In under half an hour, we had all of her things packed up-well, the stuff she intended to take-and her father had the maid help us carry the suitcases down. They filled up the backseat and the trunk with some judicious Tetris-style packing.

As I pulled away from that horrible house, Avery broke down, crying into her hands. "I can't believe that worked. I can't believe I'm free."

"We'll be all right," I promised.

Not now, but one day we would be. Hope opened like the first blooms of spring. While leaves might be dying all around us, falling off the trees, winter never lasted forever.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.

For the first month after Rob left, I stalked him online. I set up Google Alerts and I kept track of him long-distance. Nadia also sent updates because she knew I was still crazy in love with him, even if I was pretending otherwise. I drove his parents to the doctor a few times, and work was still fine because Davies didn't know Rob was gone, and I saw no reason to inform him. Avery and I did pretty well together. Half the time, we hosted girls' night at the house. She didn't talk about her issues and I said nothing about Rob.

But in early December, I suggested the idea that had been chewing at me since she moved in. "You think we should see someone?"

"Like a psychic?" She was pretending not to get it.

"No, more like a therapist. I don't want to medicate, but I need to get a handle on this, and I can't live my whole life avoiding the things that freak me out."

"And I clearly have some...feelings to process."

I nodded. "We could talk to the same person, if it wouldn't be weird, share rides, and then get dinner afterward. I don't know about you, but it makes it seem less...drastic, if you're in it with me."

"That sounds like a good idea."

After dinner, we got online and searched. Avery read over my shoulder while I eliminated people based on c.r.a.ppy websites. She added, "n.o.body local. You know how word gets around in this town. There might be a confidentiality agreement but someone will see us go in the office, and my dad will mobilize."

"Agreed. We can drive to Edison or Whitney." I hesitated, unsure if I should ask this. "Have you thought about pressing charges?"

She didn't ask who I meant. "Constantly. I even looked up the statute of limitations."

"s.h.i.t. Has it been too long?"

Avery shook her head. "But the timing is awful, comically appalling. If the abuse happens when you're a minor, there's no limit to when you can file. But once you turn twenty-one, if you don't report it in four years-"

"Then the b.a.s.t.a.r.d gets off scot-free. So if you wait for your trust fund like your dad wants, you also let the clock run out on prosecuting your uncle. You keep quiet and take the hush money or you blow the lid off and take your chances in court."

A nod, as she pushed her food around her plate. "I weigh it constantly. I might be able to challenge my dad as executor of the trust, but if the criminal trial goes against me, it's likely that any civil challenge won't go well, either. I might end up dragged through the mud, lose my future financial security and come out with nothing."

"While your uncle gets away with what he did."

"That's why I flipped out on your boss. They always seem to. I don't have the power my dad does. You're the only person I've ever told who believed me."

I hesitated. "I can't tell you what to do. You're the one who will have to tell the story, over and over. But regardless, I think we both need some outside help."

"How about this one?" She tapped the screen to bring up the website.

The design was nothing for me to complain about, simple and functional. I read the woman's qualifications, along with her welcome message.

In our sessions, we'll concentrate on you as a person, and I'll help untangle the emotional knots so you can enjoy life again. Right now, that may seem impossible, but it's not. Together, we'll identify challenges, discover solutions and collaborate to make you feel whole. I have twenty years of clinical experience (background in psychoa.n.a.lytic therapy), but I now prefer a more personal approach. Don't fight this battle alone. Call my office to make an appointment today.

I glanced up at Avery. "What do you think?"

"That I'll be scared, no matter who we call. She looks like she'd be easy to talk to."

Clicking on the woman's picture to enlarge it, I studied her face. She was in her late forties with gla.s.ses, long salt-and-pepper hair caught back in a careless braid. Then I nodded.

"Let's do this."

Two weeks later, we had our first appointments. Some people might think it was weird to do it back-to-back, but I needed the moral support. It was harder than I expected to walk into the office and dump my crazy on a stranger's desk. But she was supportive, warm and kind.

"So, Lauren, before we get started, what are your goals? And what would you say is your biggest challenge right now?"

Online advice had suggested I prepare a summary of my biggest issue, so I just read that to her, and Dr. Reid nodded. "Social anxiety is a common problem. We'll work on it. Today, I'd like to get to know you, so why don't you tell me about yourself?"

