When Stars Collide (Light in the Dark 2)

“I want us to explore our options,” he says.

“Okay,” I agree. “And then we’ll talk about it, together, right?”

He gives me a funny look. “Yeah, of course. I’m not going to buy us a place and not ask you first. It’s ours not mine.” He pinches my side slightly and jumps out of the way before I can swat him. “You better go.”

“Oh, right.”

After he brought up the relator I totally forgot that Cade had called for me.

When I get downstairs I find that my mom and he are already outside waiting in the Jeep.

I pet Prue on her head and she licks my leg before I dart out the door.

My mom’s sitting in the back, so I end up sitting in the front with Cade.

None of us speak on the way and the silence is deafening. In fact, I’m convinced that silence is the loudest sound in the world. An oxymoron, perhaps, but true.

Cade pulls into the lot of the building and I stare at the white stone building. It’s clean, modern, almost clinical. When you walk inside it feels like you’re about to be operated on, and maybe you are. It sure feels like they’re poking around in your head and pulling out the important bits and pieces, laying them out on a table and deciphering what the hidden parts of your mind mean.

Cade turns off the Jeep, lays his palms on his knees, and breathes out heavily.

None of us move.

None of us are ready.

But in order to heal, you have to make that step and do the hard thing, instead of letting the pain beat you.

I put my hand on the door handle and push it open. “Come on,” I say, coaxing them out of the car.

Cade follows first, then my mom.

We all say nothing as we head inside the building, check-in, and take our seats in the waiting area.

Little time passes before we’re being called back into Dr. Long’s office. He’s an older man, about fifty or sixty, with gray hair and a heavy beard. He’s kind and patient, though, and as far as therapists go, I don’t think he’s that bad.

Cade and I sit on the couch and my mom takes the chair.

Dr. Long sits in his chair, his legs crossed, and smiles kindly.

“I’m glad to see you all back today,” he says. “I know this is only your second visit together, but consistency is progress, and I think these meetings together, as well as your separate appointments, are key in healing.” He claps his hands together and appraises us. “What would you all like to talk about today?”

I bite my lip. So many thoughts are running through my mind because there’s an endless list of things we need to talk about.

Cade surprises me by speaking first. “Gabe. I want to talk about Gabe.”

My head swivels toward him, and like always, whenever I hear Gabe’s name a pang pierces my chest.

Cade swallows thickly and looks at me and then Dr. Long. “Thea blames herself, and I want her to know that it wasn’t her fault. It was no one’s fault. It was a freak accident.”

I exhale a shaky breath and my eyes dart to the ceiling. “Is that true, Thea? Do you think it’s your fault?”

I press my hands over my eyes. In the last month I’ve thought more about Gabe than I have in the eight years since he died. It’s too painful, and every time I think of him, it’s like someone’s stuck a knife in my chest and torn open the muscle and bone, splitting me in half.

“I know it’s my fault,” I mumble.

“Why is that?” Dr. Long asks. “Why do you know it’s your fault? Tell me what happened.”

I take a deep breath as flashes of that day flit through my mind.