Page 35 of Choosing Hope
Later that afternoon, once I’d made sure she had everything she needed. I made a lame excuse about work and left Sophie in the apartment, explaining I might not return that night.
I didn’t tell Carlo straightaway. I needed time, time to sort through the mess in my head. Normally, we speak every day. Sometimes more than once. That silence alone should’ve told him something was wrong.
When I finally told him, it shattered him. Shattered us.
Sophie’s spent the last three years apologizing, which only makes me feel like more of a twat. And maybe I am.
Because the problem wasn’t really what she said—though yeah, that fucking hurt. The problem was what it triggered.
Her words lit the match, but I struck the fuse. I ended things with Carlo—not because she asked me to, but because I couldn’t live with the shame I still carried about my sexuality. I couldn’t look at myself. I couldn’t bear the mirror or the intensity of emotions he evoked in me.
Sophie’s told me again and again that she never meant it. That she loved what we had, the three of us, and never wanted my physical relationship with Carlo to stop. But things have changed. I changed.
I still see him often. But I keep my distance from him physically now whenever I’m able. The problem is nothing’s ever come close to the high I felt with him and Sophie. That life was addictive. It still haunts me.
After Sophie’s outburst, I stepped away from the club scene—temporarily. But with Sophie’s permission about a year later, I went back.
She isn’t aware that I invested in a club with Travis. Or that there’s a girl there who lets me dominate her. I don’t fuck her often—it’s not about that. It’s about control. About pushing limits. She lights something up inside me. It’s not the same as the feeling I get from Carlo...but it’s the closest I’ve come.
So when I experience the pull toward Carlo—when I miss him so badly it makes me ache—I see Kalie instead.
And for a little while . . . the noise fades.
Dr. Klein is quiet. She doesn’t reach for her pen. She just watches me.
Then, softly she asks, “Is that what you want, Spencer? To make the noise fade...or to feel again?”
That question hits harder than I expected. I shift in my chair, uncertain what to do with my hands. My eyes sting, but I force a swallow.
“Both,” I admit, barely above a whisper. “I want to stop hurting. But I also want back what we had...or at least, what mattered in it.”
She nods slowly, as if she’s been waiting for me to say that.
“You’ve described Sophie as your anchor. The one person who sees all your sharp edges and stays anyway. And yet, so much of your energy goes toward escaping—not just the shame, but the vulnerability of being fully known.”
She leans forward a little, voice still calm.
“Have you let Sophie see the parts of you that you’ve brought here?”
I shake my head. The answer is obvious.
“Then maybe it’s not about earning forgiveness or recreating what was. Maybe it’s about letting her see you now—really see you—and trusting she still might choose you.”
I nod slowly because that’s what terrifies me most.
Dr. Klein glances at the clock, then offers me a softer smile.
“We’re almost out of time. But I’d like you to think about one thing between now and next week.”
She pauses, letting the words settle before continuing.
“You’ve carried a lot of guilt. And shame. But love...real love, has room for both truth and imperfection. It’s not clean or easy. It just asks that you keep choosing it.”
I’m quiet. She doesn’t press.
“When you get home, don’t fix anything. Don’t make promises. Just...tell Sophie the truth. Tell her you still love her. And then let her decide how to stand with you.”
Chapter Eight
