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“Simard? Any relation to Raven Simard? She was onThe Right Life. Do you know who I mean?”
“Yes, they’re sisters.”
He cocks his head to one side and wrinkles his forehead. “Didn’t Raven die?”
The elevator doors slide open, and my insides are a mess. I lead the way to our room while tonight’s dinner threatens to make another appearance.
It’s hard to believe I’m actually going to tell him. It’s so different to do this in person rather than online, and with someone I’m falling for.
While still nerve-racking to post your innermost thoughts and fears online, there’s also distance from it all. In person is overwhelming.
I tap the keycard against the door and pause to peer at Tom over my shoulder. “Yes. Raven committed suicide.”
“Shit.”
“Everly is her older sister, and she started the Raven Mission in her honor to raise awareness and support for those battling mental health issues. Toronto has the largest facility. There’s another in Vancouver, and she recently opened one in Montreal.”
I kick off my heels and drop down onto the couch. Not one to put space between us, he sits next to me and turns to face me so our knees brush.
“Meeting Everly, it was just so strange. We didn’t know each other until that night and yet, it was easy to talk to her. I suppose some of it had to do with how open and honest she was about her pain and loss.”
I want to add that it’s also surprisingly easy to talk to him, but I’m scared to say that out loud. What if I’m the only one feeling this way? The only one who thinks we have a strong connection.
“Everly inspired me to share my story. Let people know they weren’t alone.” I fiddle with the edge of the belt on my dress, suddenly self-conscious of how willing I am to expose myself.
But to not just anyone. To Tom.
“You mean dealing with anxiety and depression?”
“Yes. You know, it’s slowly changing. More and more people talk about their mental health, and the stigma is less, but it’s a process. Sadly, it still exists. Everly thought—given who I am and the circles I run in—I could be another example for those who are afraid to seek help or share their stories.”
“Yeah, I think she’s right.”
Tom’s agreement, no matter how small, boosts my confidence. “I wasn’t sure how to help, and it wasn’t much—only a series of social media posts.” My response and the corresponding shrug belies how significant and daring that step was for me.
How I bared my soul and posted without my mother’s consent. Tom might never fully understand the drama I unleashed with that single, honest act.
“The outpouring from people who felt the same way, the ‘thank yous’ and relief at knowing they weren’t alone—it was overwhelming and terrifying. Everly was thrilled. She told me I had a voice, a calling. People connected to me, and I could help make change.”
“That’s amazing. I’d love to read the post.”
I slump into the cushion, not caring how defeated I must look to him. “You can’t. I had to delete it.”
“What? Why?”
“My social media account is considered a representation of my father, the Price name, and his business. I can’t simply post whatever I want.” My voice is deliberately cold and robotic in the way it’s been drilled into my head over and over by my father and his people.
“That’s bullshit. You were being real. It isn’t like you were using drugs or posting nudes or whatever. And even at that, it’s your choice.”
My cheeks redden. “Yeah, well, he didn’t see it that way. My posts aside, Everly offered me a job at the Mission. She wanted help in expanding across not only Canada, but all of North America. I wanted to do it. I wouldn’t be the first person to advocate and raise awareness of mental health, and I’m certainly not famous like the actors and actresses that support similar causes—”
“But you’ve got a voice and people listen.”
A flush washes over me. “Dad thought she was using me and that I’d only bring disgrace and shame to my family. They refused to let me take the job with Everly. In fact, he doesn’t even want me talking to her.”
“And what do you want?”
Water pricks at the back of my eyes, and one lone tear streams down my cheek. He wipes at the wetness and offers soft, caring words. Every time he asks aboutmyneeds and wants, he undoes me.
