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Doctor Masterson’s frown deepens. “You don’t have to give up your life for his. He has to bear some responsibility. You need to set limits and give him a bit more credit.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I thought I was following your advice.”
Doctor Masterson shakes her head. “I was wrong about him in some ways. You should talk to your brother. He’s a lot more perceptive than you think.”
Without waiting for a response, she leaves the room. I answer a few emails, her words lingering in my mind the entire time.
I duck out to check on Brian, finding him in his room, scrolling through his phone. I step in, let the door click shut.
“You got a minute?”
Brian doesn’t respond.
“I wanted to talk to you about something. I’ve been spending my time with this woman,” I blurt out.
“I knew it,” Brian interrupts, his head whipping in my direction. Then he holds the phone up to my face and points. “See? I knew Kevin was going to make a move on Vanessa when I was out of the picture. I never liked him.”
I peer at the picture on the screen and then look back up at his face. “You should be trying to avoid social media. Keeping tabs on Vanessa isn’t going to make you feel better.”
Brian waves my comment away. “Everyone has their own coping mechanisms. I don’t judge you, do I?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “This isn’t healthy, Brian. You need to be looking forward, not back.”
He gives me an incredulous look. “How can you say that when you know how much she means to me?”
I open my mouth and slam it shut again.
Brian goes back to his phone, and I exhale.
When I leave the room, there’s a pit in the center of my stomach, and I’m angry at Doctor Masterson for getting my hopes up.
Brian is nowhere close to being ready. He’s still the selfish and distracted, obsessed with the past.
And until he gets himself together, my days with Danielle are numbered and fleeting.
Chapter Twenty: Danielle
I pick up my phone and toss it back onto the couch. Then I practice some deep breathing while trying to empty my mind, I wander over to my laptop.
When I sit down at the desk, my fingers pause over the keyboard. I’ve avoided my therapy homework all day, but I know I can’t show up empty-handed.
Not unless I want deal with Doctor Sheridan’s disapproving looks.
I hate not staying on top of things, but it feels like there isn’t enough space in my brain with everything else happening.
Every time I think I’m closer to understanding Adrian and getting a handle on his triggers and mood swings, he proves me wrong and takes me right back to where I started.
A part of me hates that I hang on to his every word, waiting for scraps of his affection whenever he has the time to toss them my way.
The other part of me knows I’m too invested to walk away.
It's too late for me to turn my back on him, but I can’t help but wonder what would happen if I did. With a frown, I minimize the empty Word document and glance at the airline’s web page.
I use the cursor to hover over the closest date, two days from now, and frown.
In spite of my better judgment, I spend my entire internet hour with my hand hovering over the cursor, and a headache beginning in the back of my skull.
Why can’t I figure out what I’m supposed to do next?
