Page 57

I took Maricel's advice very literally.

I worked hard to stay busy, whether it was working out or school.

I also tried to stay in public throughout the day, and had dinner with Sarai and Zion almost every night.

I was always in a library or a small cafe.

Sometimes I would even take walks downtown.

The only time I was forced to sit still was at night, and I always made sure to take my melatonin.

I was usually tired from my overall day in general, like waking up early, just to stay busy.

My eating habits got a little better too.

I've been trying to eat at least once a day, and I haven't been throwing it up.

The week flew by faster than I could process, but with how busy I was it felt like a fucking month rather than seven days.

Dr. Kincaid also arranged for everything regarding the retreat, so I assume Monroe knows I'm coming now.

She probably ended up canceling now that I'm going.

I honestly wanted to do a different retreat since I found a few others in the area, but Dr. Kincaid had already set these plans up for me, and I felt bad for canceling.

I just hope I can stay as busy as I am now, or else this isn't going to work.

Monroe has been more of an afterthought—I think of her during the fleeting seconds between tasks.

Nighttime is my only downfall, especially when I'm brushing my teeth or getting ready for bed.

We always used to do that together.

"Finally, we get to catch up," Maricel said as we got situated at the wooden table.

We've both been so busy that there hasn't been much time to hang out.

Maricel also had to travel to close an art deal, so we haven't seen each other since the night I showed up at that gallery showing.

We did get dinner that night, but it was at a nearby food truck, and we mostly discussed more ways to heal.

It was brief, given there wasn't somewhere to sit down and eat, but the tacos were really good, so it was a win-win to me.

Today, we decided on a cafe instead, which had a very homey vibe.

The chairs at each table were cushioned armchairs, all with different upholstery, which was very cozy to me.

It's also rainy out today, so a cafe is always nice on days like these.

I learned that rainy days and cafes really mix during this past week of running around.

I'm just trying not to be triggered by the mug that Maricel's cradling in her hands.

It was a latte with a few hearts drawn in the foam on top.

It somehow reminded me of that picture on her Instagram, thinking purely of Monroe.

Maricel's entire existence makes me think of her, but her advice has truly been helpful.

Dr. Kincaid even noticed this last week how energetic I am.

As usual, Monroe's office door has been closed the last two times I have been there, but I'm slowly getting used to it.

Even if I always glance down the hallway to check.

"So, how was Santa Monica?" I decided to ask, taking a brief sip of the blueberry tea I had gotten.

Somehow, coffee itself reminds me of Monroe, as she always drank it in the mornings.

I've been drinking tea ever since, specifically blueberry.

It's my new go-to whenever I'm at a cafe.

"Good, we closed the deal," Maricel smiled, setting her mug down. "How has your week been? Have you been staying busy?"

I nodded. "Yes, I've been focused more on school and working out—also, I go for random walks or have dinner with my friends," I said as I took another sip of my tea, smiling proudly to myself.

"I'm so proud, mija," Maricel said, her accent naturally slipping in.

Whenever she spoke Spanish, my mind would drift to Monroe yet again,wondering if Maricel spoke Spanish to her often.

Did Monroe like that?

Surely, it was attractive to her.

Maricel's accent is really beautiful.

"So... I might've slipped up," Maricel suddenly said, making something stall inside of me.

It was a physical weight that suddenly dropped on my shoulders, making my grip tighten around my warm mug.

"Slipped up?" I asked, trying my best not to let the tightness slip into my voice.

Her words somehow bothered me, especially if it's regarding the one woman we met through.

"I texted her," Maricel sighed deeply, shaking her head, "She didn't answer, but I know she saw it."

"What did you say?" I unconsciously asked, a little too quickly for my liking.

It made me clear my throat, trying to force myself to relax in my chair.

But suddenly my stomach feels hollow, and I could somehow throw up right now even if I haven't eaten anything today.

Aside from drinking this tea, but that doesn't count.

"I just sent her a picture, and said how much I missed her," Maricel briefly explained, making me nodstiffly.

I felt really fucking stiff all of sudden.

"Picture?" I asked, even if I knew I shouldn't push for more.

It's like I know the outcome, how much this will set me back, but I can't help but hurt myself.

Why am I like this?

"Liberty," she laughed, her glossy lips spreading into a smile as her dark eyes held mine, "You know what kind of picture I'm talking about."

I nodded again, but I couldn't form any words.

My throat felt too tight, and my stomach physicallyachedall of a sudden.

I hate even imagining the idea of Monroe laying eyes on Maricel's naked body.

