Chapter 23
Andi
“So, Andi, what do you want to work on today?” Nancy asks, perched on her armchair.
I shift nervously, trying to find a comfortable position on her sofa. My gaze darts around the tastefully decorated room, ping-ponging across every surface.
“Isn’t it your job to come up with what we talk about?” I joke.
“Sometimes I guide the sessions more strongly, but I get the sense that you have an idea of what you want to discuss today.”
“I think I have Daddy issues,” I blurt out.
I instantly close my eyes, cringing in mortification.
“Sorry, that was a stupid way of saying that,” I say.
“I don’t think it was stupid at all. What’s bringing this up? It seems like there’s a lot behind that statement.”
I open and close my mouth, not quite sure where to start.
Actually, that’s wrong.
I know exactly where to start.
It starts with a tall, broad-shouldered, dominant alpha who could be old enough to be my father. Sure, a young father, but still. He’s more in my mom’s age bracket than mine.
It’s not illegal or uncommon for young women in their mid-twenties to date older men, especially in this industry, but something about it feels embarrassing.
Maybe because my mom would have a ton of shit to say about it. Right before she tried to seduce him herself if I brought him home. And then it’d be my fault if he ended up ditching me for my mother.
“How about you walk me through your thoughts,” Nancy says, offering me a reassuring smile. “I can practically see the gears in your head spinning.”
“Sorry,” I wince. “I—I just don’t want to be judged.”
“This is a judgment-free zone, Andi. I promise.”
“O—okay, well, um, I met a guy. An alpha.” I stare down at myself, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat.
For a split second, I’m not looking down at the basic leggings and tank top I have on, I’m staring at the blood splattered bejeweled dress from that night at the Grammys.
“I take it you’re interested in this man?” Nancy prompts.
“Y—yeah. And I’m—I’m scared, I think. He’s a lot older than me. And an alpha. And God knows I don’t pick alphas very well.”
“Ezra’s actions were his, not yours to take responsibility for, Andi. What happened to you is not your burden to carry.”
I let her words wash over me, shutting my eyes and praying I’m not plagued by the memories of that night.
“Okay,” I rasp. “I think... It’ll take me a while to actually believe that.”
“And I’ll be here every step of the way to remind you.”
I’m glad my eyes are closed, because I feel the embarrassing burn of tears behind them.
“Maybe I have Mommy issues too,” I laugh, burying my face in my hands. “You’re so nice to me. Is this how men feel with strippers?”
Nancy lets out a soft breath that sounds suspiciously close to a laugh. When I peek at her through my fingers, I see a grin that she’s unable to hold back.
Score. I made my therapist laugh.
That must mean I’m hilarious.
“I can’t comment on the strippers bit, but I do think you’ve pointed out something very fair,” Nancy says. “I do think the hypercritical inner voice you have isn’t yours.”
“Not mine? What do you mean?”
“Imagine a friend of yours,” Nancy says.
The instruction is innocuous. It should be easy to imagine a friend.
But for a split second, I can’t think of anyone.
I’m hit with a terrible, deep pang of loneliness.
And then I remember whose hoodie I’m wearing.
I never gave Beck his hoodie back. It still carries the faint whiff of his burnt caramel scent, though now it’s more of an even mix between our two perfumes.
Beck is my friend. So is Leo.
Look at me, I have two friends who come to mind.
That’s the most I’ve ever had at one time.
“Imagine that friend went through something you did. Their long-term partner assaulted them. Would you say the same things about them as you would yourself?”
“No.” My answer is instantaneous. If anyone hurt Beck or Leo... It’d be my turn to get violent.
“Why not?”
“They’d never do something to deserve being hurt,” I say with a shake of my head.
“I don’t think I’ve actually heard you say the same for yourself, Andi.”
Her words have me pausing. She’s right. There’s still a big part of me that thinks it’s my fault.
“Who told you it was your fault?” Nancy pushes.
I pick nervously at my cuticles.
“My mom,” I mumble. “First thing she asked after I woke up in the hospital was what I had done.”
“The mother-daughter relationship is a complicated one. It runs incredibly deep. I’d like for us to work on deciphering what exactly is her voice and what’s yours. It’ll take a while and a lot of work for it to become natural, but that sort of shift in mindset can be liberating.”
“That—that makes sense,” I nod. “God, am I glad to have met you.”
“Of course, I’m glad it was helpful,” Nancy says, offering me a warm smile. “Now tell me about this man and why you think you have daddy issues.”
“Oh, well, he...” I wince, remembering Leo. And Beck. “Actually, I think it’s more like three.”
Elijah’s comment about my mother flashes through my mind.
Blood doesn’t mean you have to lie there and take it.
I’m not going to lie, those words... that flash of protectiveness, it was one of the most attractive things a man has ever said.
“Okay, maybe four,” I say, burying my face in my hands again. “Though only one of them is old enough to be considered diagnosable criteria for Daddy issues. Though, maybe entertaining the idea of four men fits some criteria on its own, so—”
“I’m going to slow you down for a second.
First things first, age gaps, while they may in some cases be problematic, don’t mean that you can’t have fulfilling and meaningful relationships.
Second, packs are becoming increasingly more normal.
It seems the thought of these two things is bringing you significant anxiety, so let’s unpack that. ”
“The—the alpha, the older one, he’s old enough to be my dad,” I explain. “He’s totally the kinda guy my mom would go after. Hell, I’ve genuinely had the thought that she’d probably try to seduce him if I ever introduced them.”
My shoulders curl forward at my words.
“I guess that’s my mom’s voice coming out, then. I think... I think it’s my mom’s voice coming out when I get anxious about having a pack, too. Because when I think about what I want, it’d be pretty nice to have a pack.”
Hindsight is twenty-twenty, but I’m really starting to realize that even when things were “good” between Ezra and I, he wasn’t necessarily the best boyfriend. I was always consumed with being the best girlfriend, but I don’t think he offered me anywhere near the same consideration.
Nancy lets me sit in silence while I parse through my thoughts.
“You know, the whole ‘what’s my mom’s voice and what’s my voice’ has me thinking,” I murmur. “We—the guys and I—we talked about my dad. I think that’s the first conversation I’ve ever had about my dad that didn’t end in disaster. That’s never happened before.”
“It’s natural to wonder about your parents. Especially if you haven’t had a relationship since you were a child.”
“I barely remember him. I don’t even know if I could describe his voice,” I say with a shake of my head. “I barely remember anything from when I was a kid. It’s frustrating. I feel like there’s something wrong with my brain. I wasn’t a baby when my mom left him. I should remember him, right?”
“The brain works to protect us. Sometimes, that means limiting our ability to form memories if there’s a lot of stressful events going on, especially when we’re children.”
“How am I supposed to figure out who the guy was? It’s not like I can ask my mom about him. She... goes crazy if I even mention him,” I say, running a hand through my hair.
“Have you ever thought of reconnecting with him?” She asks the question gently, but it doesn’t dampen the impact.
Have I?
I think I can honestly answer that question with a hell no.
My mom would lose her shit if she knew I went and saw the guy.
“But—but he abused my mom. I’d—I’d be betraying her if I went and saw him, right?”
“His relationship with your mother doesn’t mean that any desire you have to meet him is invalid. You have a right to know where you come from, Andi.”
I grip my hair, tugging until I feel a burn against my scalp. The pain grounds me, keeping me from getting swept away in the torrent of thoughts.
But Nancy’s gone and done it. She’s opened Pandora’s box. There’s no going back now.