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“She was hurting,” I whispered.

“Yes.”

“She hated herself.”

“Yes.”

“I was so mean to her.”

Sydnee nodded. “You were.”

I laughed. “Damn. You could’ve disagreed.”

“I’m your therapist, not your hype woman. Do you know what I noticed about this letter?”

I shook my head.

“You spent almost the entire thing insulting yourself. But even at your lowest, you protected your future self.”

I frowned. “How?”

“You didn’t take him back.”

I looked down.

“You didn’t believe you deserved happiness yet, but you still refused to return to something you knew would keep you from finding it. That was growth before you even recognized it as growth.”

Sydnee put the letter on the table between us. “So let’s go back to Nash.”

I groaned. “Can’t we be done?”

“No.”

“I just cried enough water to end a drought.”

“We have seven minutes. What happens if you fall deeply in love with Nash?”

“I could get hurt.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

I frowned. “What do you mean, and?”

“What happens if you get hurt?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

I stared at her, and she nodded toward the letter.

“It’ll probably hurt.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll probably cry.”