Page 162 of True Blue

“Did he seem hurt?”

Petra’s voice comes clear through my headphones as I grab a couple of my old medical journals and place them in the large desk drawer. It’s Ellie’s desk, which I think was Pop’s desk, and it has two deep drawers perfect for books. Well, until I can get some new bookcases. My other books will remain in boxes at the storage facility until then.

“No, I don’t think so,” I answer Petra’s question. “But I just felt… I don’t know, like I did hurt him. I got a little scared and just sent him away abruptly. It was… mean.”

“But why are you assuming you hurt him?”

I sigh, closing the desk drawer. “Because of his mother and how she treated him.”

“If he said to stop, would you have stopped, or would you have pushed him?”

I almost feel offended. “I would have stopped immediately.”

“If he set a boundary and told you to never do that again?”

“I would never do it again.”

“And how did he look?”

I pause, swallowing hard and my eyes fall closed for a moment as I picture the look on his face.

“Like a hungry bear,” I muse.

Petra laughs. “Well, I don’t know everything about his mother, but I think he was more than happy with your dominatrix coming to the surface.”

“Oh, God,” I say, rubbing my forehead roughly. “That was so…”

“Hot,” Petra giggles. “I bet he thought so too. That’s why he looked hungry. He wanted to eat you for dessert, but all he got was blue balls.”

“Petra,” I say, my voice wobbling in a way that cuts off her laughter. “I’m scared. I don’t… I’m not looking to enter into a nature versus nurture debate, but what if it’s in me? What if my parents are in me? Mean and uncaring. And what if I just fucking traumatized him?”

“Listen, at worst, you were mean. Maybe cruel. You’re human; you were cruel to him. He’s human; he was cruel to you. You guys are both hurt; you’re both navigating something new. I think you guys really need to talk about this. You’re making a lot of assumptions. I think that is what’s killing you.”

“I know,” I sigh, pulling at the small, center drawer in the desk. But it sticks. What the hell? “I’ll… talk to him.”

“Good,” Petra says, before asking softly, “Do you forgive him?”

“Yes,” I say instantly, a smile growing on my face. “Yeah, I think I forgave him back in Florence. My hurt just… wouldn’t let me acknowledge it, though. But I forgive him.”

“Then tell him that,” Petra says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “You’re allowed to be petty, Indie. You’re human. And then forgive yourself. Remember—there is no harm that does not offer something good.”

I sigh. “Thank you, Petra.”

“Let me know how it goes!”

“Will do,” I say, before we say our goodbyes and hang up.

Frowning, I take my headphones out of my ears and place them on the desk before I work at getting the drawer open.

It feels like something is blocking it. Grabbing a ruler, I stick it in there and wiggle it, trying to push down whatever is jamming it.

“Come on, you son of a—yes,” I hiss when I successfully pull open the drawer. Then a gasp escapes me when I see it.

“Oh, my God…”

“Indie!”

Teddy answers on the second ring, sounding surprised, breathless, and… happy. To hear from me? Well, that’s a good sign. Maybe he doesn’t hate my guts. Maybe he doesn’t think I’m an asshole.