We both must’ve been exhausted because we slept for almost another twelve hours straight. When I woke up the next morning, I had a couple of minutes of peace before the memories of my conversation with my parents hit me.

“Shit,” I groaned.

Faith rolled over and wrapped her arms around me. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Or yours.”

“But it feels like it is. I already felt like shit because I wasn’t the one behind the wheel when we got into the accident. How am I going to move past the guilt of knowing that Declan died in order for me to live?”

“I don’t have all the answers. Or any of ‘em really,” she sighed. “But I think I know someone who can help.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. Hold on a second.” She rolled out of bed, padded across the floor to where her purse was on top of the dresser, and dug through it. When she climbed back onto the mattress, she handed me a cream-colored business card.

“What’s this?” I asked, flipping it over. “A therapist?”

“Yeah, she’s the best one Sarah had me talk to. I’ve seen a few others over the years, but I never really opened up to any of them. This one was different though. Or maybe it was just me who was different since it was after the transplant. Either way, she helped me move past some of the shit from my childhood, and I thought maybe she could help you too.”

“My parents wanted me to talk to someone after the accident. I went in a few times, but the guy didn’t exactly inspire confidence. He seemed like a pompous douche to me.” I went over what my parents had told me about their decision to withhold the truth from me back then. “I guess he might’ve been the one to suggest to them that I wasn’t able to handle what’d really happened to Declan. So my instincts might’ve been right when it came to him.”

“Will you give her a chance? For me? I can promise she’s not a douche.”

“I already figured that out since you’d never open up to someone who didn’t earn your trust.” I glanced down at the card again. “I guess if there was ever going to be a time when I’d need therapy, this would be it.”

“Can I call and make you an appointment? If I explain the situation, I can probably get you an appointment for after hours today since I’m a former patient.”

“Will it be too weird for me to use your ex-therapist?”

“Actually,” she drawled. “I was kind of hoping we could both see her.”

“Shit, baby. I’m sorry. I hadn’t even—”

“Stop.” She pressed her fingers against my lips. “What I’m feeling right now pales in comparison to what you’re going through.”

I nipped at her fingers. “Doesn’t matter. Even at my lowest, I’m always going to want to take care of you.”

“And that’s one of the things I love most about you. But you better get used to it going both ways because this relationship is a two-way street, babe.”

I leaned in closer and murmured against her lips, “That’s my tough girl.”

“Damn straight.”

“Yeah. Go ahead, baby. Schedule us appointments with the therapist.”

I was shocked, and a little bit impressed, when she was able to get us in at five o’clock that night. We spent the day doing a whole lot of nothing. My dad had let me know in a text message that I shouldn’t worry about missing work because he’d arranged for me to be out on a “special project” when I sent him the text last week. He hadn’t even known what was going on with me at that point other than that Faith and I had an argument, but he’d still covered for me because that’s just how my dad was. He did whatever had to be done to make sure I was protected. He always had, and that was the ironic part of this whole thing since my parents’ desire to protect me was the reason why they’d decided not to tell me the truth five years ago.

“You okay with this?” Faith asked, pressing her hand against my leg to get it to stop jiggling. We were on the couch in the therapist’s waiting room, and I was nervous as fuck.

“Yeah.”

“You sure? Because we can bounce and figure something else out if you don’t want to talk to her. Or I can leave if you’d prefer it was just you.”

“Stop.” I tilted her chin up and pressed a gentle kiss against her lips, not liking the worry I saw in her pretty eyes. Especially since I wasn’t sure if it was there out of concern for me or was because of a lack of confidence in how I felt about her. “If I’m here, you’re here. That’s how it’s going to be for a while unless I have to be in the office. I don’t care if that sounds needy as fuck, or codependent, or wherever the hell you want to call it. After the shit we just went through, I need you near.”

“I do too,” she admitted softly.

I figured she did, and it was part of the reason why sticking close to her was so damn important to me. The way I’d handled the situation had given her doubts. In herself and in us. Now that I’d managed to pull my head out of my ass when it came to our relationship, I was going to fix that for her. Period. End of story. No matter what other shit I had to deal with in my life, Faith came first.

“And my only experience with therapy didn’t go too good, so it helps that you’re here.”