Even if it was through the phone.

Fuck.

Okay-okay, it's fine.

It's over between us.

I existed before her, I can exist after.

I will exist after.

I am existing after.

I'm fine.

This is fine.

"I'm sorry she didn't answer," I tried my best to say, even if the words chipped away at something inside of me.

I couldn't even look at Maricel, awkwardly staring at my mug of tea.

This is so fucked.

"It's okay. I probably shouldn't be talking about your ex-therapist like this," Maricel joked, taking a small sip of her latte. "I know you say it isn't awkward, but it's probably really weird."

I nodded wordlessly, deeply clearing my throat.

I could feel myself retreating—almost like my social battery had been sucked dry from Maricel's slip up.

I wanted to go home and finish packing all of a sudden.

"I should probably go soon. I think the car is picking me up at three," I suddenly said, and it wasn't a lie.

I'm leaving for this retreat at three, but it's only ten now.

I just feel suffocated sitting here in front of Maricel.

"Of course, mija," Maricel said, setting her mug down, "I'm just glad we got to grab coffee."

I forced a smile, "Me too."

Even if it just ruined a significant amount of my progress.

Now all I can think about is Monroe and that picture.

She has women throwing themselves at her, desperate for even an ounce of her attention.

I used to be one of them, but now I can't let myself crave the feeling her attention brings.

It only leads to a more dangerous craving.

One that previously put my entire existence at risk.

That's how much power Monroe Leclair holds.

I tried my best to force small talk with Maricel, especially since it wasn't her fault for mentioning her slip-up with Monroe.

If anything, I'm in the wrong for seeking her out as a friend, knowing who I was involved with previously.

I knew what I was getting myself into with being her friend.

Otherwise, Maricel is genuinely kind and always checks in on me.

Even throughout this past week, she would text me to ask how I was.

After the whole slip-up topic, I just let her talk about herself since I wanted to be quieter and retreat into my mind.

Maricel enjoyed being able to discuss herself and how her past week was—I could tell it was relieving for her.

Meanwhile, I was counting the seconds until I could leave.

But time wasn't measured in seconds, and instead, how many sips of coffee she had left.

At some point, she remembered that I had to leave and prepare for this weekend retreat, so I was able to leave without being rude.

But it felt too late, a part of my sanity had chipped off, sitting there in front of her as I tried to pretend I was okay.

I could feel something ticking inside of me, but I fought it.

I stayed busy with packing and getting ready instead.

I decided to do a full wash day, tending to my curls with a different set of products.

I had to throw the others out since Monroe had given me them, but still, all I could think about was her as I did my hair.

These new products were good, but annoyingly not as good as the ones she had gifted me.

I made sure my curls were dried to my liking before slipping on a grey sweatshirt with matching sweatpants.

My skin glowed from my skincare, and my curls framed my face just perfectly.

I sprayed on the perfumes I've recently been using, refusing to use the roll-on fragrances anymore.

At directly three on the dot, I headed down to the lobby of my apartment building.

As expected, a black SUV waited patiently out front for me.

Apparently, all the patients attending this retreat were being transported in the same SUV from their current location.

I assume my mother's money is covering this, so it's not really a me problem.

Until she decides to pop up again, but that only happens if she needs something or it involves her directly.

My mother said she would leave me alone, but I've recently realized she's always done that.

She's never been around unless it had anything to do with her.

"Ms. Fierro," the driver greeted me with a smile, his brown hair gelled back out of his face as he wore a crisp black suit.

"Hi," I smiled, watching as he respectfully opened the backseat door for me.

I briefly thanked him as I slid into the roomy backseat, leaving my suitcase with him as he closed the back door.

Once he put my suitcase in the trunk, he walked toward the driver's side, sliding into the front seat as I pulled out my phone to keep me busy.

What I didn't realize was how long this drive would be.

I thought it was going to be an hour, but it was close to two.

I tried to stay busy on TikTok or texting Zion and Sarai.

I've recently grown to hate sitting still—I always need something keeping me occupied or moving.

So the drive alone triggered me more than it should've, itching to finally make it to wherever this retreat was.

I curiously glanced out the window when we approached the tall black gates, which slowly slid open for the SUV.

The winding driveway was long and surrounded by endless tall trees.

But soon, I caught sight of the tall building, illuminated by soft lights.

There was a koi pond directly in the middle of the circular driveway with other black SUVs parked around it.

The different drivers were helping with bags, and I even noticed various people slipping out of the cars or approaching the tall building.

