Read If My Wishes Came True Online Free by Nathalie Theodore

Please let it be brief. Please don’t let this be like last time.

“Hey, you okay?” Vanessa asks, her forehead creased.

Now I see that she put my smoothie on the island in front of me. I must have spaced out for a minute.

I swallow a sob, which strains my throat. I fight my tears, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this act.

I am not okay.

I haven’t been for a long time. Not since November 9, 2002, when Hunter called and told me?—

“Jenna?”

I look into Vanessa’s concerned eyes. She’s sitting next to me now, at the island. I take my gaze down to my lap, where I see my hand in hers. A tear falls onto our intertwined fingers.

My shoulders slump from the tension I’m holding in my body. I’m so damn tired of fighting, I want to crumple into a heap on the floor.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I say out loud, although I’m not sure I meant to.

“Do what?” Vanessa asks, tenderly squeezing my hand.

I look up at her again. “I can’t keep pretending I’m fine.”

Eventually, I tell her my story.

It’s all out of order, though. I start with what Grady did to me—but for that to make sense, I have to tell her about my relationship with Dex. And for her to understand why Grady taking a picture of me sleeping was especially triggering, I have to go back and tell her that my ex, Alex, did the same thing to me in grad school. Except that I was naked in that picture, with only a bedsheet covering me from the waist down.

She already knows what happened with Scott, so I don’t have to revisit that mess. But as I watch her process my past, I can tell she knows there are pieces missing from the puzzle.

Finally, after two cups of tea and a lot of prodding, I tell Vanessa about Hunter.

I cry, and cry, and cry. And while I’m crying, she holds me.

Could this be the reason she came into my life? A therapist with a heart of gold who cares about me? Who listens without judgment and wipes away my tears?

All I know is, I feel a huge weight lift after being honest with Vanessa. But when I tell her that, she makes it clear that this is only the beginning of my path to healing.

“I’m going to print out a depression assessment, so I can help you figure out where to go from here.”

After I answer each question, I give her the assessment to score. When she’s satisfied that I’m not a danger to myself, her shoulders relax, and relief washes over her face.

But she insists I see a therapist.

“You need a professional to help you process what happened with Hunter,” she says, gently.

It’s the same advice my sister gave me years ago. I wish I had listened. This is only the first time since then that I’ve been so depressed I couldn’t get out of bed—but what if it’s not the last?

And even though I’ve been functional in between these episodes, that doesn’t mean I’ve been happy.

Let’s face it: what Christy said to me on the phone the other week is true. I’m miserable living without love in my life. Idowant a relationship.

I want a relationship with Charlie.