Page 186 of Change

I frowned at him, pulling my hands from Julian and pressing them into my sides. “I know.”

“Bianca!” My adoptive mother was late to the party, and had jumped to her feet, crossing the room within a few long strides as she faced me. “You’re clearly not thinking right.” Was her first real statement to me since this entire ordeal had begun weeks ago. She grabbed my arm, nails digging slightly into my skin. “We’ll take care of it. You should be resting.”

“I’mdoneresting.” I stepped back from her, but not out of her grip as I truly studied the slightly taller woman for the first time in my life. I’d always thought she was elegant, stand-offish and scary, but now she was none of that.

Even with her expert application, she was not entirely able to hide the lines around her eyes, and her concealer barely covered the dark shadows there. But it was her eyes themselves which stood out the most.

I’d avoided looking into her face for most of our relationship. But I could see it now. Stress and worry shone in her expression, and her shoulders were rigid with tension and fear. And now that I knew how to recognize it, there was the unmistakable hum of chaotic energy radiating between us.

She seemed one breath away from an anxiety attack. How long had it been this way?

“It’s okay.” Even though it felt awkward, I pet her hand, trying to reassure her. Her posture relaxed and her grip loosened as she stared at me, jaw turning lax. “I’m really fine now. You don’t have to worry.” Her light gaze still held mine, unsure, and I added, “Thank you.”

There was so much packed into that statement. Yes, she hadn’t been the greatest mother, but she was as messed up—if probably not more—than me. She’d really done the best she could. They both had.

And it wasn’t like I made it easy for them.

I’d been too scared of being rejected—of being forced to return—that I never once told them the truth. I had refused to cooperate from the beginning.

But I really was appreciative.

She let go of me then, stepping back until she bumped into my adoptive father, who’d come to stand behind her. He placed his hand on her shoulder, but he was watching me in surprise.

“You don’tjustsound like her.” Her hands shook as she covered her mouth. “Youactlike her too.”

Sound like her…

My ears rang as the vague recollection of our first meeting replayed in my head. That’d been one of the first things she said about me—along with that fact that she couldn’t stand the sound of my voice.

It hurt then, but now I understood.

She was—and is—still grieving my biological mother. Her best friend.

Being around me had continuously rubbed at that wound. It wasn’t my fault, of course, and I didn’t feel sorry about it. But webothneeded to move on.

“Hey.” I rubbed my arm. I couldn’t avoidhimforever either. But this entire experience was kind of horrifying—I’d never tried to bargain with her before. “I’ll cooperate, but only if you talk to someone too.”

It had been something she’d been on my case about, especially over the last year. I hadn’t ‘recovered’ enough for her standards and tried to get me to move from Dr. Reed—or Kohler—to Dr. Nam. I really needed someone who had ‘trauma expertise’, she’d argued.

Her mouth fell open as she stared at me, and the tense atmosphere in the room seemed to grow thicker. “You wantmeto talk to a therapist?” She sounded highly insulted at the idea.

Father was watching her cautiously now, and I realized that this was a fight I never knew existed between them.

“That’s the only way I’ll do it.” That wasn’t true anymore, but she didn’t have to know. But this was something that I knew she cared about deeply. “I’ll go see Dr. Nam—and participate.”

Even though I did think his rituals were a little bit strange.

She pursed her bright red lips, and her chin jutted forward. I was preparing myself for her inevitable refusal when, “Fine.”

“Fine?” Father pulled his hand from her and stepped back. “You’ll go?”

The woman who raised me ignored his reaction, not taking her eyes from mine. “Do youpromiseto go? I’m going to ask.”

I rolled my eyes. It was almost sad how little she trusted me, but I guess that was to be expected. “Yes, I promise to go see Dr. Nam, let him stare at me, drink his too-strong tea, and answer the random questions he asks. I will go—”

“Twice a week,” she interrupted.

Now that was just going too far. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, bargaining. “—oncea week. Just like you’ll talk to Dr. Kohler once a week too.”