Chapter 20
Twenty
Honor Gravehart
"Anything new since we last spoke?" Dr. Lockhart asked, tapping her pen against her notepad.
I leaned back in my chair, debating how I was supposed to tell her my girlfriend had been walking on eggshells around me or how I didn't feel an ounce of remorse after killing her brother.
"Honor," she gently voiced. "You don't have to lay some heavy burden at my feet. Therapy doesn't always have to be about pouring everything out. It can be the place where you get poured into."
My brows furrowed at that. Her tone wasn't flirtatious, but that of a beautiful, accomplished woman talking about pouring into a nigga could easily be misinterpreted.
"Oh… no." She laughed, then snorted unexpectedly. Her cheeks flushed, embarrassment coloring them red immediately. The same way Wynn's did when she snorted.
"I didn't mean—" she cleared her throat, then exhaled slowly. "I wasn't coming on to you. What I meant was, in life, we don't always have people who are willing to be our strength when we're weak."
"I look weak to you, Doc?" I chuckled.
"Not physically. In this facility, weakness isn't about muscle. It's about depletion. When life drags someone through the mud, and they don't have the energy to pull themselves out."
"Life's been dragging me since I was a kid." I shrugged. "I'm used to that shit by now."
"Being used to pain doesn't mean you're not tired," she informed me. "And it doesn't mean you don't deserve people who can shield you from it."
I held her stare. "I never want someone I love to get struck by something that's meant for me. That's weak-minded nigga shit."
"That's control. You'd rather take a hit than risk feeling helpless," she calmly noted. "It could even be fear, but it's not weak-minded nigga shit."
Silence settled between us.
"If we were meant to fight everything alone, there wouldn't be billions of people on this planet. Interdependence isn't a weakness. Connection exists because survival was never designed to be solitary."
"Can I ask you some off-topic?"
"Of course." She smiled. "This isn't a checklist session. It's a conversation. Wherever your mind goes, I'll follow."
"You believe in soulmates?"
Dr. Lockhart gave a small, knowing smile. "I believe in attachment patterns."
I leaned back. "That sounds clinical."
"It's honest. We bond with people who meet us at our deepest emotional needs, especially during trauma."
She folded her hands loosely in her lap.
"When we're hurting, abandoned, scared… the first person who makes us feel seen or safe can imprint on us in powerful ways. That kind of bond can feel cosmic, fated, like the two of you were so special the universe had to intervene."
My nostrils flared.
"And sometimes it's beautiful," she continued. "Because it saves us. It teaches us connection and reminds us that we matter."
She paused, and her eyes drew together thoughtfully.
"Other times, we confuse the person who rescued us with the person we're meant to grow with.
Trauma bonds can feel like destiny because they're formed in the context of survival, and surviving feels sacred.
That doesn't make the love fake. It just means it may have been born from need before choice. "
I pressed my tongue against my molars, trying to reject what she implied without coming off defensive. That shit sounded too clinical. Like what Navy and I had could be reduced to terminology pulled from a fucking textbook instead of years of history.
"Is there a specific relationship you're thinking about?"
I gave a quiet, humorless laugh.
She didn't miss it and offered a small, knowing nod. "You can say or describe what you're feeling. Either works."
My fingers drummed against the arm of the chair.
"It's complicated," I told her.
"When is it not?" she replied. "That's the beauty of life. We get to wake up every day because things are complicated. Simplicity doesn't move us."
"Navy is the first person who made me feel seen."
"How so?"
"I was eleven," I flatly answered. "I tried to kill myself."
She didn't flinch. She just nodded, assuring me that what I felt was safe in this room.
"Life had thrown me to the wolves, and I was cool letting them eat me alive. She saw me and ran to me. Wrapped her little chubby arms around me and whispered don't.
Dr. Lockhart's voice softened. "That's a profound beginning for two children."
"I told you," I let out a dry laugh, "life's been dragging me since I was a kid. That moment tied us together because after that, she was always there."