Tall trees surrounded the property as well, the gloomy grey sky adding to the calmness of the retreat.

I noticed Dr. Kincaid standing in front of the building immediately, wearing a grey button-down shirt and dress pants with leather loafers.

My thoughts short-circuited as soon as my stare shifted over—

And landed on her.

Monroe was standing beside Dr. Kincaid with her posture as high as usual and her chin leveled.

My grip tightened around my phone, and my breathing grew shallow, eyeing the familiarity of her.

From the smooth black long-sleeve she wore, to the matching dress pants and stilettos.

Her familiar dark hair was in a high bun, her bangs framing her face perfectly.

There wasn't a single thing out of place on her.

Of course.

I blinked a few times when the car came to a smooth halt, internally panicking.

She wasn't supposed to come.

I thought she wasn't coming?

She said space—

"Wait," I blurted just as the driver reached for his door.

I noticed his brows furrowed in the rearview mirror, but he remained still out of respect for my wishes.

"Sorry, I just need a minute," I quickly added, glancing back out of the heavily tinted window.

I stared at Monroe again, trying to steady my breathing.

Or how fast my heart is beating.

My hands... they'retrembling.

Okay, it's not a big deal—stop making it a big deal.

But I'm not ready to see her.

It's been two weeks.

Two fucking weeks since the last time I laid eyes on her—and that awful frat party.

Maricel would love this.

She would probably hitchhike here just to take my place.

I quickly shook my head,stop thinking about her.

"Ma'am?" the driver asked awkwardly, making my focus snap away from the window.

"Uh, sorry, I can get my own door," I quickly said.

He nodded in response, opening his door to grab my suitcase from the trunk.

I turned my head, glancing out of the window again.

And that's when I saw it.

Her gaze.

Her blue eyes locked on the SUV, trailing the vehicle like she already knew who was inside.

Then she looked directly at the window.

Directly at me.

Even though she couldn't see me through the heavy tint, it felt like she did.

Especially as we indirectly held each other's stare through the darkened window.

It made the nerves in my stomach grow worse, wanting to somehow hide under the seat and disappear.

Or maybe go back to Seattle and forget this ever happened.

But the driver was already rolling my suitcase to the front.

Monroe's stare shifted away from the window I hid behind, breaking the contact we held.

Dr. Kincaid glanced over too, halting her current conversation with a patient to listen to whatever my driver was telling them.

I swear it made it worse.

Whatever he was saying made this fucking worse.

Especially when Dr. Kincaid and Monroeglanced over to the SUV I sat in.

He probably told them I didn't want to get out or something.

He's such a snitch.

This is why I hate men.

I drew in a deep breath when Dr. Kincaid suddenly stepped forward, briefly saying something to them both.

Whatever it was, it made Monroe blink blankly.

Until she glanced away from Dr. Kincaid entirely, who was now approaching the SUV I sat in.

I looked away from the window immediately, staring down at my phone as I tried to gather my nerves.

Fuck this.

Seriously, fuck this.

Why did I agree?

She wasn't supposed to come.

Then again, she's hosting this fucking retreat.

What did I expect?

She should've said no.

She shouldn't have let me come here.

There's supposed to be space—

I glanced over when the back door opened, my eyes locking with Dr. Kincaid's.

"Liberty," she greeted, her voice softened and her dark eyes trailing my face, "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," I said way too fast, forcing a tight smile, "I just was um... in the middle of texting."

Dr. Kincaid briefly glanced down at my locked phone.

Then smiled slightlyas if she knew I was lying. "Are you ready to get out now?" she asked, meeting my stare again.

"Yeah-sure," I awkwardly whispered, as I slid out of my seat.

Dr. Kincaid extended her hand, and I didn't hesitate to reach out for her.

The smoothness of her skin connected with mine, allowing her to help me down from the SUV.

"Thanks," I mumbled, pulling my hand away first as she closed the door behind me.

I didn't look in Monroe's direction.

Notonce.

I walked beside Dr. Kincaid toward the building, trying to keep my breathing steady.

But it grew harder to remain unaffected, verging closer and closer to her presence at the front of the building.

I unconsciously held my breath as we passed right by her, feeling the weight of her stare shift to me.

She didn't say a word.

But I heard her inhale.

A slow, deliberate pull of breath that felt too intentional to be coincidental.

She was... smelling me?

Or maybe I'm being delusional.

Maybe she was just breathing.

Yet, somehow, it left me feeling exposed.

Like we just exchanged something intimate, even if it was as small as a breath of air.

