Page 62 of Sharing Shadow Secrets
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What the fuck does he want to talk about? He’s taking a mental health day and wants to talk to me … Did he relapse? If we were together, what would I even do if that happened? We should talk about that too.
Shutting my laptop, my mind is racing with things I want to discuss with him, so I open my notebook and start jotting them down:
Relapse - Who are your doctors? What are signs I should be looking out for? Have you ever? Outside of alcohol, what else did you used to do? Do you have any permanent health damage?
Relationship - Have you hooked up with anyone since we met? I know I don’t have any right to ask you not to hook up with people, but I want to know. Your ex and you had other people. Do you want monogamy? I want commitment.
The sound of my buzzer sends my heart rate up.What if Brandon doesn’t want this anymore?Stop spiraling. I buzz himin and then open the door, hearing him come up. I laugh seeing him with one huge take-out bag in each of his hands. I was half expecting to see him in sweatpants, but you would never know he didn’t go to the office today. He’s wearing golf shorts and a polo.
“Did you invite other people?” I joke.
“No … but do you ever feel like eating your feelings?”
“Yes.”
“I’m having one of those days.” He leans down and kisses my cheek. I smile up at him and take one of the bags, curious what’s going on with him. “How is your day going?”
“Fine until you called me,” I say, setting the to-go bag on the coffee table in our living room. “I’ve been an anxious mess wondering what this is about.”
“Sorry …” he trails off, setting the other bag down and then pulling out each container. “I thought burgers, fries, and a bunch of fried food would be good.”
“Cheat day?” I tease, and he shrugs, smiling. “Water?” He nods, and I go into the kitchen to fill two glasses. I grab my notebook before returning to the living room, putting it under my arm. “Tell me what you want to talk about because I can’t handle it.”
He grabs a fry and sits back onto the couch.
“Did you relapse?” I ask. It’s the question most top of mind.
“No,” he exhales, smiling softly.
I take a seat next to him on the couch, relaxing the smallest amount. “Did you hook up with someone?”
“No.”
“Do you not like me anymore?”
“Taylor,” he says, nearly a scold. “I like you, which is why I’m here.”
“Spill.”
He runs his hand through his brown hair. “I had an emergency session with my therapist today, and I’ve been meaning to tell you something, but it’s something not many people know and only really important people to me know.”
I take in all of his body language. “Okay?”
“I hate saying the word.” He loudly exhales, and I grab for his hand, interlacing my fingers with his. I feel like he needs reassurance, comfort. His eyes flick down, staring at our hands. He squeezes my hand, and says, “When I was fourteen … I was molested.”
Shit.That’s terrible.
Hearing that, I release his hand, leaning into him, hugging him deep. Brandon wraps his arms around me, resting his head on top of mine. “It took me a long time to understand that’s what happened, and I’m continuing to process all of the ways I’ve responded … and still respond to that trauma.”
