft and simple. “I love you. It’s going to be okay.”
The silence stretched. My breaths filled the space, the only sound in the world now my quiet sniffling.
But still, the knot in my chest began to loosen, little by little.
“He’s not alone. He has you,” Samuel said.
I took a deep breath, trying to fill my lungs as much as I could.
“Open your eyes when you’re ready. Take your time,” he added.
I let myself breathe a few more times, then did as he said.
He gave me a sympathetic smile. “How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been ripped open,” I said honestly.
“Sounds about right,” he replied. “Now, I want you to look at me when I tell you this.”
With some effort, I met his gaze.
“You are worth it. You’re a good person. And you’re enough.”
My eyes burned again as I gave him a stiff nod.
“Atticus chose to give your relationship another shot because he believes those things too. But you can’t control what he decides. What you can do is give yourself the chance to build something new. A different relationship. One based on partnership—as equals.”
I nodded, absently playing with my fingers. My hand found the medallion around my neck, and I tugged at it.
“So how do I do that?” I asked, pulling my shirt over my face to wipe it.
“Well,” Samuel said, “first, you grieve your past relationships. Accept that what they were is gone.”
I snorted. “Because we all know how great I am at grieving and letting shit go,” I muttered, sarcasm thick in my voice.
“You can be, Noah.” Samuel’s voice was firmer now, more certain.
I looked up, surprised by the strength behind it.
“You absolutely can be. Just give yourself the chance.”
I nodded slowly, though doubt still sat heavy in my chest. My track record wasn’t exactly inspiring. But I wanted to try. For Atty—and for me.
And for him too. That kid in the closet flashed in my mind again, and a wave of protectiveness surged through me. I wanted to give him what he needed. And if I ever had a fighting chance of doing that, I’d have to face everything I’d fought so hard to bury.
“Okay, Doc. Give me the run-through,” I said.
Samuel smiled again.
“How do I tackle this motherfucker?”
Ezra, Atty, and I had slipped into a rhythm since the sprain. Ezra usually drove me to class, picked up Atty, and headed to the club. Then, depending on their schedules—and how many times Atty and I had seen each other that week—one of them would swing back to get me.
Even after that incredibly intense session with Samuel, I still had to get through a full day of summer courses. The one silver lining was that Ezra had to work late for an event, which meant I could stay with Atty afterward.
As soon as I stepped out of the classroom, those beautifully intense blue eyes locked on mine.
A grin tugged at my lips. “Hey. What are you doing here?” He usually waited closer to the entrance or by the parking lot.