I couldn't focus if I tried.

Everything felt blurred around me, and I hated it.

I hated how warm my face felt, or that she still had this effect on me.

I glanced around the clean lobby of the retreat, breathing in the soft citrus scent.

The walls were made of light stone with fresh plants by the stone stairs and over by the couches situated around a wooden coffee table.

Dr. Kincaid's voice echoed in my ears as she motioned around, giving me a brief tour of everything.

I followed her past the main room with the couches, passing by the dining room where two wide wooden tables were with cushioned chairs around them.

Dr. Kincaid briefly motioned to the double doors off to the side, telling me it was the chef's kitchen.

Past the dining room was another large room with cushioned chairs situated by the glass doors.

There were shelves lined with wellness books along with more couches off to the side.

Instead of some sort of fireplace, there was a contained glass waterfall against the wall, the sound of soft flowing water echoing through the room.

I expected the rooms to be more like a hotel, but as soon as Dr. Kincaid led me out past the main building—

I realized I was wrong.

There were sidewalks leading to different small buildings.

I noticed other people were out here too, walking to their specified rooms.

It was really pretty—the mountain view beyond the numerous buildings, all spread out through the thick woods.

The sidewalks and buildings were illuminated, adding to the design of the retreat.

Dr. Kincaid pointed to various buildings, pointing out a yoga studio, the spa building, therapy offices, and something called a quiet zone.

There were also trails for hiking or running.

"We're having dinner at six in the main building where we just came from," Dr. Kincaid explained as I zoned back into her words, noticing the small building we were approaching.

"I'm not that hungry," I quickly said, knowing the last thing I wanted to do was share a meal with Monroe right now.

I don't care how hungry I am—I would rather starve.

"Are you sure? The drive was very long," Dr. Kincaid said as we stopped by the door, reaching behind the plaque, which was engraved with the room number five.

"I ate before I came," I lied as she grabbed the key card from behind the plaque, reaching down to unlock the door for me.

"Okay, well, it's always an option if you change your mind," Dr. Kincaid assured me as she opened the door, handing me the key card.

"Thank you," I said, taking the card from her.

"Of course, let me know if you have any issues with settling in," she said as I walked inside the dim room.

The door softly fell shut behind me as I walked further into the room, where my suitcase already sat by the large bed.

The wooden floors glistened under the dim lights, the windows across from the bed giving me a view of the endless tall trees.

The room was modern and made mostly of wood, even the bed sat on a wooden platform hovering over the floor.

The walls were made of this sleek black stone that was in the attached bathroom as well, whether it was the shower walls or the counter outlined with it.

It was really nice, honestly.

The only thing that sucked was something called a phone bowl.

A note beside it instructed that all phones should remain inside your room at all times, and the phone bowl is there if you choose to leave your phone in it.

I'll probably just leave mine on the charger, but suddenly I don't want to leave my room.

At least not without my phone.

What will I look at when things get awkward?

I knew I definitely wasn't going to that dinner.

I got unready instead, pulling my curly hair into a bun and taking a hot shower.

The water pressure was perfect, and the stone shower was huge with a skylight directly above it.

Somehow, the glass on the skylight didn't fog up, giving me a view of the gloomy sky above.

The sun was setting, but with all the clouds, the sky only got darker without the sunset effect.

I found it soothing, and it gave me an excuse to get tucked into bed and watch a movie.

The time had pushedpast seven at this point, and I wondered if Monroe had gone to that dinner.

If she noticed my absence.

Realistically, she probably went as she's the host.

And she might've noticed my absence.

She probably just didn't care.

I didn't let it affect me—or at least I tried not to.

Every time she crossed my mind, I made myself zone back in on the random movie I picked.

But at some point, I had to distract myself with TikTok, hating how easily she's infiltrating my thoughts.

I also took my melatonin early, hoping to make myself tired quicker.

I had already done my nightly routine and brushed my teeth after my shower, so I just kept scrolling on TikTok until I began dozing off.

At some point, I woke back up to a video playing on a loop, my phone resting in my open hand.

I locked my phone, flipping over in the bed as I fell right back into my deep sleep.

But hours later, I wasstartled awake by the familiar feeling.

Hunger.

I've experienced it a lot during these past few mornings, given that I struggle to eat even one meal a day.

Normally, my body forces me to eat breakfast due to the pain that my hunger brings me.

I didn't even check the time as I slipped out of bed, walking through the dark room toward the bathroom.

