“Harper.” Indira stood too, choosing her words carefully. “Maybe you should think about going to therapy. I know you said you went as a kid after what happened with your mom, but maybe it could help. Your anxiety … You shouldn’t have to live like this.”
The monster clawed protectively at Harper’s torso and she leaned into its embrace. Anxiety was terrifying to live with—but so was the idea of not knowing who she was without it. Thoughts looped and rushed and collided into this all-encompassing energy that fueled every step, heightened every emotion. It left Harper feeling out of control of her mind, but afraid of what would be left if it were gone.
“I’m fine.”
“Therapy is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not ashamed of therapy. I’m a therapy graduate. I learned what I needed to learn,” Harper said. There was no way she wanted to confront the unhealed wounds that festered below the surface.
“I don’t think therapy works like that, babe,” Indira reasoned. Harper stared at her, cold numbness tingling down her limbs.
“Is it…” Thu cleared her throat and looked at the ground. “Is it because you don’t want to talk about your mom?”
Harper jerked away, hunching her back and wrapping her arms around her middle.
“Thu, don’t,” Harper warned. The room started spinning.
“I know we don’t talk about it, but you know your mom would be so proud of you, right? She’d love you no matter what and wouldn’t want you to torture yourself like this. Killing yourself over school and residency won’t bring her back, Harper. You know that, don’t you?”
Silence descended on the room. Harper’s blood pounded behind her eyes, making her see red.
“Get out,” Harper whispered.
“We’re only try—”
“Get out!” she screamed, thrusting a finger toward the door. Her friends hesitated for a moment before snatching up their things and making their exit. Thu stopped at the edge of the room and looked over her shoulder at Harper.
“I only said that because I love you.”
Hot tears spilled from Harper’s eyes as she stared at Thu. Wanting to scream. Wanting to lash out at her words. A humming filled her ears, and her body felt like it was about to fragment into a hundred pieces.
Thu met her eyes and continued. “If you want to go into tomorrow pretending this didn’t happen, we can do that. If you need to call and scream at me, we can do that too.”
Harper couldn’t speak, her chest rising and falling against jagged breaths. She couldn’t get enough air into her damn lungs.
“And if you do ever want to talk about it”—Thu shrugged—“let me know.”
Harper waited until she heard the door click shut before crumpling to the floor and crying. Her body shook and her mind raced and her heart felt like it would punch out of her chest or stop working all together. She cried until her throat ached.
She cried like a child who needed her mother.
CHAPTER 24
HARPER
Harper spent the next two weeks avoiding Dan, using finals and the school’s short winter break as excuses to gain some distance. She’d resolved to tamp down everything she felt for him. No more gushy heart-eyes at his smile. No more giddy squeals at his texts. She even turned down his offers for coffee.
It didn’t do her much good.
A part of her mind was constantly circling around him, and it was exhausting to pretend to feel less than she did. But she created these boundaries and she needed to stick to them.
On Friday night, she holed up in a study room at school, determined to make serious progress in her Clinical Results of Fixed Prosthodontics textbook. Except it was boring as shit, and her mind kept turning to daydreams about a cute guy.
Her phone buzzed and her hand shot to it with embarrassing speed. She tried to hush the flood of excitement as Dan’s name lit up her screen.
Are you at school?
Before she could stop and think too much, she shot off a response.
Yeah. Studying:/
The speed of his answering text made her smile.
I’m here too. Want some company? Feel like I haven’t seen you in a while
She tapped out a reply, but her finger hovered over the Send button. She missed him. She missed Dan in a way she shouldn’t. Her throat ached with it. She hit Send.
Would love some. Study room 112 in the basement
Balance, Harper reminded herself. You are capable of balance. Probably. A little time together won’t make the world crash down. She thrummed her fingers on her textbook and made a valiant effort to pretend to read it. Her phone buzzed again. Thu.