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"Many people like to use a sliding scale, kind of like the pain scale at a hospital. Except I like to be more positive, so my ten is feeling great instead of excruciating pain."
"What is one on the scale then?"
"One is wanting to hurt yourself badly." He tilts his head. "Does that sound like a scale you'd be interested in using moving forward?"
"I think so. Yeah." I look down at the water lapping softly against my stomach. "Today I'm a… 4? Maybe? Or… a 3? A 3 earlier. A 4 now."
He smiles. "I'll take that. Can I ask - have you ever been a 1?"
"Yeah." I curl my fingers in the water, trying to grip the nothingness of it. "I don't want to talk about those days. Is that… okay?"
"Of course." He pauses. "Is there anything in particular you would like to talk about today, Casey?"
I consider that as my fingers navigate the reflection of lights along the water. There are a lot of things I should talk to him about. Not being able to shower. Not being able to lay on a bed. Not eating well. Not sleeping well. The triggers and the panic attacks and the bone deep depression. But there's one thing I have to know first. The only thing that matters.
I look at him when I ask, not wanting him to be able to lie. "Do you really think someone like me can get better?"
"Yes," he says without an ounce of hesitation. "I've seen it. Many times."
Fear and hope war inside my chest. My voice trembles as I ask, "How do I start?"
"Well, before you left with Carter, you and I were talking through some of the things DuGray made you believe about yourself. Let's start there."
Chapter Thirty-four
Jake
The first night of Casey being officially back, he doesn't come to my room until nearly midnight. He smells of pool water and salty tears, his skin pruned and slick, his eyes rubbed red.
“This is why I call you my little fish, you know,” I tease him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.
“Mmm.” He fights a yawn. “I like that.”
I try not to chuckle at how fucking adorable he is. “Sleepy?”
“Mhm.”
“Bath first. We don’t want that chlorine rash to come back. Then sleep.”
He's quiet as I guide him into the bathroom and start filling the tub, blinking sleepily as he leans his head against the wall. His eyes fall shut for good once he's in the water, a soft breath escaping him.
"Long day?" I ask, not sure if I should be worried or not.
"Long," he agrees, resting his cheek against the lip of the tub. His eyes stay closed, a surprising peacefulness stretching across his features. "Good, though. I don't know why I stopped talking to him after leaving here. I know Carter doesn't like him, but he helps me."
"I'm glad." I run my hand through his damp hair, smiling when it makes him hum and shiver. He's like a kitten. I bet if I let myself, I could make him fucking purr. "Let's wash you up quick and get you to bed, sleepy boy."
"Your sleepy boy?" he asks, his blue eyes cracking open just enough to expose the vulnerability in them.
I've already told him he's mine, even when I knew it was wrong. This could be my moment to correct it. To explain I don't mean it romantically - even if I'd give anything for him to be mine in that way. But I can't get myself to do it. I'm selfish, clearly. I don't want to let go of the fantasy. I don't want to let go of him.
Not yet.
So, I say, "Yes." And then, "All mine."
His smile is quick and bright and breathtaking.
It's enough for me to consider letting him be mine for real, consequences be damned.
