Page 59 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

Something had changed since my birthday, and the tea leaves lacked clear instructions on handling the situation.

I’d almost expected Victor to completely withdraw from me. Especially when he’d asked me for more time after our kiss in the kitchen. Whatever he had going on, he clearly needed the time. He was almost permanently out of the house. But when he was here, he kept telling me that he didn’t want to leave, that he’d rather stay with me, that he was just a phone call away.

He never told me where he was going or what he was doing, and I never asked.

I never asked for the true story behind that phone call in the winter garden either.

I hated this. I hated not being able to confront myself with a simple conversation, a simple truth.

More than I hated being a coward, however, I hated that nobody understood that I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t justswitch it off.I couldn’t justget over myselforwork through it. If I even thought of leaving my comfort zone, my chest seized and my lungs constricted and I wouldn’t even have the air to speak.

People barely understood that I couldn’t leave my house, but at least they were able to comprehend that something bad had happened to me outside. The mental comfort zone was much harder to convey than the physical one.

I glanced at the little red dot next to an email folder dedicated to Silas Whitaker.

The very reminder that I was avoiding the video he’d sent yesterday. I had forwarded the campaign videos to Amani without even looking at them. This one? The big one? I’d have to personally review it.

Detangling my hands from my hair, where they’d been nesting, I grabbed the small camera Silas had left behind for me.It took me a few minutes to figure out. Once I did, I took it to the winter garden and set it up on the table, so I could film myself sitting on the floor between my plants.

“My therapist used to tell me that my brain was neurologically altered by trauma. There is no way to reverse that. That means I will spend the rest of my life in a world that was designed by and for people whose brains work differently than mine. And it’s really exhausting. I…” I blinked at the gleaming black lens. “I’m not-” I shook my head and grabbed the camera to switch it off.

I wasn’t sure what I’d even meant to do.

There were plenty of mental health advocates out there who were educating people on PTSD.

Maybe we should just invite some of them to our social media channels.

I could talk to Amani about that.

Fitzwilliam traipsed into the winter garden and wove his body through the legs of the table. He blinked at me through tired eyes and let out a tiny meow.

“Hi,” I whispered and booped his little nose.

He meowed again.

“I know,” I sighed, “we can’t all be brave like you.”

He climbed into my lap and rubbed his head against the flower-shaped buttons on my cardigan. Del had warned me that her cat was possessed, and I’d seen both her and Victor spot some scratches, but I had yet to meet Fitzi’s demons.

“I think they’re lying,” I told him while I rubbed his big, soft belly, “you’re my little sugarplum.”

Del had goneinto deep research mode for her wedding. The kitchen table was completely covered in binders and magazines and various lists she’d printed off the internet.

I’d agreed to her backyard wedding.

She’d persuaded me with Pinterest boards and an endless string of texts, in which she’d pulled all sorts of statistics about the downsides of big weddings. Including the carbon footprint of the wedding industry. At that point, I couldn’t say no. I’d end up feeling more guilty about the environment than about Del potentially regretting a small guest list.

“No, I definitely prefer this. I don’t care if it looks a bit like a baby shower.” She tossed one magazine aside and gently patted a different one, which showed a wedding all in white, pale blue and pink.

“I think it’s cute. I like the bows on their dresses.” I pointed at the big fluffy bows on the bridesmaids’ sweetheart necklines.

“Oh, that would look cute on you. You can actually wear whatever you want. Have I told you yet?” Del flipped through her lists, brows furrowed. “I’m not doing bridesmaids. Not much of a point when it’s just eight guests. Brody will be our ring bearer because we want to include her, but that’s it.”

As always, Brody’s name punched me right in the gut, coating my tongue in acid. I was the reason they had to make her feel included. The reason her family had been reduced to-

“I need to talk to you.” Victor’s voice ripped me from the oncoming thought spiral.

He stopped at the table and his veined hands wrapped tight around the back of a chair. Those threatened to send me downa whole different thought spiral. Because I could still feel his fingers digging into my hips.

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