I shrug. “Then it sounds to me like you weren’t actually in a relationship. You were being held hostage.”
She’s quiet for a minute before asking, “Why does that make me feel better?”
“Because it’s making you see what happened isn’t your fault.” I hate that she ever tried to hold onto any responsibility for the abuse she suffered. It’s disgusting that victims are madeto carry the burden of their suffering while also being judged for ‘allowing’ it.
But what were you wearing?
Why didn’t you just leave?
You shouldn’t have been drinking.
You gave him the wrong idea.
“It feels like it’s my fault.” Brooke drops my eyes again. “I thought I was smarter than that.”
“You are brilliant.” I tip her head back until she’s looking at me again. “Pricks like Matt don’t go after stupid women. Controlling someone like that wouldn’t feed their ego.”
“I don’t want to feed his ego.” Her eyes narrow. “I want him to starve.” There’s a sharpness to her tone that hasn’t been there before.
And I love it.
“Your lips to God’s ears.” I like the idea of Matt suffering. Would love to have the opportunity to be the one inflicting at least a little bit of it.
Brooke blows out a breath, her forehead dropping to my shoulder. “I don’t want to think about him anymore, but I do. I don’t want what he did to keep affecting me, and it does.”
I wrap my arms around her, pulling her closer. “I don’t know if you can control that.” I drop my head, breathing against her hair. “But I do think you might benefit from finding a therapist who can help you get as close to that goal as possible.”
Her head tilts, cheek resting against me. “I wouldn’t even begin to know how to find a therapist.”
“I do.”
Brooke straightens, eyes wide with surprise as she looks at me. “How do you know how tofind a therapist?”
I give her a grin. “You didn’t think I figured everything out all on my own, did you?”
It took me a few years to suck it up and admit I didn’t know shit, but once I did, a whole lot started becoming very clear. Like how I had a fucked-up view of what love should look like thanks to only seeing one side of my parents’ ‘picture perfect’ marriage. Like how my expectations for myself might be a little higher than is healthy.
Like how I was going to have to learn to be happy alone, because I’m not someone who’s willing to settle.
“You went to therapy?”
She sounds skeptical. And I get it. I’m not the only one of my brothers who could use a little help in the emotional development department, but so far, I’m the only one who’s gotten it. A fact I’m a little too smug about.
Probably something I should talk about during my next appointment.
“Still go.” I smooth a hand up and down her arm. “I meet with Burt over Zoom every two weeks.”
Brooke just stares at me, looking stunned by this revelation. So I keep going, spilling all the reasons behind the decision.
“I was really struggling for a while. Having a hard time facing the way my future was going to look.” I take a deep breath, preparing to confess something I’ve never admitted to anyone. Not even Burt. “There were a couple times I thought maybe I didn’t want to be around to see it.”
Brooke gasps, one hand lifting to her mouth.
I always tried to be the easygoing brother. The funny one. I do my best to be chill and laid-back and not take shit too seriously. But not taking shit seriously is what left me lonely and depressed.
Burt helped me see some things don’t matter and somethings do. I’m still easygoing and funny. Chill and laid-back. I still don’t take much seriously.
But now there are a few things I don’t joke about.
