Michael looks pointedly at the fists I wasn’t even aware of clenching. Slowly, I force my hands to relax, my fingers to uncurl.
“The past is the past,” I tell him when I’ve finally got my body back under control. “Dwelling on it isn’t going to help me move forward.”
“In normal circumstances, that’s absolutely true. But there’s nothing normal about what you’ve been through. Especially since the past is having such a profound impact on your present.”
“The nightmares aren’t as bad.”
“I’m glad to hear it. But I’m not talking about the nightmares.”
I fight the urge to shove him out the door. All he’s doing is talking in riddles and after two sleepless nights, I have no patience for it.
He must see it in my eyes—how close I am to done—because he abruptly gets to the point. “Are you afraid that being abducted and tortured makes you less worthy of wearing the crown?”
It’s a quiet question, unassuming, but it feels like an attack. Suddenly the riddles don’t seem so bad.
“Garrett?” he prompts when I don’t answer.
“My father thinks it makes me less worthy.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Maybe not, but it’s still the reality.”
“But is it your reality?”
“My reality doesn’t matter.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Right now, your reality is the only one that matters.”
“I owe it to my people to do what’s best for them.”
“Even if what’s best is stepping aside?”
“It’s not.”
“You owe it to yourself to do what’s best for you.”
“No.” My rejection is instantaneous, absolute. “That’s not how it works.”
“Why? Because you owe it to Wildemar?”
“You make it sound like being king is a game. It’s not. I owe the people of Wildemar…”
“What do you owe them? Your blood? You gave it to them. Your life? You almost gave that, too.”
“My life comes with a lot of privileges. But it comes with a lot of responsibilities, too.”
“Of course it does. But it’s been less than a year since you were abducted, beaten, tortured, and starved. Less than a year since you saw your security
detail—who also happened to be your friends—murdered in front of you. Less than a year since you sustained injuries that took months to heal and that changed your life forever.”
His tone is matter-of-fact and I appreciate it. I’m so fucking sick of the cloying sympathy, so fucking sick of being poor Garrett. I just want to be me again, just want to have a conversation where the person I’m talking to isn’t thinking about what happened to me, isn’t feeling sorry for me.
Maybe that’s why Lola intrigued me so much. Even after it became obvious that she knew who I was, she didn’t give me sympathy and she didn’t act like I was a head case. I appreciate that more than I can say.
“I know you want to go back to being the old you,” Michael continues. “But I’d be remiss as your therapist if I let you believe that there’s even a chance that that’s going to happen. What you went through changed you in deep and lasting ways, and you’ll never be the man you were before the abduction.”
Helplessness explodes deep inside me at his words, along with a panic that enrages me even as it terrifies me. “What the hell does that even mean? It’s your job to fucking fix me—”