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Chapter Nineteen
Savannah
“Let’s talk.”
His words were calm, but I wouldn’t have blamed him if he were upset.
I’d resorted back to “Last Week Savannah” and allowed that damn devil voice to speak louder than the voice of reasoning. I didn’t just leave him—I freaking fled his apartment.
He had every right to be upset with me.
“Savannah,” he said gently when I didn’t move from my spot. “Please come and sit with me.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, before even moving. “It was just...”
Ryan stood then and came to me instead. He gently pried my fingers apart so he could hold my hands.
“I love you,” he said softly, looking into my eyes. “You have to believe that. You have to trust it. Or else we’re doomed before we even begin.”
“No, I know.” I was nodding my head with tears threatening, but I squeezed his hands. “I know. Just, after the high of the day and the weekend, it all just kind of came to a halt. It was really hard hearing you tell Bella my words, and then walking in to you and Bella talking, it brought all those feelings back again. And I know it was childish to run rather than confront it. You. Her. All of it,” I added with a quick roll of my eyes, which allowed tears to drop over my lower lid. I groaned and tried to brush them away, but Ryan wouldn’t let go of my hands. “I called my therapist. I’m going to do an emergency session with her at the top of the hour. I just...need to talk to her.”
I was on the verge of telling him that I was sorry I couldn’t talk to him, but he wrapped me in a hug. “Good. I’m glad. And if you need me, I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere, Savannah.”
Wrapping my arms around him too, I hugged him tight. “Thank you. For understanding.”
“Savannah Slate, I’ve walked many miles by your side. I get you.”
I didn’t answer him, but that was because he knew that I knew.
He knew me.
Just like I knew him.
And I was starting to trust that that was enough.
Ryan
She chose to set up her laptop at the kitchen counter, but told me she didn’t want me to hide away in the bedroom. She wanted me to stay. I sat by her side as she joined the mini-chat room she’d be using with her therapist, and when she asked me to find a notebook for her, it was only then that I got up to leave.
By the time I got back with the pink college-ruled notebook that had been in her bedroom, the screen was open and her therapist was in view.
“You must be Ryan,” she said, with a kind smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you over the years.”
I moved my hand awkwardly in a side wave, as I put Savannah’s notebook down and resumed my seat at the stool beside her. “That’s me. I’ve heard a lot about you, too.” I’d never sat in on one of Savannah’s sessions—the majority of them had been done in person, but for maybe a handful for some reason or another—so I’d never actually met her therapist, but outside of Savannah’s friendship with me, and her familial relationship with her father, her therapist was the one person who had been in Savannah’s life for many years.
“Savannah says she’s comfortable with you being here for the duration of our session, and I told her what a big step that was for her. I know you are one of the few people she trusts, but to bring you here is a big deal.”
While I knew that she wasn’t being judgmental in the least, I felt like she was warning me. This was a big deal. I knew from many of the times Savannah came over, post-sessions, that they wrung her out emotionally. Even if the session was only thirty minutes long, she would be nearly comatose afterward, and just wanted to veg on the couch.
We did that often in our teens.
Just sat in silence with one another, with a stupid show on the television.
I don’t think I realized then what a big deal it was, for her to come over straight after a session. But as we got older, and I started to put pieces together—she wasn’t quiet because she was sad, but because she was tired; she wasn’t tired because she stayed up all night, she was tired because of a therapy session—I took thrill in the fact that when she needed those moments to decompress, she came to me.
“I only want what’s best for her,” I admitted. “And over the years, I made some bad judgement calls in that direction. But we spent the weekend working them out.”
“So I’ve heard. All right, Savannah. You called because you said you had some moments you wanted to talk about. How are you feeling now, knowing that we’re going to get into them?”
