Page 59 of The Dark Before Light

“You look like a wet hummingbird.”

“Someday the world will kneel to you.”

“I was wrong. You’re not a bird, after all.”

“You’re a lioness.”

“Birdie. Your name is Birdie.”

“Go on, take it.” Kieran nods to my neck. “I figured you liked them since I’ve never seen you without that necklace.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you. But I can’t accept it.” The words are the right ones, but I sound all wrong. Flustered. Upset.

His gaze sharpens. “It’s a bird. You like birds. Accept the gift.”

I don’t like birds, actually. At least not any more or less than other animals. If I were strapped to a table and tortured, I’d still be hard-pressed to explain why I’ve been wearing a necklace with a hummingbird pendant for the last ten years and have only taken it off to clean it.

Is it because of him? No doubt. But it’s just as much true that it’s not about him at all. It’s about me. My metamorphosis. My growth. My pain and the claws I grew to protect myself from more.

It makes no sense.

It means everything to me.

Swallowing the absurd urge to laugh until I cry, I reach out. My fingertips graze his palm as they close around the small figurine. The wood is warm from his hands, the shape a little lumpy and rough.

It’s perfect.

“Thank you.” I make myself set it down on the worktable, then stand. “And thank you for your candor tonight. I feel really good about where we are with your therapy. How are you feeling?”

My voice still isn’t quite right, but there’s nothing to be done about it. I’m in free fall. I need him to be gone before I hit the surface.

Kieran’s gives me another thoughtful look—the one I’m beginning to fear more than any other. To my relief, he finally answers, “I feel good, too.”

I force a smile. “Great. I’ll walk you out.”

Chapter 17

Talia

Saturday evening, I smooth my hands down the front of my blouse, checking that it’s tucked seamlessly into my pencil skirt, then resume pacing the same five feet of carpet before the desk in Charlie’s office at Crossroads. I’m anxious about tonight, but at least I’m not spiraling anymore. I’m focused. Ready.

I owe my sanity to Leo, who reminded me Thursday morning of the Stop Sign Method. I’ve spent the bulk of the last three days practicing the simple but effective exercise. When thoughts of Kieran intruded, I visualized a stop sign. The first day was the hardest, the red octagon virtually living in my head. By this morning, though, I felt back in control.

“Nervous?”

Charlie’s dark eyes track me from the red velvet couch where she sits nibbling on strawberries, looking like Aphrodite in a white dress, her dark hair loose around her tanned shoulders.

“A little,” I admit.

“Why are you wound so tight? You’ve done this a hundred times.”

I glance at her. “Not helping.”

Her smile is vulpine. “If you wanted your ego or clit stroked, you should have gone to Nate’s office.”

I grimace. “Really not helping.”

“Talia.” She waits until I stop and look at her. “When was the last time you were properly fucked?”

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