Page 72 of Wicked Promises

She doesn’t ask. She instead stands, crossing to her desk. “Have you talked to your foster parents about how you feel?”

I frown. “No. There’s been a lot going on.”

“Understandable.” She comes back with a composition notebook in her hand. She extends it toward me, and I reluctantly take it. “Maybe you feel like people don’t listen.”

“It isn’t that theydon’tlisten, it’s that theywon’t.”

“Can you try something for me?”

I lean back, setting the notebook beside me and folding my arms over my chest.

“Hear me out,” she says, smiling. “I’ve found it’s easier to be heard when the words can’t be ignored. When it’s in black and white in front of them.”

“You want me to write down my feelings.”I should’ve known.

“Maybe put it in a letter,” she suggests.

“To who?”

Mom? Lenora and Robert? Dad?

“Whoever you want.”

I chew on that request for a moment. Bounce it around. Are there people who I could write a letter to, get the emotions off my chest, and move on from it? Sure.

But right now, that’s at the bottom of my list of priorities.

“It was scary,” I finally say. “Knowing someone had taken me away from Robert. The second before they knocked me out, they kept apologizing. Even when I was in the barn, and they were arguing…”

I press my lips together.

“How are you sleeping?” she asks.

“I’m… barely.” Every night is a struggle, although I haven’t told another soul that. I’ve scarcely admitted it to myself—that my sleep troubles might be a result of being taken. And the accident.

It doesn’t help that every time I close my eyes, I feel Robert’s arm across my chest, protecting me as we careened toward the ditch.

“I told my boyfriend I love him,” I blurt out. “Because I definitely do. But he didn’t say it back. I know he does, but I was really hoping to hear him say the words.”

She takes the subject change in stride. “First love?”

“Only love,” I say firmly.

She smiles. “When you know, you know. And maybe, since he didn’t just automatically say it back to you, it’ll be more special when he does.”

I hum. “That… makes me feel better, actually.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

I raise my eyebrow. “Pep talks?”

Her smile turns into a grin. “Perspective.”

“Ah.”

She glances at her watch. “And now, unfortunately, our time is up. Try writing in the journal. Bring it back with you on Friday.”

My cheeks heat up. “Am I going to be reading it out loud?”