20. Clara
CLARA
MAKE ME BELIEVE
I’m watching the clock like a hawk, perched on the edge of Maverick’s fancy office chair.
I told him I’d try talking to someone—a therapist—and I’m a woman of my word.
But I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t want to walk out of this room right now and crawl under the blankets with Juno.
That sounds like a much better plan than unpacking everything I’ve been through.
Maverick set me up in his home office, leaving me on my own after making sure I knew I could take as long as I needed before and after my appointment. His contact recommended Dr. Miller, a therapist who works almost exclusively with women who have experienced similar trauma.
Trauma.
It’s funny how life shapes us through our experiences—the things we endure and survive.
Are there levels of trauma? I thought I was handling the pain of losing my family pretty well; cutting them out of my life felt like amputating a limb.
But does the trauma of the last few weeks compound that loss?
Do I have multiple traumas now? How does this shit even work?
Will the incessant need to check the doors and locks ever fade?
Could I enjoy the darkness again and sleep with the lights off? That’d be freaking great.
I have questions. So many questions. I suppose that’s what this session is for—and every one after.
I glance at the clock one more time. 11:34 a.m. My appointment is at 11:35 a.m., leaving me with exactly one minute to get my shit together.
I can do this.
Blowing out a deep breath, I click the link to start the secure video call.
It connects instantly, and I’m greeted by a classically beautiful woman.
Mid-twenties, blonde hair, and a gentle, warm smile.
She looks approachable. Relatable. Safe.
It’s the first thought that comes to mind—the same one I had when I met Maverick.
“Hi, Clara,” she says. “I’m so happy to meet you. My name is Ashley Miller, but please call me Ash.” Her voice is soothing, welcoming. I find that I want to open myself up to her, to trust her.
I attempt a smile—at least I think I do. “Hi, Ash. Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice. I really appreciate it.”
“Oh my goodness, that’s what I’m here for! So, I know the basics of your case—Special Agent Rhodes gave me a brief run down—but I’d love to check in with you first. How are you feeling about today’s meeting? Or just… today in general? ”
“Uhm… I’m nervous,” I answer, exhaling slowly. “I know this will be good for me. That I need it, but it’s hard. I relive that nightmare every night, and I don’t really want to relive it again.”
“That’s completely understandable.” Her expression is kind, patient.
“Do you need to address the trauma at some point? Yes, but I think you already know that. That doesn’t mean you have to do it all right now.
We do this at your pace—on your time and at your comfort level.
If you’d rather focus on the present and revisit the past when you’re ready, then we’ll absolutely do that. ”
“Thank you, Ash,” I whisper. I already feel overwhelmed, but in a good way. She won’t push me, and I’m thankful for the grace.
“I want to ask.. Do you feel safe where you are?”
“Yes,” I respond instantly, though I stare off into the distance and purse my lips.
It isn’t that I’m not being honest—because I am—it’s just that, despite feeling safe with Maverick, I don’t feel safe as a whole.
After a pause, I continue, “It’s… complicated.
I feel safe with Maverick. There’s something about him that’s made me feel safe from the start, so whenever he’s around, I’m okay.
And Juno—Maverick’s dog—has been with me every day.
Having him here has been really helpful.
But… I don’t feel safe safe. There’s a part of me that’s convinced he’ll find me again.
Before I came here—to Maverick’s—I checked my doors and windows at least fifty times a day, and that’s not an exaggeration.
I check them here, too, but not nearly as often.
And I sleep with all the lights on; that helps. ”
“It makes sense that your sense of safety has been shattered. It might take some time before you feel completely safe, but even small steps are progress. Those small steps matter. And that you’ve already reduced how often you check the locks?
That’s progress, Clara.” Ash shifts in her chair, leaning forward.
“What’s it like, sleeping with the lights on? ”
“Real freaking shitty,” I blurt, then slap my hand over my mouth. “Sorry! I don’t know if I’m allowed to say that.”
Ash laughs—a light, twinkling sound. “Say whatever you want. I have the mouth of a sailor. You’re good.”
Relief washes over me. “Oh, good. That makes me feel better. And sleeping with the lights on sucks—it’s really freaking hard. Honestly, sleeping has been rough. But I’m too afraid to turn the lights off—it feels like every shadow is out to get me.”
