Page 138 of Run to Me

“How did you feel about the change? It’s your biggest one yet, correct?”

I inhale and release a deep breath. Although I have a long way to go before I’m comfortable changing things associated with my childhood, she assures me we’re making progress in my treatment. “Yeah. I wasn’t excited about it, but afterward…I don’t know. The house felt brighter, I guess.”

“I’m not asking how the house felt.” She doesn’t baby me, that’s for sure.

Shrugging, I say, “I felt lighter.”

“Light space, light mind,” she says, chuckling to herself. “And you’re wearing a grey shirt. That’s new.”

Pinching the fabric, I study the solid, light grey T-shirt that fits a little looser than what I’m used to. “My sister-in-law bought it for me.”

Tatum bought me a colorful variety of shirts, most of which I’ll never wear. It’s funny how Jake gets to wear black shirts, but I’m being forced to switch up my wardrobe. I should’ve never mentioned the “light space, light mind” concept to Tatum. She’s taking it to the extremes. The walls of my parents’ house—my house—are now a color called Dreamy Creamy Latte.

“Go, Team Jensen!” the doctor cheers, pumping a liver-spotted fist in the air. She’s a quirky old woman. “And who did you say no to this week?”

I scrub a hand against my shorter beard, then rake it through my trimmed hair and blow out a breath. Denying even the smallest request for help isn’t easy, but it’s freeing in a way. I’m not stretched as thin or always exhausted.

The downside to not being busy is the room left in my schedule for thinking. As always, I only think about one person.

I can paint walls or donate my mother’s wedding dress or reframe the family photos. I can say no to every request, pushing against my need to help others. But nothing will ever change when it comes to Maisy. To silence the doubters, I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut and pretend otherwise.

Answering the doctor’s question, I say, “Lydia, who owns the coffee shop, asked if I could help her haul a chair she found at a resale store.”

“And what was her reaction when you said no?”

“She patted my arm and said not to worry; she’d ask Menchy for help. He owns the hardware store.”

Dr. Sims nods, a pleased smile smoothing the wrinkles in her lips. “You’re doing well, Jensen. You should be proud of your progress so far. It’s not easy for most people to accept change. Humans are creatures of comfort, after all. But you’re breaking the barriers your mind has constructed, and each wall that comes down is a win.”

“Thanks.”

She eyes me for a few seconds, her pen hovering above her notepad while I shift in my seat because I know what comes next. “Have you tried to make contact?”

“No.”

She tilts her head, eyebrows raised, silently asking her standard follow-up questions.

Have you followed her?

Have you looked at her social media?

Have you inquired about her?

Have you driven by her house?

I repeat the honest answer I give her every session. “No.”

Maisy’s still in Walford. As promised, she stayed. I’ve seen her around town, going to lunch with friends and such, but I’ve kept my distance. If I had been close to her during this time, I wouldn’t have noticed the changes in her. She’s relaxed. She smiles more and wears less makeup. These differences may seem insignificant to anyone else, but they’re big and meaningful. She’s settling into Walford, and I hope and pray she’ll be settling down with me in the end. I’ll find out soon enough.

Dr. Sims clasps her bony hands together and says, “Tomorrow’s the big day.”

“Tomorrow’s the day,” I say. Despite my easygoing nod, my heart rate spikes from the thought of talking to Maisy again. Or worse, not talking to her because she wants nothing to do with me.

“How do you feel? Are you ready for whatever comes?”

I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Honestly, I’m nervous.”

“If she wants you in her life, she’ll come to you. Respect her choice, no matter what decision she makes.”