Page 52 of That Summer

Her heart started to ache. How was she was supposed to cut back on her time with Lucas?

“Why are you crying?”

She recoiled in her seat as she wiped her eyes before tears could slip out. “I haven’t started crying yet.”

“Yeah, but you’re about to. Why?”

Her vision blurred the harder she fought it. “I just have self-doubt.”

“We all have that.”

“Yeah. Well it occupies a lot of my thoughts. Whether or not I’m ever going to be good enough for Nate. Whether or not I’ll ever get my happy ending. Whether or not I’m ever going to be healed.” She folded her legs under her.

Chris leaned back on her chair. “We’re all trying to heal from something. It’s how you handle yourself on the journey that makes the difference.”

“Yeah, well my journey sucks.”

“Not really.”

Aurora rolled her eyes.

“No, think about it, and hear me out on this. Every moment that happens in our life affects the one after. If you wouldn’t have had your car accident, you could still be dating that Devon guy.”

“Derek.”

“Yes, sorry.” Chris waved her away. “Anyways, you could be engaged to him, right? You might still be living in Fort Mac, and the strong possibility exists that we would never have met. But… youdidhave an accident, broke up with Derek, ended up moving here and took a job at the library where you met Nate. So I’d say your journey, albeit not the one you planned, may have been the perfect one for you.”

She rested her chin on her knees. “So what now? How do I get through this?”

“I’d say you already are. You made the right decision to call me, and you resisted your urges. Sounds like you are doing okay.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” The desire to be held hadn’t gone away, and she let her hands rest on the table, hoping Chris would reach for them.

She didn’t make a move, in fact she pulled back a little more. “I know it doesn’t. And I know what you’re going through.”

“What? You had PTSD?” The thought of knowing she had it and made it through gave her hope.

“No, not PTSD. But I’ve suffered through depression and suicidal thoughts.” She pulled back on her sleeve and flipped her palm towards the ceiling.

A loud gasp echoed in the room.

“Yeah, mine were more than thoughts.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” She couldn’t focus on anything else but the scar. It was about one and a half to two inches long right across the wrist. Words escaped her. “When?”

“A few months after Dad died. It was really hard to watch him suffer so much, especially right at the end. I was finishing up my degree and everything was going south. Faster than I could control.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I understand the feelings you’re experiencing. Believe me. And I know you’ll get through them. I never called for help, but I’m thankful help found me in time.”

She swallowed, and asked in a quiet voice, “Can I ask who found you?”

Chris focused on her. “My baby brother.”

“I figured.”

Somewhere deep down, she had to have known it was him. To her at least, it explained why he was so compassionate and empathetic.