I quickly prepared my toothbrush with toothpaste, brushing my teeth as I ventured back into the room where my suitcase was spread open.

All I wore was an oversized t-shirt and seamless underwear, so I pulled on a pair of sweatpants, given that I would be walking out into a public space.

Once I finished brushing my teeth, I grabbed my key card and walked out of my room.

The sky was still dark, the soft sunrise peaking at the edges of the horizon.

The air was cold and almost moist from how deep in the forest we were.

It was nice, the air felt really fresh, and I could breathe better than usual.

The sidewalks and buildings were illuminated just as they were yesterday evening, making it relatively easy to navigate toward the main building.

All I could think about was the chef's kitchen Dr. Kincaid pointed out yesterday evening.

I'm sure it's stocked with food.

I just wanted snacks.

Maybe cereal.

Why do I feel like there's only going to be a bunch of healthy stuff?

Monroe is the one hosting this, so I wouldn't even be surprised.

I briefly glanced around the main area of the building, noticing the dimmed lights and how eerily empty it was.

I walked toward the dining room, trying my best to be quiet.

I'm not sure if anyone is in here or not, and I definitely don't want to draw attention to myself.

I drew in a deep breath as I slowly pushed one of the double doors open, slipping into the dark kitchen.

The only light was from the one over the stoves, giving me some sort of way to see.

I quickly walked over to the cabinets, praying that there would be something good.

But all there was were organized ingredients, like vegetables, rice, beans—stuff that I couldn't conveniently eat.

Well, except for the granola that looked homemade.

I grabbed that first and set it on the metal island that had wheels.

There were also pots and pans hanging from the ceiling over the island—they had hooks so you could easily take them off and use them.

It was the most commercial kitchen I had been in.

It looked like a restaurant kitchen, especially with the fridge that was as big as two combined.

I grabbed one of the numerous jars inside, furrowing my brows as I eyed it.

I think it's overnight oats.

I glanced back over to the fridge, noticing the freshly prepared fruit.

There were rows of it in glass containers, all neatly cut and washed.

This is heaven.

I suddenly froze, turning around when I heard soft footsteps nearby.

Or maybe I was hallucinating.

They sounded really soft, barely even audible.

I quickly closed the fridge, ducking down behind the metal island.

Fuck, I forgot about the stuff I set out.

But it was too late to grab it, hearing one of the double doors push open.

This is going to be a really awkward explanation to the chefs.

I should've just grabbed the food and run.

But I'm too hungry to wait for anything.

I didn't even eat a decent meal yesterday—all I had was that blueberry tea and a banana.

My stomach is physically aching for something at this point.

"Liberty?"

I glanced over immediately, feeling everything in my body tense at her familiar soft voice.

I haven't heard it since I sat through all those interviews and podcasts a week ago.

It's been even longer since I heard it in person.

It made goosebumps prickle all over my body, processing her presence just feet away from me.

Her silky hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, her bangs damp against her glowing forehead.

Sweat glistened along the edges of her face and collarbones, catching the dim light like morning dew on skin.

She wore black leggings and a matching compression shirt that clung to her sweaty body.

It clung so harshly that it outlined her toned stomach, the curves of her waist, and hugged the swell of her breasts with infuriating precision.

She might as well be wearing nothing at all.

I hope no one else has seen her like this.

I quickly glanced away from her when she tilted her head, unable to meet her stare as I visibly swallowed.

I already knew this would haunt me for days, her all wet and sweaty like this.

Fuck.

"Why are you hiding behind this?" Monroe asked, taking a step toward me and making everything around me grow fuzzy.

Suddenly, I couldn't think properly.

"I didn't know if I could be in here," I forced out, trying to make my voice a little more audible as I stood up from the floor.

There's no way I could sit on the floor while she stands.

The height difference alone brings back very specific memories.

"You are aware that you can order breakfast?" Monroe said as I continued avoiding her overall existence right by me, "Or did Dr. Kincaid not give you a proper tour?"

I glanced over before I could stop myself, meeting her blue eyes already locked on me.

Her targeted words made something inside of me burn up.

Or maybe it was the scent of her.

Somehow her floral perfume was stronger with her sweaty like this, and it's driving me insane.

"Dr. Kincaid gave me a very in-depth tour," I said, purposely emphasizing my words, "I'm just hungry right now."

Monroe remained silent for a moment, her blue eyes burning so deeply into mine.

It made me clench my jaw, trying my best not to look away first.

But it felt hard when the seconds grew heavier and longer.

And all we did was stare at each other.

