Page 148 of Savior

When I turn back around and let my back rest against it, Sloane steps into me, hugging around my middle and laying her head on my chest. “Thank you,” she says.

“Anything for you, little dove. Anything.”

She steps on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek, lingering momentarily. I don’t give it much thought or let it go any further. Since I got her back, she’s been a broken shell, and it’s going to take time for her to heal.

But I’ll be beside her once the process ends and hold her hand throughout.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

SLOANE

ONE MONTH LATER

The thing about healing is that you don’t know when it’s happening—not until you feel the effects viscerally and realize the world looks less dim and feels less burdened. That’s how I feel today. I didn’t realize until after therapy with Dr. Spooner. I was wandering through the flower market on Lexington Ave., breathing in the exotic and beautiful floral perfumes. I stopped, looked around, and realized my chest was less tight than usual, and the world felt vibrant.

Holding my purchase from the market—a bouquet that the florist calledWinter Dreams—I meander back to our apartment Luca secured. We live in Washington Square Village, well-known for housing NYU faculty and easy commuting to and from work. The apartment is beautiful. When Luca said he got a job at the local college, I’d been too fucked up and fresh from all I’d gone through to question it. All I knew was he started going to work regularly, and his mom—Miriam—would show up soon after.

She’s taught me to cook, what the best television shows in the afternoon are, and how to center myself and not let the dark thoughts win.

For weeks, I’d drilled down into myself, regretting having been born into a world where so many hateful things happened to me. I have a man who loves me so much that he threw everything away for me and a mother I thought I’d never have.

Thinking back to coming home and finding Mom on the couch with needles hanging out of her veins and rushing to her side to make sure she wasn’t dead. I know that’s not my life anymore. It’s freeing.

I pass the doorman, leaving one of the purple flowers from my bouquet on his desk for him.

I peek over my shoulder to watch him lift it to his nose to sniff.

This inner peace I’ve found is something I’ll cling to for the rest of my days.

I know I still have a long road ahead of me, but the breakthroughs I made at therapy today have made me feel lighter and more optimistic about the future than ever.

Miriam was true to her word and got me into therapy with someone she’d been going to since Luca’s father died. As therapy usually does, we started initially and worked on present-day issues. She’s given me coping mechanisms for the panic attacks and made me realize how much control I have over the monsters that try to invade my memories and thoughts.

Brain training, she calls it.

Pressing the button for the tenth floor, I settle into the elevator wall and clutch my flowers. I never thought I’d live somewhere so pretty and on this side of town, but here I am.

I still feel guilty about Luca’s decision to leave the church, but Dr. Spooner helped me realize it was his decision, not mine.While I have sway over Luca, I can’t control his every move, and I wouldn’t want him to control mine.

She also helped me realize that our age gap—while unorthodox—isn’t taboo. I’ve never had reservations about the gap in our ages, but my newfound anxiety made me wonder if I should have them.

I exit the elevator when the doors slide open, turning to the right to head to the apartment, stopping short when I spy Myra on my doorstep. She’s rocking on her feet, her blonde hair pristine in a ballerina bun, and her knuckles rapping away at the door.

“Myra?” I say, stepping towards her tentatively.

There’s been so much going on with me I haven’t even thought of her, if I’m honest—too much to riddle out in my world. Guilt buzzes like bees in my stomach at the revelation.

“God, Sloane. I heard you were living here. I thought it was ridiculous, but… There you are…” Her eyes show some emotion, but it’s not sadness or relief. It’s something I can’t quite put my finger on as she rushes me into a tight hug, squeezing mywinter dreamsbetween us.

“Who told you I was here?” I ask her.

I can’t help but have a hint of skepticism because, to my knowledge, no one besides Luca, his family, and Ardesia Ricci know where I am.

“Stacy. She goes to NYU, you know? She said she saw you walk out of the building one day, hand in hand with a professor. She followed you here.”

Stacy is more Myra’s friend than mine. She’s a loud-mouthed gossip. However, her demeanor might’ve brought my best friend and me back together, so I stowed the thought and kept my lips sealed.

“I’ve been so worried about you. I reported you missing, you know?”

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