Chapter 39
Naomi let the silence linger for a moment.
She watched Aria carefully, seeing the shift in her expression, the way realization had settled over her like something both devastating and clarifying all at once, because sometimes the hardest part of healing wasn't uncovering the truth, it was recognizing how long that truth had quietly controlled your life without you ever knowing it.
"Fear has a way of doing that," Naomi said gently after a moment.
"It convinces us we're protecting ourselves, when really we're just shut down.
" She paused, choosing her next words carefully.
"And Aria, I want you to hear me when I say this because I think it's important that you do hear this, you are not frozen because you don't love him enough, and you are not frozen because you're incapable of moving forward.
You're frozen because somewhere inside of you, your brain still believes loving him fully again comes with unbearable consequences. "
Aria swallowed hard at that, because God, wasn't that the truth?
Loving Chase had once felt easy, natural even, like breathing, but loving him after losing him had become something entirely different, something tangled in fear and grief and memories sharp enough to still cut if she held them too tightly.
She had spent years surviving his absence, years teaching herself how not to need him, how not to hope too loudly, how to build walls around the parts of herself that had once belonged so completely to him, and now here he was again, alive and trying in his own broken way to find his place back beside her, while she stood trapped somewhere between wanting to run toward him and wanting to protect herself from ever surviving that kind of devastation again.
"I don't know how to stop being afraid," she admitted quietly, her voice smaller than before, stripped of the usual instinct to deflect or soften the truth.
"Because every time I let myself think maybe we can have this.
.. maybe we can find our way back..." She shook her head and looked down at her hands.
"I immediately think about everything that could go wrong, about losing him again, about something happening, about waking up one day and having to survive another version of this, and I honestly don't know if there's anything left in me that could survive again. "
Naomi nodded slowly, not with pity but with understanding, the kind that came from hearing the same fear dressed in different colors over the years, because trauma had a way of convincing people that surviving pain once somehow obligated them to prepare for it forever.
"Of course you're afraid," she said gently.
"You loved someone deeply, lost him in one of the cruelest ways possible, spent years trapped in uncertainty, and then got him back only to discover he wasn't entirely the man you remembered.
That would shake anyone, Aria." She leaned back slightly, giving the words space to settle.
"But I want to ask you something, and I need you to answer honestly.
Are you protecting yourself from pain, or are you punishing yourself before anything bad has even happened? "
The question hit her harder than Aria expected.
Her brows furrowed immediately because instinct wanted to reject it, wanted to say no, absolutely not, that everything she had done had been about survival, about staying steady, about not falling apart again, but the longer she sat there, the more uncomfortable the truth became.
Because what had she really been doing lately?
Keeping Chase at arm's length emotionally, swallowing things she wanted to say, pretending she was fine when she wasn't, refusing to let herself lean into moments that once would have come naturally because somewhere deep inside her, fear kept whispering the same thing: don't get too comfortable, don't trust this too much, don't let yourself need him again because you already know what happens when he disappears.
And maybe the cruelest part of all was realizing Chase probably felt that distance too, probably mistook her hesitation for uncertainty when the truth was so much messier than that.
"I think..." She stopped, swallowing hard.
"I think maybe... yes, I've been grieving something that hasn't happened yet.
" The realization came slowly, painfully, like pulling glass free one piece at a time.
"Like I've been so scared of losing him that I've already started mourning him in advance.
" Her voice cracked slightly as she laughed without humor, wiping quickly at her face again.
"God, that sounds insane when I say it out loud. "
"No," Naomi said softly. "It sounds human.
" Her expression gentled. "Aria, people who have lived through traumatic loss often do this without even realizing it.
They try to stay one step ahead of heartbreak because they believe if they expect it, if they prepare for it, maybe it won't destroy them as badly the second time.
But all it really does is rob them of the present.
" She paused before asking quietly, "Tell me something honestly, when was the last time you allowed yourself to just enjoy having him back without fear interrupting the moment? "
Aria opened her mouth to answer and then stopped, because the awful truth was she couldn't think of one moment that had belonged entirely to happiness without fear eventually slipping in beside it.
Even the good moments had come with an expiration date in her mind, every quiet laugh, every late night conversation, every accidental touch somehow followed by the same creeping panic that whispered don't get too comfortable, don't let this mean too much, don't forget what happened last time.
