Page 37 of It's Always Been You
Brandon sat forward fluidly—as if I’d summoned a vampire back from the dead.
I rolled my eyes. Dr. Wright had officially entered the chat. “I’m not suicidal, Brandon,” I clarified.
His head tilted innocently. “Why would you assume that’s what I was thinking?”
I scoffed. “Oh, come on. We both know that’s where your mind went, considering my past.”
His eyes softened with sympathy, and he apologized. But for what, I don’t know.
Because I could tell he was still worried, I clarified that I have never had suicidal thoughts, nor have I ever tried to kill myself. Dad never believed me about that, though—especially after he and Francine found out I was self-harming.
Brandon was quiet for a moment, studying me. Just when the silence was becoming unbearable, and I was about to break it with more of my mindless rambling, he confided that I’m the reason he decided to pursue psychiatry.
Shocked, I just stared at him.
The corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. He explained that he was in his third year of med school, unsure of what he wanted to specialize in, when I ended up in that children’s psychiatric hospital. Apparently, his dad always thought he’d follow in his footsteps as a surgeon. But he said the more he thought about it, the more he realized that every meaningful interaction he’d ever had during his clinicals had something to do with mental health. Not to mention Brandon just loves people, and he said he really enjoyed his peds rotation in school, which was no surprise to me. He’s always been amazing with kids. And after he spoke to my psychiatrist, he said he knew he wanted to work with “kids like me.”
When I asked him to clarify, he gave me an apologetic look. “Kids who’ve been dealt a bad hand,” he said. “Kids who don’t know how to regulate their emotions.”
I’m cringing just thinking about it. Because the truth is, I still don’t know how to regulate my emotions. I’m prone to angry outbursts and impulsive behavior. I’m occasionally tempted to self-harm. Sometimes I still do.
But I didn’t dare tell Brandon that.
“You were so angry,” he went on, his eyes drifting back to Teddy. “With the doctors, your parents, Jamie, Dana, me. God.” He paused introspectively, stroking Teddy’s hair. “You wouldn’t even look at me or Dana when we came to visit you. And that was shocking, because you had always . . .” He gave me a rueful, cheeky smile. “Well, let’s just say I’ve always known I’m one ofyour favorite people.”
He was right. He still is. He will always be one of my favorite people.
Then he confided that he was desperate to see me smile again, to hear my carefree laugh and be that “outgoing little kid I used to be.” He said he missed her. It felt like a stake to the heart when he said that—because I miss that version of me, too. He said I always used to be so happy . . . but when he and Dana brought me Frederick the Bear and that journal, hoping a gift might cheer me up, I chucked them back in their faces and cursed them out.
We both laughed at the memory, and I teased that Frederick the Bear still sleeps with me. Brandon chuckled as though he didn’t believe me, but it’s the embarrassing truth. I might have thought I was too old for stuffed animals back then, but Frederick was a huge comfort to me—especially at night, when I felt so alone. He still sleeps right beside me each night. Not to mention I still journal almost every single day. That diary they brought me is what inspired my love for writing.
Hesitantly, I scooched closer to him. I was afraid he might reject my advance, but he lifted his arm and pulled me into his side without hesitation. Laying my head on his shoulder, we gazed at Teddy sleeping soundly in his arms, his chubby cheek squished against Brandon’s sternum, their chests gently rising and falling in tandem.
Brandon rested his chin on the top of my head. “My purpose from that point forward was pretty obvious. I wanted to help kids get to be . . . kids. And I wanted to help parents understand how things like a divorce can have a profound impact on their children’s hearts and minds.” He tapped my temple affectionately. “But mostly, I wanted to help kids process their emotions and, maybe—just maybe—give them a small piece of their childhood back.”
A warm feeling split my black heart wide open. The lava oozed out of my big, stupid mouth. “I love you.”
His chest vibrated with laughter, and then he said it back. And so easily.
We soaked in the moment, the declarations. I love him. He loves me.
I didn’t think it was possible to love Brandon more than I already do, but at that moment, I did. I had always loved him, but at that moment, I fell in love with him. Head over heels. I would never love another man like I loved him.
For me, it will always be him.
Chapter 13
Evie
“Hey!Slowdownthere,Speedy Gonzalez,” Adam hollers, drawing more unwanted attention to me as he hustles across the restaurant.
I laugh at his lame joke, allowing him to grab the door for me so I can hobble the rest of the way into the dimly lit pizza parlor. The mouthwatering smell of greasy sausage and melted cheese envelopes me like a warm hug as I step inside, and I sigh longingly, eager to gorge myself after the busy morning I’ve had. I overslept my alarm, so I didn’t have time to eat a proper breakfast.
“Want me to get the waiter to move us closer to the front?” Adam asks, eyeing the walking stick clenched tightly in my hand. I shake my head, but he’s already flagging down a waiter and pointing out my predicament.
Feeling self-conscious, I keep my eyes trained on the floor as a little boy at a nearby table whispers to his mother that I’m acting like an old person.
I am going to personally apologize to every client that I have ever pressured to use a cane, walker, or some other kind of walking device. Obviously, I never had any ill intent. I only wanted to encourage my clients to adopt the tools that would help them prevent unnecessary falls. Of course, I know using a walking device can be embarrassing for some people, but when you’re in your twenties, it’s hard to understand why. Rationally, I get it—a cane might represent one’s declining mobility, and perhaps they fear a gradual but seemingly inevitable loss of independence. Still, when you’re only twenty-six, it’s hard to fathom someone’s reluctance to adopt a simple tool.
