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“That’s understandable,” she said. “And it must’ve made the relationship between you and your sister very strained growing up.”
I shrugged. “I adored her. She’s impossible not to love. And none of it was her fault. She didn’t ask to be perfect. She didn’t ask for our parents to constantly shame me and praise her. I never really started feeling the disdain for her until—” I stopped myself short, swallowing hard.
I wassonot going there today.
A knowing look flashed in Dr. Casson’s rich brown eyes, but she must’ve seen my determination and pivoted. “Can you remember a time you did fully trust someone? In your family or outside of it. Can you remember the last time someone made you feel safe to just be you and not who your parents wanted you to be?”
“Do you think if we climbed on these tables and screamed at the top of our lungs that anyone in here would notice?” I asked, whispering in Jim’s ear as we sat in our designated spots in our high school’s cafeteria.
His light green eyes flashed as he looked at me before scanning the cafeteria. It was packed with the entire junior class, all stoically silent and listening aptly to a guest speaker from some corporation or another. There had been three of these this week already and I was so bored.
“Feeling a little restless?” he asked, and warmth shot through my veins.
Jim and I were only in the flirting stages of our relationship, but heaven help me I couldn’t get enough of this boy.
“That,” I said. “But also, I don’t think any of them would bat an eye. They’d never jeopardize their future by giving attention to an outburst.” I practically radiated my father when I spoke the words.
Jim laughed, and I couldn’t help but look at his full lips. God, I bet he was a great kisser.
“Don’t worry,” I hurried to say. “I won’t corrupt you.” I was here because my parents wanted me in the most prestigious private school available. Jim was here on a scholarship. One strike and he’d be sent packing.
“If you want to get up on these tables and scream, I’m right there with you.” A smirk shaped his lips, the kind that made my heart flutter.
“Really?” I asked, mystified by the boy who never seemed to care about my wild tendencies, didn’t criticize me for getting lost in the music and dancing wherever I heard it, didn’t chide me for spicing up our strict uniforms with whatever accessories I could sneak past the uptight school admins.
Jim cocked an eyebrow at me, his smile infectious as he stood up halfway from his seat, placing his hands on the table like he was about to climb on top of it.
I grabbed him and hauled him back down, barely suppressing the giggle bubbling in my chest. A few people glanced our way, but dutifully ignored us.
“You’re ridiculous,” I whispered, downright beaming at him.
He shrugged, eying the hand I still had on his forearm. “I may be ridiculous,” he said. “But so are you. And in a place like this?” he nodded toward the stoic room. “I think that means you’re stuck with me.”
“Anne?” Dr. Casson’s voice pushed me out of the memory. “Where did you go just now.”
I blinked a few times, hating that the memory felt like a warm blanket and a dream all at the same time.
“There was someone,” I said. “Once. In high school.”
“Oh?” she asked, grinning. “An old flame?”
“You could say that.”
“And how did this person make you feel safe?”
“He liked me for exactly who I was.” I sighed, relaxing a bit in the chair. “He never asked me to change.”
And he never, not once, compared me to Persephone.
“And what happened with him?”
“My father didn’t approve of our relationship,” I said, shoving down the flickering pain from the old wound. “Jim’s father passed away when he was a kid, and his mother barely made ends meet waiting tables. He wasn’t exactly what my father viewed as VanDoren relationship material.”
“Ouch.” Dr. Casson furrowed her brow. “Did you ever reach out to him after you were out of your parent’s control?”
I laughed at that. “I’ve never been out of my parent’s control. To this day they use my inheritance like a bargaining chip. Besides, I’m sure he’s married with four children and a pair of chocolate labs by now. Probably has a white picket fence and everything.”
I looked down at my nails, pretending to examine them while she studied me. I didn’t want her to see the regret shining in my eyes. Didn’t want her to see the pain I felt over never trying to reconnect with him. But in the end, it was for the best that my father tore us apart.