"She should've included the specific times to order your meals," Monroe finally spoke again, her words challenging mine.

"She must've been too busy walking me to my room," I shrugged nonchalantly, challenging her right back as I reached for the container of granola.

"I'm not surprised," Monroe subtly murmured, grabbing the jar of overnight oats I had previously taken from the fridge. "Did you want fruit on this, Liberty?"

My eyes snapped back to her, "Yes, but I can do it myself," I said, giving her a narrowed look, "I'm capable of making my own breakfast, Monroe."

The words came out more defensive than I anticipated, but she doesn't get to make my breakfast.

Not anymore.

Monroe only nodded, "Of course," she said, carefully setting the jar back down. "Did you want to continue hiding behind the counter on your own, too, or just the breakfast?"

I rolled my eyes. "Fuck you," I purposely cussed, "Dr. Leclair," I added with a fake sweetness in my tone, glancing down when she rolled her soft lips into a pursed line.

I fucking hate that I've missed that.

I've missed her lips,even looking at them.

They look even softer now, glistening with the Chapstick she always wore.

I could still taste it, the way it always lingered on my lips after we kissed.

I suddenly glanced up from her lips when sheblinked, my stare aligning with hers again.

Her dark blue eyes burned so deeply into mine.

It made me draw in the deepest breath, especially when shetilted her head slightly.

There was this tension, we could both feel it burning between us.

Even the silence felt too loud.

I blinked a few times when she glanced away from me, allowing me to breathe properly again.

"You have such kind words, Liberty," she softly murmured as she walked over to the fridge, opening it to grab a bottle of water.

I clenched my jaw, hating that my previous cuss word alone didn't receive a better reaction.

She's doing this on purpose.

"Maybe I willorder my breakfast," I mumbled as I set the container of granola down with a clatter. "Have fun putting this stuff back up," I purposely said.

"Oh, Iadore organizing. Thank you, Liberty," Monroe just had to say, making me roll my eyes to myself as I walked over to the double doors, "I suppose you won't be making your own breakfast."

"Anything to get away from you," I mumbled over my shoulder, meeting her blue eyes one last time.

But as fucking usual, her expression was neutral.

She hasn't changed, and I'm not surprised even in the slightest.

"Enjoy your breakfast," she murmured, twisting the plastic water bottle open with ease before lifting it to her soft lips.

I had to physically restrain myself from looking at them again.

"Thanks, Dr. Leclair," I mumbled with a fake smile, walking out of the dim kitchen before she could have the last word.

But somehow it felt like she won the entire conversation anyway, making me grow more irritated.

It didn't help that I was hungry.

She's frustrating in all the ways I remember.

My brows unconsciously furrowed,pausing my steps when I noticed Dr. Kincaid seated at one of the many dining room tables.

She was focused on the papers spread out in front of her, wearing a dark sweater and dress pants.

I wondered if she heard our conversation in the kitchen.

It wasn't significantly inappropriate.

I think?

"Dr. Kincaid," I hesitantly said when she glanced up from her papers, her dark eyes locking with mine.

"Liberty," she smiled, setting her pen down, "Good morning."

I pursed my lips into a smile, "Yes, good morning," I said, blinking a few times, "How long have you been out here?" I unconsciously asked, walking closer.

"A few minutes. There's a lot to prepare for today," Dr. Kincaid briefly explained, her dark eyes trailing my face.

I hummed, almost awkwardly, "Yes, definitely," I said, briefly glancing around the empty room, "I should probably go get ready for today, actually."

Dr. Kincaid nodded in acknowledgment, "I'll see you later, Liberty," she said, already picking her pen back up.

I nodded wordlessly, heading for the glass doors that led outside.

"And you can order breakfast at six."

My feet halted underneath me, pausing from Dr. Kincaid's directed words.

The lowered tone she used.

Sheoverheard me and Monroe.

This is awkward.

"Thanks, uh... for telling me," I forced out, walking faster toward the doors before this could get even more awkward or Monroe possibly walk out of the kitchen as well.

The cold air wrapped around me as soon as I stepped outside.

Yet my body burned from this warmth glowing around me.

I know it was a short conversation and filled with passive aggression, but everything always feels complete when I speak even one word to Monroe.

I missed hermore than I thought was possible.

And I've been reeling really badly.

I'm not sure how I'm going to survive this entire weekend without ruining all my mental and emotional progress.

I just need to stay as far away from her as possible, and maybe I can benefit from this weekend.

Also... Dr. Kincaid.

I should probably tread carefully with her too.