CHAPTERSEVEN
Snow
“So, how are you feeling?” Ariel asks as we take our seats in Shane’s study. It’s decorated nicely, with a huge desk by the window, looking out to the road. He has a lot of built-in bookshelves in here that I would love to fill with all my favorite books and then some. I know Ever loves to read as much as I do. The sofa near the other window is large and soft—so soft you could sleep on it. Other than that, there isn’t anything on the walls or any other furniture, but it’s still nice in here. Comfy.
“Better each day, thanks to you.” I’m honest as I answer the question this time, and a genuine smile graces my face.
“Actually, it’s you,” she says. “You’re the one who is healing, talking through things. You’re a strong woman and should be proud of yourself.”
“I don’t feel like it sometimes,” I mumble, running my fingers through loose strands of my almost-white hair.
“Because of yesterday?” she asks, appearing concerned.
“Yeah.”
“Let’s talk about that.” She seems to study my reaction, crossing her legs at the same time. “Did you leave because you felt uncomfortable?”
“I guess, in a way.” I lift one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. While I was in the hospital and then here under the watchful eye of Shane, Ivy, and London, they were the only ones I talked to. Shane kept the others away. I was embarrassed about the whole ordeal. I’ve said it before—I chose Ben over all of you.”
“Love makes us do crazy things sometimes.” She waves her hand nonchalantly.
Sighing, I reluctantly agree. “I guess.”
“We don’t see you any differently. We care.” Ariel reaches over and pats my hand. “We want to see you smiling and laughing again.”
“I’m getting there. I feel like a child, running off like that.”
“You did say you were sheltered as a child—only home and dance, right?”
“Yeah.” I stare at my lap, chipping the polish from my nails.
“So, you didn’t get much of a childhood.” Ariel says this as a statement, not a question, and she’s right.
“Not much of one.”
“I think you’re growing up. Not to mention, you took it upon yourself to get out of an abusive situation. That shows growth . . . and strength a lot of women don’t have. It’s a sad reality. You should be proud of yourself.” Ariel pauses as if in thought. “Any more nightmares of late?”
I take in what she says about survivors of abuse before I answer her question. She’s right, and it is something I’m incredibly fortunate to have lived through. And honestly, if she hadn’t pointed it out, I may not have realized it.
Clearing my throat, I reply, “Yesterday was the first time I slept through the night.”
“Yeah? That’s awesome. What changed?”
“Um . . .” My face instantly heats up, and there’s no doubt in my mind I’m blushing like a teenager.
“Oh, girl, this should be juicy.” She slips into friend mode, but still remains professional.
“London came to talk to me, and once I stopped bawling like a little girl, he took me to Shane’s room to watch TV. I fell asleep. When I woke up this morning, they were both in the bed, and Shane’s arm was around me. I felt . . . safe.”
“That’s wonderful, Snow.” She clasps her hands together, meeting my gaze. “Safety is paramount when working through a traumatic experience. Now”—She clears her throat, arching a curious brow—“Nothing happened, though?”
I almost choke at what she’s implying. Not to mention her seamless transition into “bedroom” shenanigans. “No, but I felt warm and fuzzy.”
She giggles. “Oh, man.”
“Is it wrong to like him? He did just go through a breakup.”
“You mean Shane?” she asks.