"Being saved at that age can create a powerful attachment," she noted carefully. "It can blur the line between gratitude, dependency, and love."
I stared at the wall, jaw tightening as I turned her words over.
"Nahhh," I dragged after a beat, "it didn't confuse shit for me. How we met is bigger than that attachment bullshit you're trying to label it. Navy and I gotta be destined. We've been through too much shit not to be."
"Or," she gently offered, "you bonded with the first person who made you feel worth saving."
"I bonded with who I was meant to be with."
Dr. Lockhart didn't rush to respond. She let the silence sweep, making me sit in it.
"Tell me something," she finally spoke. "If Navy didn't save you… if you met her today as the man you are now would you still choose her?"
The question caught me off guard. Not choosing Navy has never been a thought. She was mine. That always felt understood, not debated. Like the universe had placed her in my life with intention, and it wasn't my place to question. Loving Navy wasn't a decision. It was a perfect alignment.
"Doc, I'm not doing hypotheticals."
She didn't let me off that easily.
"Then I'll make it less hypothetical. Is there anyone in your life you chose without trauma tying you together?"
My jaw twitched as one name came to mind.
"You don't have to protect anyone's feelings in here," she added. "Not even Navy's."
I exhaled slowly.
"There's someone," I muttered.
"And what makes that connection different?"
"She didn't meet me in survival. She met me in control.
Dr. Lockhart let that sit for a moment.
"Control," she repeated thoughtfully. "So with her, you're not the boy who needed saving?"
"I can't be 'cause she doesn't know that version of me. The way she handles me isn't rooted in sympathy. She's not trying to fix me."
"And that matters to you."
"Yeah," I admitted. "When someone meets you at your lowest, they can freeze you there even if they don't mean to. Navy looks at me and still sees that broken-ass kid. Choyce only sees what's in front of her."
"How does the difference feel?"
I ran my hand down my face and leaned back. "With Navy, there's history, loyalty, and a bond that was written before I had a say in it. With Choyce, things feel intentional. She fucks with me 'cause of me."
Dr. Lockhart nodded. "So one connection is rooted in survival. The other, ironically, is rooted in choice."
I didn't correct her.
"If you had to decide today," she continued. "Without the weight of what happened when you were ten… who would you choose? Navy the fixer… or Choyce the admirer?"
"Damn," I huffed under my breath.
A soft alarm chimed from the wall, signaling the end of the session, and Dr. Lockhart closed her notebook.
"Think about that question and come back with an answer for your next session."
"I doubt I'll have one," I replied, pushing up from the chair. "I'll be back for our next session, tho'."
"Before you go, would you be willing to share one fact about father? Something small. It might make it easier to approach what you suppressed."
"Can it be something I just found out about him?"
"Of course."
I hesitated longer than I wanted to. "I think the man who adopted me knew my father."
"Why do you believe that?"
"Someone let it slip."
"Who?"
I didn't answer right away.
"A man who thought he was about to die said I was something his father fucked with 'cause of something with my father."
Dr. Lockhart studied him. "And that stuck with you."
I gave her a humorless smirk. "People don't reach for fiction when they're staring down the barrel of reality."
A soft knock on the door pulled her eyes from mine. The door opened with Wynn peeking her head in.
"Mrs. Wright's here and demanding you start her session now."
"It's never a dull day," Dr. Lockhart smiled faintly. "Honor, I'll see you at your next session. Bronwynn, get him scheduled for me, please."
"Of course." Wynn smiled, opening the door wider for Dr. Lockhart to rush out.
I walked over and grabbed the door from Wynn, nodding for her to walk out first.
"How was your session?" she asked, making conversation as we walked the long hall.
"Better than the last one." I shrugged.
"That's nice to hear," She smiled. "Okay, let's get you scheduled."
Grabbing her iPad, which she had strapped over her shoulder and hanging at her waist, she pressed a few buttons to pull up a calendar.
