Page 16 of Under Pink Skies

I shrugged and pressed my arms tighter against my chest.

“I can’t get involved with this festival on an emotional level. I finally feel like I’m headed in a good direction. I’ve got a good job doing work that matters. Kameron and Lucas are counting on me. Getting this close to Watford, and to Abbie . . .” I swallowed hard, avoiding eye contact with the webcam as I looked toward the ceiling.

“It’s threatening to unravel so much of the work I’ve done,” I said. “It feels like a cruel, cosmic joke that I finally put my uncle’s money to good use—the money I didn’t even want in the first place—and instead of keeping me away from Watford, it’s dragging me back there.”

Anna considered this for a moment. “Do you think it’s possible to view this from a different perspective?”

I gave her a wary glance, finally meeting her eyes.

“In what way?”

“How would it feel to view this from the perspective of gaining closure, and making amends, rather than something that’s being forced upon you?”

“I left the girl I loved because I couldn’t face my crap,” I muttered. “There is no atoning for that. She’s spent the last five years wondering what the hell happened.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“What?” I said, rubbing my temples. I knew today’s session was going to be grueling, but I didn’t expect it to hit me this hard.

“You seem confident about her feelings,” Anna said. “Did she tell you she felt that way, or are you assuming it?”

I paused. She had me there.

“I used to know her better than I knew myself. If she’d left me in the same manner, I . . . I don’t know that I’d be here today. How screwed up is that?”

Anna shrugged her shoulders, her kind eyes meeting mine. “It’s not screwed up. It’s life. You were eighteen when you left Watford?”

I nodded my head.

“Despite what most eighteen-year-olds like to think, eighteen is still young. You were a teenager. Watford was a place where you had to endure horrible things, leaving you with terrible memories and feelings. You signed a contract with the Marine Corps because you wanted to do something good in your life, and for the first time, you had a way to escape your abuser. Your actions are not unreasonable.”

“It doesn’t make it okay.”

“I didn’t say it made it okay,” Anna said, leaning forward and placing her notebook on the table beside her. “I said it’s not unreasonable for your brain to have been so panicked and desperate to get away that you made a decision you now regret as an adult with actual life experience. You have more perspective now, an understanding of why what you did wasn’t acceptable.”

I considered this for a moment.

“You’re saying it’s possible for her to forgive me?”

Anna gave me a small smile and shook her head.

“I’m saying it’s possible for you to forgive yourself, Connor.”

That last statement from Anna had burrowed under my skin. I merely went through the motions the rest of the day, sending a few logistical emails and following up with vendors we had contracts with for the barn renovations. By the end of the morning, I’d been staring at a screen for over four hours straight, and I was itching it to get my hands dirty. I closed my laptop and grabbed an apple from the kitchen before climbing the stairs to the “communal chill out” loft space and flopping down on the couch across from Kameron’s desk.

“Put me in, coach.”

“Hm?” Kameron said, not breaking eye contact with his screen.

“I’ve been staring at my email inbox all morning. The blue light is melting my eyeballs. I need to do something else with my day,” I said.

Kameron swiveled toward me, taking a slurp of what looked to be a green protein smoothie. I grimaced.

“Whatisthat?”

“Fruit smoothie.”

“Yuck.”

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