Page 59 of Letters From A Stalker

I wait. He waits.

I narrow my eyes. “That was a real good.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

“You did the face.”

“What face?”

“The one where you silently question everything I say until I eventually start doing it for you.”

Something faintly amused moves through his expression. “I wasn’t aware I had one.”

“You do.”

“I’ll work on that.”

“No, you won’t.” I roll my eyes at him.

This time he actually smiles.

“My week really was good,” I continued, settling deeper into the chair. “Nothing exploded, my mother and I are speaking, work is normal and nobody died. I feel like that qualifies.”

“By most standards.” Kai chimes in.

“Exactly.”

He watches me for another moment before his pen finally moves. “How did you feel?”

I let my head fall back against the chair and stare at the ceiling. “You just couldn’t leave it alone.”

“Occupational hazard.” His voice reaches me.

“I felt normal.” I bring my gaze back to him and search for something more specific before he can ask. “Better, I guess. Lighter. Last week was easier than the one before.”

There is something different about today already. The room feels easier. Maybe because I’m not arriving here carrying a week’s worth of panic beneath my ribs. Maybe because the last session proved I can sit in this chair and talk about something complicated without leaving barely capable of remembering how I got home. Or maybe I’m simply getting used to him.

Kai sets the pen lightly against the page. “Did anything from our last conversation come up during the week?”

I think about the question instead of immediately reaching for whatever answer sounds easiest.

“I noticed I’m much better at saying no when I don’t have to worry about whether someone will still love me afterward.”

His gaze sharpens slightly.

“Has something out of the ordinary happened that you had to say no to?” The question leaves him so fast that it makes me feel as if he’s thinking of something specific, but I can’t figure out what that would be. A memory pops into my mind and leaves just as quick and I decide to ignore it. Not today.

“No. Just in general.” I murmur and hold his questioning gaze before his eyes fall back to his notepad.

“And what about people you do love?”

I shift slightly in the chair, drawing one leg closer beneath me while I turn the bottle of water between my palms. “That’s harder, but not necessarily because I’m afraid they’ll stop loving me the second I say no. It’s more complicated than that.”

Kai doesn’t immediately reach for another question. He watches me for a moment, then settles the notepad more comfortably against his knee.

“What does complicated look like with your mother now?”

The question makes me exhale through my nose.