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But what’s worse is that I have no idea when it’s all going to catch up with me, only that I’m no longer able to run.
Chapter Four
Willow - One Month Later
Twistingmyfingerstogether,I sit straight in the chair and take a deep breath. My therapist, Gretchen, watches me carefully but doesn’t speak, waiting for me to go first.
“I want to try hypnotherapy,” I state plainly, my voice devoid of the nervous waver I assumed would come considering I’m terrified by the prospect.
It’s been almost a month since I found out the truth about Jesse, and I’ve been trying to process everything that happened between us—on the mountain and in the week leading up to it—but I’m still at a loss. Especially now I know we share a past and I can’t remember any of it. No matter how hard I try.
Jesse’s called a few times too. And sent messages. But other than his message about Tate, I mostly ignore him, only sending the occasional “when I’m ready” text here and there. Because while I desperately want to know what happened twelve years ago, I’m not ready to face him. And I want to find out as much as I can on my own. In case he lies to me again.
I am grateful for one thing, though. He was right to think that Tate was on my mind. I hate that I know he was involved, but have no details on the how or why. So, the fact that he’s not around does put me at ease, just not fully settled.
Which leads me back here. Searching for answers.
I haven’t been to regular therapy sessions for years, but after everything I went through recently, I felt myself spiraling again, and couldn’t let the darkness take over. I haven’t yet broached the topic of why I’m really here.What I know. But I told Gretchen about Lucia naming her daughterJade, and how the mention of her name still affects me all these years later, and that seems to be reason enough. It’s not a lie—while Lucia has had someone take over running her shop in the short term, I still see her and Jade around town on occasion and it hurts. It’s just not themainreason for needing these sessions.
But everyone keeps things from their therapists, right?
“I’ve mentioned hypnotherapy in most of our sessions,” Gretchen says, her pen poised at her notebook, ready to write down her secret observations. “Can I ask why today? Has something changed between when I last saw you and this moment?”
Of course, she can’t get straight to the hypnosis. I should have preplanned a response.
“Nothing’s changed,” I say, and it’s not exactly a lie. I still don’t remember. “I just need answers and nothing else seems to be working.”
“Okay. I do need to let you know, as I’ve said before, there are no guarantees that this will work. The longer a patient goes without regaining their memories, the lower the chances they ever will.”
“I know.”
“Perfect. Let’s get started then.”
She motions for me to move to the couch, and a shiver runs through me. I’ve always preferred the chair over the couch. I never lie down in our sessions. But I guess it’s a must with hypnotherapy.
When I’m settled on the long burgundy chaise, Gretchen dims the lights. “Now close your eyes and breathe slowly,” she says softly. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
I do as she asks and wriggle slightly until I’m comfortable, a nervous energy running through me.
“I want you to listen to my voice, and my voice alone. Focus on that; block everything else from your thoughts. From your mind. And breathe.”
I breathe in deeply and listen to her calm, rhythmic tone, praying for this to work.
It has to work.
The alternative is to visit Jesse for answers, and despite my parting words to him up on the mountain, I don’t want to do that. At least, not yet.
***
Even after the forewarning, I’m still disappointed when the hypnotherapy doesn’t work, telling me just how much I was relying on it to save me.
Gretchen schedules a few more sessions, but it does nothing to ease my mind. I wanted to remember something. I’m desperate to. Even the smallest little detail, just to prove to myself that it’s not gone. It can’t be. I spent years thinking all was lost, and that I’d never know.
But now that I’m finally trying…What if I was right?
I’m tired for work the next day, but unlike in the past when I would have tried to hide it, I own it, even yawning as I greet my store neighbor, Debbie, on my arrival. Instead of my usual cheery hello, I smile, but I don’t mind that it doesn’t reach my eyes. I’m allowed to be tired. Everyone’s tired.
When it gets to ten and I’ve only had one customer, I find myself scrolling the online news to pass the time. And an idea hits me.