Her chest tightened as memory after memory surfaced, Chase asleep with his head in her lap the night before, his body finally relaxed after days of fighting memories that seemed determined to drag him under, the warmth of his weight against her, the quiet peace of simply having him there, and yet even then she had found herself watching him breathe with dread sitting heavy in her chest, terrified of how fragile it all felt, terrified that if she loved him too openly again, fate would somehow notice and take him away.
"I don't think I have," she admitted quietly, the realization sounding sadder out loud than it had inside her head.
"Not really." Her fingers twisted together in her lap as she stared down at them.
"Even when things are good, I'm waiting for something bad to happen.
When he remembers something new, I wonder if it's going to break him.
When he has a nightmare, I wonder if he's getting worse.
When he looks at me..." She swallowed hard.
"I'm scared one day he's gonna remember enough to realize I'm not who he wants anymore, or that too much changed while he was gone, or that maybe I only make sense to him because I'm familiar and one day that feeling wears off. "
The room quieted again, but this time it felt different, less like pressure and more like permission, because Naomi wasn't looking at her like she was irrational or dramatic or too much the way so many people had over the years.
She looked at her like she was hurting, like every fear she carried made sense even if they weren't helping her anymore.
"You know what I hear when you talk?" Naomi asked softly after a moment.
"Someone waiting for the other shoe to drop.
" Aria huffed a weak laugh despite herself because, honestly, that sounded painfully accurate.
Naomi gave her a small smile before continuing.
"The problem is, sweetheart, if you spend every moment waiting for disaster, eventually fear becomes the loudest voice in the room, and when fear gets loud enough, it starts making decisions for you. "
Aria sat with that for a moment, because wasn't fear already making decisions for her?
Fear had kept her quiet. Fear had taught her not to need people.
Fear had turned vulnerability into something dangerous.
Fear had convinced her to keep pieces of herself hidden even from Chase, the very person she once trusted more than anyone else.
And suddenly she found herself wondering something she hadn't dared ask before, something terrifying in its honesty: if Chase was fighting every day to find his way back to himself, then what excuse did she have for refusing to meet him halfway?
"What if I don't know how to stop?" she asked quietly, her voice breaking around the edges.
"What if I've been afraid for so long that I don't even know who I am without the fear anymore? "
Naomi held her gaze for a long moment after the question settled between them, her expression thoughtful rather than concerned, like she had been waiting for Aria to finally arrive at the real fear underneath everything else.
"Then maybe," she said gently, "we stop trying to make fear disappear and start figuring out why you thinks it has to protect you so aggressively.
" She leaned forward in her chair as her voice softened.
"Fear usually starts as protection, especially after trauma.
At one point, staying guarded probably did save you.
" she used her fingers to make air quotes, "It helped you survive losing Chase, helped you keep functioning when everyone else moved on and expected you to somehow be okay while you were still grieving.
But survival skills have a way of overstaying their welcome, and eventually the things that protected us start becoming the things keeping us stuck. "
Aria looked down at her hands again, thinking about how instinctive it had become to hold herself back, how automatic it felt to swallow emotions before they could become visible, how quickly she reached for distance anytime something mattered too much.
She had spent years believing she was strong for enduring things quietly, believing independence meant never needing anyone too deeply, but sitting here now she wasn't entirely sure anymore if she had become strong or simply unreachable.
Somewhere along the way, fear had become routine, and routine had become identity.
The thought unsettled her more than she expected.
"So what?" she asked quietly after a moment, exhaustion threading through her voice. "I just... stop being afraid?" The question sounded ridiculous even to her.
Naomi smiled softly, not amused but understanding.
"No," she said. "You stop letting fear be the one driving.
" She paused before continuing, careful with her words.
"You don't have to suddenly become vulnerable overnight or trust everything completely.
Healing doesn't work like that. But I do think you need to start paying attention to the moments fear interrupts something good. "
Aria frowned slightly. "Meaning?"
"Meaning," Naomi said gently, "I'm giving you homework.
" The faint groan that escaped Aria earned the first real smile Naomi had worn all session.
"Before you roll your eyes too hard, hear me out.
For the next week, every time you notice yourself pulling away from Chase, shutting down, swallowing something you actually want to say, or assuming the worst before anything bad has happened, I want you to stop and ask yourself one question.
