Page 101 of Home Safe

The spiral from last night creeps its way back into the thought factory, increasing the burning sensation in my eyes.

Why does Griffin the man have to be tied up in the Wizard of Defense player?

The sound of the alarm is becoming more impatient, and I know it’s time to be a responsible adult. Blinking to dismiss the tears still fighting to squeeze out, I run my hand up Griffin’s neck, up the fade of his haircut, massaging my fingers into the length of his hair, attempting to wake him softly.

His mouth claps shut as he jerks slightly. His hands at my waist and my knee tighten, either reflexively or possessively. Maybe both. I need to pry myself away from all these points of physical contact before the tears defeat my determination to hold it together.

“Morning,” I whisper, attempting to sit up. Griffin’s eyes flutter open, and he promptly traps me with his arms, pulling me back to his chest.

One lone tear finds its way to victory, leaving a temporary blemish on Griffin’s shirt.

“Where are you going?” he asks, and his husky morning voice nearly does me in altogether.

“Work. School. Flight for you,” I reply quietly. The word “flight” is apparently the right button to push because he jerks fully awake. I untangle my limbs from his as he sits upright and stretches his neck.

“Shoot, what time is it?” he asks, checking his watch.

“I’m hoping it’s still close to six o’clock and that my alarm hasn’t been going off for an hour,” I say, standing to retrieve my phone.

Griffin lightly slaps a hand on his face, waking himself up. “Okay, I’m okay. I can make it home and get ready quickly and still get to the airport on time. Mostly on time,” he says, standing. I swipe the alarm off, and Griffin’s arms appear around my waist. His beard tickles as he presses his face into the curve of my neck. Before I can stop myself, my hand reaches up to rest behind his neck, fingertips tracing the fade on his scalp.

“As much as I want to kiss you, I should probably confess now that I have the worst morning breath known to mankind. Probably because I’m a mouth breather,” he says. I huff a laugh, and he pivots me to face him. He holds one hand in front of his mouth, which only makes me fully laugh. I see the smile lines around his eyes as he says, “I’m going to miss you these next few days. But then we have back-to-back series at home, so I’ll be here for a solid week before we travel again.”

It’s dark, so I know he doesn’t see the conflict in my eyes before he wraps me up in a goodbye hug.

“Call me if you have trouble with Jason and need someone to talk to,” he murmurs. “I’ll . . . I’ll try to answer. I’ll keep my phone nearby as much as I can.”

Nodding against his chest, my arms instinctively clutch tighter around his waist.

“Tell Jason bye for me. I love you, Danae,” Griffin says.

A few decibels above inaudible, I whisper, “Love you.”

“So, that’s why I’m here,” I conclude, looking intently at Monica. She’s the first therapist recommended to me who had immediate availability. Kara is keeping Jason for an hour after school so that I could be here for our intake meeting.

Monica sits back in her chair, processing everything that I’ve said.

Dumped. Unloaded. Poured out with wild abandon.

I surprised myself with the instant and thorough word vomit that came out of my mouth, but I suppose that’s what happens when the thought factory has been churning overtime with frenzied zeal. When I’m pressed for time and answers.

Monica now knows at least the bare bones about my childhood with my parents, my situation with Jason, my relationship with Griffin, and my terrifying anxiety regarding how all of the above fit together.

“There’s a lot to sift through here,” Monica begins, and I nod vigorously. I want to make sure she knows that I am in agreement, that she is on the right track, thatthis is a lot.

“We’re going to put a pin in the history and current state of your relationship with your parents. Not because it’s not important—it absolutely is. And those memories are shading your current relationships with other people,” Monica says. More nodding from me. “And I think it’s going to be important for us to really dig in to what’s behind your general anxiety. But for today, let’s talk a little bit more specifically about your anxiety regarding Jason’s behavior and your relationship with Griffin. Because those seem to be the most urgent on your mind right now.”

I think my head might be in a permanent state of nodding.

Monica gives a small smile. “Here’s my first question for you.Whydo you feel so anxious about not knowing how to help Jason when he gets into those dysregulated states?”

My brow furrows. “Why wouldn’t I be anxious about that? Shouldn’t every parent be worried in a situation like that?”

“Yes, of course,” Monica says in a calm voice. “I’m not suggesting it’s an irregular reaction. I’m curious to know what thoughts are below the surface of your particular anxiety in those situations.”

Blowing out a breath, I’m instantly engaging in every fidgeting habit I’ve ever tried to break. Aggressively picking at nail polish withboththumbs? Check. Aggressively chewing my lip? Check. Aggressively bouncing my foot? Check.

“You know you can be honest about your thoughts, and I’m not going to judge you,” Monica prompts. She preemptively hands me a tissue box.

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