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"Of course, my sweet. Of course." She brought my hand to her lips. "Alone or with Caroline and Nora?"

"Alone. But I want you to...like Caroline did," was all I could manage.

Sam stroked my chin, giving it a gentle squeeze when I met her gaze. "I'm all in, my sweet. I just want to be with you, too."

Her words brought a smile to my face. Only the buzz of my phone interrupted it and I whipped it out to check the text from Rebecca.

Sam drove us the rest of the way to Anita's and parked in the lot out front. "Is that Rebecca?"

"Yeah. She's checking in."

"Any word on your mother's parole?"

"Not yet. Soon though." I tucked my phone back in the pocket of my jacket.

We sat in silence for an unusual moment before she broke it. "Ready?"

I nodded and we headed inside together.

Anita and I spent the first twenty minutes of session rehashing the events of the parole hearing. As always, she validated my feelings and reactions, but the real work began when we talked about what happened at Rebecca's. It was more difficult to talk about because those moments made me feel sicker and weaker than anything else.

"Rosie, remember when we did your early warning signs when anxiety is getting too much to handle?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"What were some of your warning signs?" she asked, her hands folding in her lap.

"Um… Not eating much or going out at all. Staying at home all the time reading or at Rebecca's. Avoiding my friends. Panic attacks. Losing time. Being forgetful. Not sleeping. Smoking a lot." I shrugged. "Things like that."

"Are any of those happening?" she asked, though the way her lip twitched, I knew she already had the answer.

"Losing time. Smoking a little," I said, slouching in my chair. "You want me back on medicine."

"Do you think you need to go back on medicine?" she asked, leaning forward slightly so that she could catch my eye.

I hesitated, glancing over her shoulder then back to her before nodding. "Yeah. At least some."

"Have you taken any over the past few days?"

"No. I left them at home because I haven't needed anything. It's just, the parole hearing was a lot. I guess it made me have nightmares and things," I said, toying with the sequins on the pillow in my lap. "I feel like I'm locked in the basement sometimes with only a little light. With a hungry belly."

"Are you hungry, Rosie?" Anita's brow furrowed, and I shook my head.

"No. But I remember what it feels like to have that hollow sensation. I felt that way when I saw her in that room. She's just as selfish and doesn't really care. It's like she gutted me when I was little." I took a swipe at the tears that dampened my cheeks. "And I was fine until I saw her again."

Anita sat quietly, listening to me and allowing me time as she always did. I gulped down the lump in my throat and continued.

"Rebecca's really my mother. Maybe one day I'll call her that." I let out a sigh as I dropped my head on the sofa. "I feel like I'm twelve or something."

"Stress like this can cause those regressed feelings. Emotionally, you might feel twelve because of the memories that seeing your biological mother brought up." She paused for a moment. "Go back to Rebecca. Tell me about that."

"We talked about it." I smiled when I remembered our conversation. "She makes me feel loved." I cleared my throat and sat up a little straighter. "Jason and Steve do, too. And now Sam."

"Tell me about Sam." Anita smiled as if her expression mirrored mine. "How are things going?"

"Really good. I told her I love her and she accepted it. She hasn't said it back yet, but I know she wants to. She's scared," I told her, and a sudden warmth rushed away the chilliness in my body. It filled me in the same way that thinking of Sam made my blood pump harder.

"I imagine so. From what you've told me, she's been through a lot as well."