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He nods. “So you don’t have to worry about that. You just have to focus on healing.”
“Okay.” It still seems odd the state will pay for it. Maybe it’s an Oregon thing. “I’ll talk to her and then decide if I want to keep seeing her.” What can it hurt to meet with her once? Especially if Troy finally lets this therapy thing go.
“That’s all I’m asking. I promise, it will make a difference. If you don’t believe me, you can talk to Lucas. I’m sure he’d be happy to talk to you about it.”
My gaze drops to my food, and I stare at the casserole without seeing it.
Maybe he’s right about the therapy. I’ve hung out with Lucas twice already, and I would never have guessed he has a traumatic past. He and Simone appear so happy, so in love. Would it even be possible for me to feel that way again?
No, because Lucas fought an enemy he didn’t know. The man I loved ended up hurting and manipulating me.
But how long do I plan to let him have this hold over me? Don’t I deserve to get my life back? A life without nightmares and flashbacks and feeling like I’m trapped in a windowless room with no hope of escape?
I’ve taken steps to start over, but how much of a new life will I have if I’m still chained to my past?
“No. That’s okay.” My gaze flicks up to Troy. “I don’t need to talk to Lucas. So, when am I supposed to meet with the therapist?”
“I’ll call Robyn tomorrow morning and let her know it’s a go. I’ll get back to you about the day and time. Because you aren’t a military vet, she can only see you after she’s finished with her clients for the day. That’s usually around four p.m.”
“I can do that.” Then I won’t miss any time at work.
Troy smiles, seeming relieved to be finished with this conversation. “How did work go today?”
“It was good. I didn’t have a flashback, always a bonus. But you already know that. Zara told you.” A small grin plays at the corners of my mouth.
He has the decency to look sheepish.
“How’s the planning for the festival going?” I ask, happy to change the direction of the conversation. And because I am interested to hear more about it.
“I need to create several committees. The project’s too big for one person to take on. If I can get enough people to help out, it’s a go.”
“I’ll help. I would love to be part of it. I think it’s great what you’re planning to do.” I studied journalism to make a difference, and I still want to make a difference, somehow.
“Are you sure? Given everything you’re dealing with, maybe helping with this isn’t good for your mental health.”
I shake my head. “You’re wrong. It’s exactly what my mental health needs. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll ask Robyn what she thinks. Okay?”
“That would make me feel better. I don’t want to set back your recovery because I asked too much of you.”
I stab my pasta with my fork, hungry now that I have a purpose, something to feel good about beyond fixing up this house. “What committee am I on, and when do we meet?”
Troy shakes his head, his expression ping-ponging between amusement and exasperation. “Get Robyn’s approval first, and then we’ll discuss what committee you want to be on.”
I grin, enjoying this game between us and hold out my hand for him to shake. “Alright, Mr. Carson, you have yourself a deal. I bet Robyn will be begging you to let me on a committee.”
Troy’s expression shifts firmly to the amused side of the fence, and he shakes my hand. His brown eyes sparkle warmly in the kitchen light. “Oh, she will, will she? Any particular committee?”
I nod, more enthusiastically than I have in a while. “Anything where writing is involved.” The only writing I’ve done lately is copying out Iris’s journals. I still can’t believe Iris was Angelique.
I live in a house that once belonged to a freaking SOE agent.
32
TROY
March, Present Day
Maple Ridge
