Page 79 of Ruthless Blade

"I've hurt myself," I admitted. "Not in a way to end things, but ways to make the pain go away. To make things more quiet. I haven’t hurt myself in six months.”

"Thank you for telling me that." Her voice was quiet, too quiet, and it made me regret saying it out loud.

Was she going to ship me off? Was she going to get me admitted to a hospital now?

“Going forward, I want us to focus on that. I don't want you leaving today feeling shame. It sounds like you found a way to survive something that felt unsurvivable, using the only tool you had access to at the time. That doesn't mean it was the healthiest tool. We're going to work on building better ones together. Let me be clear, surviving isn't something to be ashamed of."

My chest loosened, and a heavy breath was released.

"I don't really know what I need," I muttered. "I've never let myself think that far ahead. It's always been about getting through the next hour, the next day."

"We don't have to solve all of it today. That’s why we do this in sessions, so we can work together to help you heal." She offered a small, reassuring smile. "What I'd like to do, if you're open to it, is to meet once a week for a month. We'll work through the accident, the guilt, your relationship with your mother, and build out some real tools for the moments when the urge to hurt yourself shows up. Does that sound okay?"

"Yeah," my voice cracked.

"Good." She glanced at the clock. "We're almost out of time for today, but I want to leave you with one thing to sit with. You came in here not knowing what to expect. You said some things with me that were incredibly hard for you to share. That takes courage. You need to give yourself some credit. Even though it may not seem like it, you are finding ways to heal.”

I nodded, swallowing the giant lump in my throat. My eyes glistened and I tried to force back the tears.

"Same time next week?" she asked.

I stood, grabbing my bag off the floor, and nodded. “Thank you.”

Hazel sat outside, waiting for me in her car. I opened the passenger door, and climbed inside.

“How’d it go?”

A sigh escaped my lips as I rested my head on the headrest. “Better than I thought it would.”

“Well, do you want to talk about it over dinner?”

My stomach rumbled at the thought, a smile appeared on my face. “Yes, the same place as always?”

She rolled her eyes, and put the car in reverse. “Yes, you dork. Got to have your queso.”

Damn right I did, especially when the emotions were high.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

KAYDEN

Buffalo, New York. It was June, and the weather was decent with highs in the seventies and lows in the fifties.

We hadn’t gotten to do much exploring yet, as the combine and interviews took up most of the time, but celebrations were to take place after the draft, if there was a reason to celebrate.

My eyes roamed the mirror, looking at the suit, trying to adjust it. It feels wrong. Like I’m wearing someone else’s clothes.

The navy fabric was crisp, tailored perfectly to fit my shoulders and chest, but it was like a costume. Like I was playing a part I hadn't quite grown into yet.

My phone buzzed on the dresser. I picked it up, half-hoping it was her, but it was Dylan.

I frowned, wishing I could get her out of my head.

Dylan: Are you ready?

I stared at the message for a minute. Was I ready? Fuck no I wasn’t. I wanted to puke if I was being honest.

Me: I guess.