Ash hums, then asks, “Is there a bathroom in your room?”
“Yup. That light stays on, too.”
“Have you tried turning off the main light but leaving the bathroom light on? Maybe using a lamp instead? This way your room isn’t completely dark.”
Why didn’t I think of that? “Oh… I haven’t tried that. There are two lamps in the room, but I just turn those on with everything else.” I nod to myself. “I can try it.”
“Have you been able to get any sleep at all?”
“The other night,” I admit. “I had a nightmare, which isn’t unusual, but I must’ve been screaming because Maverick came in. Juno, too. I asked him to stay. It was probably the best sleep I’ve had since… well, since everything. ”
“I’m glad you have him,” Ash says gently. “You need a strong support system.”
I hesitate, then ask, “Would it be… weird or inappropriate if I asked him to stay again tonight? I’m just so freaking tired.”
“I don’t know about ‘appropriate,’ but you do whatever you need to do to make it through the night. Don’t worry about what other people think. Take it one day at a time and fuck everyone else.”
Oh, I really, really like her. I let out a fake gasp, then offer her a genuine smile. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”
“I’ll always be honest with you.” She tilts her head. “How’s it been going outside?”
I scrunch my nose and clear my throat. “It… hasn’t. Unless you count walking from Maverick’s car to the house.”
“That doesn’t count,” she says, amused. “Does he have a backyard?”
I dip my chin.
“Would you consider sitting out there with Juno? Just for a little while? You can tell me all about it next time. Maybe ask Maverick to sit with you.”
All I can do is nod while tears prick my eyes. Have I really let him control me like this? Let my fear take over to where I haven’t even stepped outside unless absolutely necessary? I don’t want to live like this anymore.
For the rest of our session, we shift to lighter topics, and I relax. My first impression of her was right; she’s easy to talk to. As we schedule our next appointment for the same time next week, I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time.
Relief.
I have someone to talk to. Someone who won’t judge me.
I give myself ten minutes to decompress before stepping into the living room. Maverick is on the couch, laptop on his lap. He abandons it the second he hears me. “Hey, how did it go?”
“It went really well,” I answer. The truth in that statement surprises me.
I wasn't sure how I'd feel about therapy, but talking with Ash felt right—I feel lighter.
After claiming the corner of the couch, Juno wastes no time meandering over and curling up at my feet.
“I like her. Thank you so much for finding her for me.”
“Of course, sunshine. I’m just glad you have someone to talk to.”
“Yeah, me too. She makes me feel comfortable.” I lift my gaze to his, running my hands nervously along the armrest.
Maverick watches me closely. “What is it?”
I wet my lips, my pulse thrumming. “I want to ask you something.” I pause, meeting his eyes as my fingers press into the couch, the deepening indentations evidence of my nerves.
“Would you… Would you be okay sleeping with me again? I slept so much better with you there.” Before he even has a chance to respond, I hastily add, “But you don’t have to.
Please don’t feel like you have to say yes.
I don’t want to make this weird, I just… Ash said it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”
His soft brown eyes widen slightly, and for a long moment, he’s silent. Like he’s contemplating my ridiculous, needy request. My heartbeat pounds in my ears as I wait. When I think he’s going to say no, he nods.
“Ash is right,” he murmurs. “And yes, sunshine. I can. For as long as you need me to.”
My hands tremble as I turn off the bedroom light, dimming the room. The bathroom light and both bedside lamps are the only things warding off the darkness.
“You can keep the light on, sunshine.”
“No,” I exclaim, then wince. “Sorry. I mean… Ash suggested turning off the overhead light but keeping the lamps and bathroom light on.”
I glance at Maverick, leaning against the desk. He’s been watching me closely all night. It’s unnerving but comforting. Exhaling, I shake my head and whisper, “I need to do this.”
“Okay, sunshine. But if you need all the lights on, just say the word, and I’ll take care of it.”
I offer him a small, grateful smile before walking toward the bed and lifting the comforter. Hesitation stops me, and it takes more effort than I’d like to admit to slip beneath the covers.
It isn’t completely dark—the soft glow from the lamps and the bright bathroom light illuminate every inch of the room.
I can do this.
The moment I pull the blanket up to my face, Juno jumps onto the bed, settling at my feet. His weight is a balm to my nerves.