“Always,” she promised. “Even though you don’t need to worry. Mrs. Crabtree is nothing like the psychiatrist you saw before.”

I chuckled at her name, shaking my head. “I still can’t believe your therapist’s name is Crabtree.”

“Yes, it presents an uphill battle with some patients. I probably should have given it more thought when I agreed to take my husband’s name and use it professionally.”

I turned towards the door that had been closed ever since the receptionist led us into the waiting room and let us know the therapist would be done with her last appointment soon. A tall woman with black hair liberally streaked with gray and kind, blue eyes stood there. Even though she was dressed nicely in a long skirt and button-up blouse, she didn’t quite fit how I expected a therapist to look. She seemed more the grandmotherly type.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“There’s no need to apologize. You know what they say about eavesdroppers and hearing nothing good about themselves. I’ve certainly heard worse.” She waved off my concern. “But I’ll keep on eavesdropping anyway, because it usually gives me an excellent opportunity to get a picture of how people behave when they think they aren’t being observed by a trained professional.”

She walked towards us, and I stood up when Faith did but awkwardly hung back as they hugged. Faith wasn’t affectionate with many people, and seeing her reaction to Mrs. Crabtree helped to alleviate any lingering doubts I had about this being a good idea.

“And you must be Dillon.” Mrs. Crabtree beamed a smile my way. “I’m sorry you two are going through a difficult time, but I’m so glad to have the chance to meet the guy who put in the effort in to break down Faith’s walls. Even with the short amount of time I talked to her on the phone earlier today and observing you for a couple of minutes, I can already tell you love her very much. I can’t tell you how happy that makes me since Faith is a special girl.”

Those doubts that had already been wiped away? They were replaced by approval with the way she was talking about Faith. It wasn’t just what she said, either. It was how her eyes and voice softened. I knew she wasn’t just bull-shitting me. She really cared about Faith, and that was all it took for me to feel comfortable. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“So.” She clapped her hands together. “Who wants to talk to me first? Or do you want to come in together at first? You guys are in control of how you want this to go.”

I turned to Faith. “What do you think, baby?”

“I’m okay with whatever you decide. I know I didn’t handle everything very well in the beginning”—she lowered her voice and stepped closer to me—“when you were gone. But I swear I’m on top of it now. It’s you I’m worried about. With you at my side, I’m already in a better place. I know I’ll be able to work through my issues and move on from here. But you? You got knocked down really fucking hard by all of this, and I don’t know how you managed to get back up again because this is some heavy shit to deal with.”

“I got back up because I have you.”

“And now I’m going to be totally unprofessional and start crying,” Mrs. Crabtree mumbled. I turned to find her dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “I should probably tell you guys that it would be better to speak with each of you in private so you don’t feel the need to police your thoughts out of a desire to protect each other. But I can’t help but observe that it looks like it’d take a crowbar to pry you two apart from each other at the moment.”

“Probably because it would take more than a crowbar,” I muttered, my hand wrapping around Faith’s and tugging her even closer.

“Together,” Faith blurted out. “We’d like to start together.”

“Okay, then let’s do this.” She opened her office door and led us inside. Faith and I sat next to each other on the couch, and Mrs. Crabtree took the chair that was perpendicular to it. When she got settled, she smiled at both of us but settled her gaze on me. “Faith told me a little bit on the phone this morning; about your brother’s death, the transplants, and how you just discovered the truth. I’d like if you could describe it to me from your perspective.”

"I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Why don’t you start with a happy memory of your brother? And then we can move on from there,” she suggested.

So that’s what I did. I spent the next hour spilling my guts to Mrs. Crabtree with Faith’s hand clenched in mine. When our time was up, my heart felt a little lighter, but I knew we’d barely made any progress. I wasn’t even sure how she was going to be able to make my world right again. Not with Declan gone. “The person I feel like I need to talk to about this the most is dead. What am I supposed to do about that?”

“I have a suggestion, but I don’t think you’re ready for it yet. I’ll get you there, though. It’s just going to take some work.” She smiled at us apologetically. “And most of that’s going to need to be one-on-one.”

“Whatever it takes, Doc.” I had to find a way to come to terms with everything that had happened. For myself. For Faith. And for my parents.