" She let the pause sit for emphasis. "Is this fear talking, or is this truth?
" Aria stayed quiet, considering that longer than she expected to.
"And," Naomi added, softer now, "I want one moment a day where you let yourself enjoy him being back without borrowing grief from tomorrow.
No future tripping, no what ifs, no preparing for disaster.
Just one honest moment where you let yourself be present with him, even if it scares you.
" She reached for her notebook before glancing back up.
"Could be coffee on the porch, dinner, sitting beside him while he talks, doesn't matter.
I just want you to notice what it feels like when fear isn't leading for five minutes. "
Aria let out a quiet breath, somewhere between overwhelmed and strangely relieved, because for the first time in a long time this didn't feel like someone telling her to just move on or get over it. It felt like permission to stop surviving long enough to maybe start living again.
"You know," she said after a moment, wiping beneath her eyes one last time, "I feel like this is some therapist trap where I say yes and then next week you emotionally ambush me."
Naomi smiled over the rim of her coffee.
"Oh, it's absolutely a trap."
Aria huffed a quiet laugh despite herself.
"Fantastic."
"But," Naomi added gently, her expression softening again, "I don't expect perfection, Aria. I just want awareness. I want you to notice when fear shows up before it gets to make the decision for you."
That sat with her, because maybe she hadn't realized how many decisions fear had already been making while keeping her quiet, keeping her guarded, and keeping Chase just far enough away that if something happened again, maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't destroy her completely.
Except... it already was in quieter ways.
She let out a slow breath and nodded once.
"Okay."
Naomi tilted her head slightly. "Okay?"
"I'll do the homework," Aria said, though it sounded far less confident than she wished it did. "I'm not promising I'll be good at it."
"You don't have to be good at it," Naomi said softly. "You just have to be honest with me and yourself."
The session ended not long after that, though Aria lingered for a moment in the hallway afterward, standing strangely still outside Naomi's office as if part of her expected to feel dramatically different somehow, lighter maybe.
Instead, she just felt... exposed. Emotionally wrung out. Like someone had taken all the carefully stacked boxes she had spent years organizing inside herself and quietly opened them without asking permission.
Work passed in a blur after that. Her same old routine had helped her raw nerves.
More than once she caught herself reaching for her phone to text Chase, only to stop midway because she didn't even know what she wanted to say.
How are you?Did you eat?Did the memories get bad today?
I'm terrified and emotionally compromised after therapy and apparently incapable of acting normal?
No, definitely not that.
So instead, she buried herself in work until the clock finally gave her permission to leave.
By the time she pulled into the driveway, the sky had started softening into evening, warm gold stretching across the edges of the yard, and for a second she sat in the car with both hands wrapped around the steering wheel, suddenly aware of Naomi's homework sitting there in the back of her mind like an accusation.
One moment with no fear. It sounded easy enough.
Right?
The second she stepped inside, she heard Chase before she saw him.
"...No, that's not what I said."
His voice drifted from the living room. Tight. Frustrated. Barely restrained anger.
Aria frowned slightly as she shut the door behind her.
"...Because if we move funding before the board signs off, somebody's gonna have a damn problem with it, and I'd prefer that somebody not be me."
A pause.
Then Chase sighed hard enough she could practically hear the irritation.
"Jesus Christ."
She stepped further inside and finally saw him.
He sat at the dining table with his laptop open in front of him, one elbow braced against the wood while he rubbed at his forehead like he was one inconvenience away from throwing the entire computer through a wall.
Reading glasses sat low on his nose, something she still wasn't fully used to seeing, and his dark hair looked messier than usual from him repeatedly dragging frustrated hands through it.
Some things about Chase had changed.
Time had settled into him in ways twenty three year old Chase never could have imagined.
He had changed in ways that still caught her off guard when she wasn't expecting them.
At twenty eight, Chase should have still felt familiar in all the easy ways, but life had reached into him and rearranged pieces she sometimes still mourned quietly.
He was still broad shouldered, still carried the kind of strength military life had carved into him, the kind that lived in the solid width of his chest and arms and the way he unconsciously took up space without trying, but there was something quieter about him now.
Harder earned. Like survival had settled into his posture and taught him stillness where there had once only been movement.