"Okay, do you want to do another plain room, or would you like to try one of our other themed rooms?"
"Plain is cool. Themed is more of Crown's vibe."
"Actually, he likes his sessions to be on the balcony. He sometimes has panic attacks, and being in the open helps to alleviate them," Wynn explained. "Do you want our next opening on Wednesday at three?"
"Yeah. Make it a group session. I want my brothers there."
"Wow! People normally don't invite others into their sessions until they're ten sessions in."
"I'm on borrowed time. I gotta speed this healing shit up," I told her, and she laughed like it was a joke, only it wasn't. Talon was dead, which meant the next step was happening in the foreseeable future.
"Okay, you are all set. Enjoy the rest of your night, Honor." Wynn grinned, pushing open the front doors of the facility.
I gently pulled her hand from the door.
"When a man's around, you never touch the door."
"My dad used to tell me the same thing. He said a true gentleman would never let me do three things. Touch a door when he's around, walk on the outside of the sidewalk while he's on the inside, and a true gentleman would never watch me cry over a problem. He'll solve it for me instead."
"Your father sounds like a great man."
"He was. I miss him every day," she muttered, getting choked up. "I'm sorry, will you excuse me for a second?"
Wynn ran off toward the front desk, where she leaned over the counter and grabbed a teacup. She took a long sip, let out a slow breath, then walked back over, looking like she wasn't seconds away from crying.
"What's in that cup?" I eyed her skeptically.
"Tea." She laughed. "I grow my own herbs and create different blends of marmalade teas."
"What's marmalade tea?"
"Oh, umm, it's like a jelly consistency, and you just mix a spoonful into hot water."
"That sounds dope." I nodded, impressed.
"I'm happy someone thinks so."
"Dr. Lockhart isn't a fan?" I asked, and her eyes shot to mine.
"How did you know?"
"She snorted, then looked embarrassed the same way you did. I don't know how I didn't catch it before. Y'all favor each other."
"I don't think so, but yes, she's my mother," Wynn huffed.
"Is that why Wynn is such a heavy name?"
"Something like that. Dr. Lockhart is an impressive woman who does amazing work, but when it comes to Naomi, the mother, she just kind of falls short.
My father is the parent who died, but it feels like I'm also mourning my mom.
She doesn't care I found a hobby that brings me the same peace being around my father did.
She just looks at it as a frivolous pastime and keeps trying to therapy me back into figure skating. "
"A figure skater who makes tea. I would've never guessed," I nodded.
"Yeah, many wouldn't, but yup, that's the story of my heavy name. I could've been the first skater to win the Vanguard Junior Series three years in a row, but the judges were nitpicking when it came to my scores. My father died five months before, and I just couldn’t deal with having to be exceptionally better than the other girls while they only had to be mediocre. I bugged out and walked off the ice mid-routine. Everyone was shocked because they all expected me to make history, but I just couldn’t do it and it feels like my mother never forgave me for it. "
"I'm sorry that happened."
"Don't be. It's life." She shrugged and took another sip from her cup.
"Aye, you got any of that marmalade tea here?"
"I do. I keep a few jars for the staff and a few of the inpatients. You want one?"
"Yeah. I got a few emotionally intense people in my life that could use it."
"Okay, but I want you to try it too," Wynn stated and hurried off.
While I waited for Wynn, I checked my phone. I had a few missed calls from my brothers, but it was the texts from Navy that caught my attention.
Navy
Are you on your way home?
Me
Yeah. Leaving my session now.
Navy
Grab something to eat.
Me
Preference?
Navy
Doesn't matter.
"Here you go," Wynn huffed, sounding winded.
"What did you run?"
"Yeah." She laughed. "Let me know how you like it the next time you come."
"Bet. Enjoy your night, Wynn, and don't let how your mother chooses to grieve make you forget that she loves you."
"I'll try." She waved as I walked out the door and headed home.