"Like what?"

She smiled. "Anything you like."

By the time I left, I didn't feel like such a mess. This time, there had been no invasive questions, though Dr. Reid did direct me occasionally or ask for clarification. Avery went in after me, and I read on my phone while I waited for her. She was shaking when she came out, but she mustered up a real smile as we paid.

"It's...it was good," she said, as we went out to my car.

"Do you think every two weeks is too often?"

"In my case, it might not be often enough. But I can't afford more."

"Me, either." We were both doing private pay. So I couldn't manage tuition, living expenses and therapy on a weekly basis. "Did she offer you a prescription?"

"Nope. You?"

I shook my head. "If she had, I'd be looking for someone else. That's not what I want out of this collaboration, as Dr. Reid puts it."

"That's how I feel, too. I've got a lot of anger stashed away."

"For obvious reasons. Are you hungry?"

"I didn't think I would be, but yeah. Do you want to text Krista and Jillian, ask them to meet us at Patty's in an hour?"

"Sure. Do you plan to tell them...?" I didn't know how I felt about that.

She shook her head. "Jill's starting to feel left out because she can tell that you and I have gotten close. The other day, she asked why I moved in with you so suddenly, why I didn't talk to her first if I was thinking about getting a place. And what can I say? I'm not ready to tell anyone else. It was hard enough to dump it on Dr. Reid, and that's her job. If I decide to press charges, then I'll start with telling Jillian. When I think of how long she's stood by me, even when I was horrible to her, I feel like such a b.i.t.c.h for not wanting to open up."

"Wow. I had that same situation going with Nadia."

"Does she know you're in therapy?"

I shook my head. "I suck. The worse it got at Mount Albion, the less I told her. I got so busy pretending to be happy that I forgot how to be a friend."

"I know how that is." Avery was obviously talking about Jillian.

"I think she'd just want you to feel better." From what I'd seen, Jill was a h.e.l.l of a good friend, loyal to a fault. Which was why she'd been like a pit bull after me when she thought I was cheating with Rob.

"I hope so. I hurt her feelings, and that sucks so hard. But I don't know what to do."

"So you're buying her pancakes?" I grinned as I merged onto the highway.

"Hey, she loves them."

"Who doesn't?"

In a few minutes, we got affirmative texts from Jillian and Krista, though she warned us her mom was busy, so she'd be bringing Naomi. I hadn't seen the baby often since the seemingly endless night of her birth. Counting back, I realized she had to be seven months old or something like that. Holy c.r.a.p.

"Something wrong?"

"I was just realizing how long I've been home."

Avery nodded. "Almost a year."

"Wow. I'd say something like, 'Time flies,' except then I'd have to beat my head repeatedly against the steering wheel for being such a verbal cliche."

"Then we'd spin out of control and end up in a s...o...b..nk."

"Don't worry, we'll live to eat pancakes for dinner."

The weather made that tough, however, as halfway to Sharon, the light snow turned into serious weather. It reminded me of driving back to Michigan with Nadia, last year after Thanksgiving. I hadn't wanted to leave at all, but at that point, I wasn't ready to admit how bad things had gotten. It took a serious f.u.c.kup for me to take stock and admit I had to change everything, or I might self-destruct. This trip didn't end in a c.r.a.ppy motel, though. I got us safely to Patty's Pancake House, where Jillian and Krista were already waiting; they had a booth with Naomi in a high chair at the end.

"This is crazy," Avery said, bending to kiss her on the head. "How can you be this big?"

I wouldn't have pegged her for a baby person, but she talked to Naomi more than the rest of us, even Krista. Jillian had lost a little weight but I didn't say anything because it always p.i.s.sed me off when people commented on it with me, like being skinny was my chief goal in life.

"So what brought on the midweek pancake craving?" Krista asked.

Avery shrugged. "I just wanted to hang out with you guys."

"This isn't an official girls' night," Jillian pointed out. "Does this mean we can talk about guys?"

"Sure, if you want." I had nothing to say on that topic, but I was happy to listen, especially if someone had good news.

Krista handed Naomi a cracker, just before the baby lost patience with our blather. "I'll start. I just found out that Kenji will be stateside in March."

That was only three months away. No wonder she was so excited. "Oh, my G.o.d, that's amazing news. For leave or...?"