His dark hair had gotten a little longer than he used to wear it, thick and slightly unruly, falling messy in a way that made him look perpetually distracted whenever he ran frustrated hands through it, which, judging by the look of him now, had happened at least twenty times during this conference call alone.
It curled just enough near the edges to soften some of the sharpness life had carved into him, though nothing could quite hide the exhaustion that still lingered around the edges lately.
His jaw stayed rough with stubble more often than not these days, less because he forgot and more because some mornings clearly felt heavier than others.
And then there were his eyes, those hazel depths had remained untouched.
That was the dangerous part.
Because somehow, despite everything, they still looked the same.
Still held that same quiet intensity whenever he focused too hard on something, the same softness that slipped through when he looked at people he cared about, the same stubbornness that had once driven her absolutely insane.
Even irritated, halfway through threatening someone on a conference call and rubbing at the bridge of his nose like his patience had officially left the building, there was still something unfairly handsome about him. Not polished. Not perfect. Just real.
Some deeply inconvenient part of her still looked at him and thought the same dangerous thing she always had.
Home.
He looked up then, noticing her standing there.
And immediately something in his expression shifted.
The irritation softened.
Just slightly.
"Hey," he said, voice rougher now after hours of frustration.
Then, muting himself on the call, he added quietly:
"How was your day?"
The question should have been easy.
The kind of thing people asked each other without thinking.
But Aria stood there for a second longer than necessary, hand still loosely gripping the strap of her bag while Naomi's homework echoed irritatingly in the back of her mind.
Be honest.
Just once.
No fear.
No pretending.
Across the room at the table, Chase frowned slightly, enough concern creeping into his expression that she knew he noticed the pause.
"That bad?" he asked quietly, glancing back toward the muted conference call for half a second before looking at her again.
The screen was still moving.
People talking.
Charts pulled up.
Someone gesturing aggressively with their hands.
Whatever work drama had him irritated clearly hadn't stopped.
But for some reason...
She couldn't make herself say I'm fine.
Her chest tightened and before she could overthink it, before fear could step in and tell her to swallow it, she moved.
Chase blinked, caught off guard when she crossed the room without saying anything.
"Aria?"
She reached down, gently grabbing the edge of his laptop.
"What are..."
Without a word, she turned it just enough so whoever sat on the other side of the conference call couldn't see her.
Chase looked genuinely confused now his brows pulling together and the tiny line between them appearing.
That familiar look he got when he was trying to figure her out.
And then, to his complete surprise, she stepped between his knees and wrapped her arms around him.
Not tentative.
Not awkward.
Just...
Tired.
Like she had finally run out of strength to hold herself upright.
For a second Chase went completely still.
The conference call forgotten, his irritation gone, his hands hovering like he wasn't entirely sure what had just happened.
Aria buried her face against him, cheek pressing into the warmth of his shoulder as she let herself hold onto him for the first time since he came home.
And quietly... so quietly he almost missed it she said,
"...It was the worst."
Slowly, carefully, like he was afraid moving too fast might scare her away, his arms came around her.
One hand settling gently against the middle of her back and the other brushing lightly against her arm.
His voice softened instantly. "Hey..." Concern replaced confusion. "What happened?"
Aria let out a shaky breath. "I had therapy with Naomi."
The words muffled against his shoulder.
Chase blinked, therapy?
He glanced briefly at the laptop screen again where several very confused executives were now absolutely still talking to nobody.
Didn't care.
Not even a little.
Without taking his one hand off her, he calmly reached over to the laptop before shutting it and ending the call entirely.
Work could wait.
Whatever this was...
Her quietly falling apart in his arms...
Couldn't.
He leaned back just enough to look at her, hazel eyes searching her face immediately.
"You okay?"
The question came softly... carefully.
That almost made her cry again, because Naomi had asked her to notice moments fear interrupted and to let herself have one moment. Just one.
And standing here, tucked against Chase while he looked at her like she mattered, she realized this might be it.
So instead of lying, instead of brushing it off, she exhaled shakily and admitted the truth.
"No."
Her voice cracked.
"Not really."
When the words left her lips, she began to cry against his chest feeling lighter for having admitted that out loud while knowing how she hadn't said that to anybody in years.
It was then too that she realized, he still asked her if she was okay and he still truly cared about her answer.