Page 150 of Twisted Needs

I laugh under my breath, rubbing my thumb absently over my knee. “Thank you,” I say quietly. “Seriously. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Helen’s expression softens.

There’s something strange about growing up with a therapist. Helen has seen every humiliating version of me imaginable over the years. Seventeen-year-old me who couldn’t stop having panic attacks. Nineteen-year-old me who thought functioning entirely on caffeine and academic validation counted as success. Freshly twenty-one-year-old me spiraling so violently after being so fucking down bad for Parker. And somehow she still looks at me like I’m someone worth being proud of.

“Alright,” Helen says finally, clapping her hands together once. “Back to business. It’s been two weeks.”

“Listen.” I hold my hands up immediately in surrender. Helen narrows her eyes knowingly through the screen. “I have been doing a lot of self-improvement,” I explain. “And a lot of self-discovery.”

“It just sounds like you haven’t been following my sound advice,” she says dryly. “Go ahead and confess. I’ll see what I can do.”

“No, really,” I insist, smiling. “I feel so…” I pause for a second, trying to find the right word for it. “Normal, I guess.”

The second the sentence leaves my mouth, Helen’s entire expression changes enough that I can tell she understands exactly how significant that statement actually is coming from me.

The word normal has been something buzzing around in the back of my head more frequently, and I think that’s a good thing.

“And you’ve still been writing?”

“Religiously,” I nod. “Especially the last couple weeks. It’s been really good for my head.”

“Good,” she says firmly. “Good.”

“I actually wanted to talk to you about writing,” I say eventually.

Helen leans back slightly in her chair. “Okay.”

“I got offered a ghostwriting internship.” I rub the back of my neck, fighting the nervous edge that starts to brim. “I’d be in New York for three months.”

Helen’s eyes widen immediately. “That’s incredible, honey. Look at you.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, smiling despite the knot twisting slowly in my stomach. “I feel really good about it, but…okay,” I say carefully. “I’m not saying I’ll never leave D.C. because obviously I want to travel and stuff eventually.”

“Sure,” Helen nods. “Continue.”

“But it’s three months I’d be missing out on being here. With my friends.” I hesitate briefly. “With Parker.”

Helen’s face remains professionally neutral, though I still catch the microscopic flicker in her eyebrows. “And you two are…” she prompts carefully.

The smile that spreads across my face happens before I can stop it. I press both hands dramatically against my chest. “I’m so happy,” I tell her honestly. “Like…happy in a way I genuinely don’t think I’ve ever felt before.”

Helen’s expression softens almost immediately. “You feel loved,” she says simply. “That’s amazing, Anderson,” she cheers. “And if being with him is what’s making your life feel stable and fulfilled, then you should take that seriously.”

“What if I don’t want to do the internship?”

“Really?”

I shrug one shoulder, staring down at my hands. “I love writing. Obviously. But I also love where things are right now.” My throat tightens slightly around the admission. “I’m finally in a place where I feel stable. I have amazing friends. I’m with a man who loves me and takes care of me.” I let out a quiet laugh. “I don’t even get stress headaches as much.”

“So you don’t want the internship?” she asks. “Or do you not want to leave?”

“Maybe a little bit of both,” I admit. “I know it’s contradictory, but the part about the internship that excites me the most is that it’s in New York.”

“Right.”

“But I don’t want to be without Parker for that long, y’know. He’s my safe person and I’ve really come to terms with that. Like—I know being codependent isn’t always healthy, but I don’t think I could function properly without him.”

Helen smiles knowingly. “I think I might agree with you. If stability is your priority right now, then building a strong emotional foundation is not a failure,” she says. “People act like choosing happiness means you’re settling somehow, but that’s not true. Better opportunities will still exist later. Your life doesn’t end at twenty-one.”