"Nope. He's earned enough for college, and he's coming home."

In her shoes, I'd be having panic attacks over him finishing his tour. If he were my fiance, he'd explode in my head, over and over, only days before he boarded the plane, and he'd die, never having seen his baby daughter. That kind of s.h.i.t burrowed deep into my brain, until I couldn't think about anything else. Thanks to Dr. Reid, I had some idea how to stop the mind worm, or at least keep it from ruining my life. Not that I was fixed after one visit. There was a long road ahead, but I had the stamina to survive it.

"Congrats, that's fantastic. Will he let you keep coming to girls' night?" Jillian asked.

"Let me, ha. You don't seem to understand our relationship. I do what I want, and he loves me." She grinned as she ate the rest of her bacon.

That sounds...perfect. Worse, it sounded like how it was with Rob. Pain throbbed through me, a reminder that I'd pushed for a clean break. And I got one. Now the only news I had about him came through Nadia or the internet. Now and then I dug up articles about Hot Property, a few pictures circulating on TV blogs. Like an obsessed fangirl, I'd downloaded a professional one, where he was posed in front of a woodsy backdrop, smiling for the camera. He looked impossibly polished and handsome. Now it was the screensaver on my laptop, though I'd die before admitting that to anyone.

"Me next." Jillian rapped on the table to pull our attention away from the awesomely romantic soldier's homecoming.

"Go for it," I said.

"So I've been dating this guy, off and on. He travels a lot...he's not even from here, but this weekend, he asked me to be his girlfriend."

Krista grabbed for Jill's phone. "Pics or it didn't happen."

Shoving her away, Jillian flipped through her gallery until she found the right shot. "Here, it's a selfie but you can see more of Ben's face than mine."

Avery leaned over to check him out. "Wow, he's hot."

He was blond and tan, what I'd call a surfer guy, but if he traveled for work, and he was wearing a suit, the look must be misleading. Mentally I rated him as cute, but nowhere near Rob's level. Of course, I was biased. I hadn't looked at a guy s.e.xually since we broke up. A few dealership customers had hinted they'd take me out if I gave the go-ahead, but I always shut them down. Mentally and emotionally, I was a mess.

"Definitely." But there was just no way I could resist. "So does this mean we get to call you Billian? I don't think I can stop myself, the train has left the smush-name station."

"Whatever." Jillian flipped me off but she was smiling.

"Tell us about him," Avery ordered.

Apparently Ben was a regional salesman of office equipment, not terribly fascinating, but I wasn't the one who'd have to talk about his job with him. As Jill ran out of steam, Naomi decided she had been ignored long enough and pitched a fit. Sighing, Krista took her to the restroom to change her diaper. I so couldn't imagine myself in her situation, and for a moment, I entertained the idea that Nadia might have grabbed the smart end of the stick by coming into a kid's life after he stopped c.r.a.pping his pants.

Avery paid the check while Jillian and Krista were gone. I narrowed my eyes at her but I didn't argue. It was her way of trying to make it up to Jill, the fact that she was keeping secrets. Maybe pancakes weren't a magical fix, but her heart was in the right place. Krista hurried out first, baby cuddled against her.

"This has been awesome, but I need to go. I try not to disrupt her routine too much. So how much do I owe? Are we splitting four ways?"

I hugged her. "Don't worry about it. Just take Naomi home. Text us when you get there."

"Okay, I'll get it next time. Say bye to Jillian for me!" Krista hurried out into a night that was rapidly getting snowier.

"I guess the party's ending early," Jillian said, coming back in time to see Krista back out of her parking s.p.a.ce.

"Babies ruin everything," I mumbled.

Avery smiled with a melancholy air. "That's definitely the message in every teen drama I've ever watched. 'Don't do s.e.x, girls, you'll get pregnant and die.'"

I nodded. "Harsh but true."

"I'm off, too," Jillian said. "Not to interrupt this depressing convo, but y'know."

She didn't offer to pay, which made me wonder if this was how Avery and Jillian operated. Like Nadia and I didn't always talk like we should, but sometimes we made other gestures full of subtext. Maybe friendship didn't have one concrete definition, one certain way to be; maybe it was enough to love somebody however they let you and for the pieces to click in, however felt right.