Page 136 of Josephine and Clay

“That has rarely stopped anyone.”

A laugh breaks out of me, but it’s ugly and wet and immediately turns into another sob.

He doesn’t crowd me. He just reaches for the box of tissues on the counter and sets it beside my hand.

I take one. Then three.

“I don’t know what to do,” I say, the words spilling out before I can organize them. “I was going to tell him,” I admit softly. “I just… every time I try, something happens, or he pulls away, or I lose my nerve.”

Dr. Harris is quiet. “The father?”

I nod.

“Is he local?”

I wipe my cheeks, then laugh once without humor. “Very.”

“Does he know?”

“No.”

“Do you want him to know?”

“Yes.” The answer is immediate and terrifying. “He deserves to know.”

“But?”

“But he’s complicated.”

“Most people are.”

“No, I mean…” I close my eyes again, trying to turn Clay into something that makes sense in words. “He’s restless. Injured. Angry sometimes when he thinks no one is watching. And lately…”

I hesitate, trying to explain something that barely makes sense even to me.

“Lately he acts like he’s already halfway gone before anyone can decide they don’t want him there.”

Dr. Harris studies me quietly. “That sounds lonely.”

The word lands harder than I expect. Because underneath all Clay’s charm and recklessness, that’s exactly what I think he is.

“I was going to tell him,” I say quickly. “At breakfast. It’s just… the timing has never been right.”

He smiles faintly. “The right moments are a myth. There are only honest ones.”

That makes my chest ache. “I don’t want to trap him.”

His expression softens. “Telling someone the truth isn’t trapping them.”

“It can feel that way.”

“Maybe. But hiding the truth to manage his reaction isn’t fair to either of you.”

I look down at the tissue twisted in my fingers.

That’s exactly the sort of reasonable statement I would appreciate if it were about literally anyone else.

“I know I could do it alone,” I say quietly.