Page 88 of Exile

"Think about it," he says, rolling his hand. "You feel worthy. That's huge, Avery."

"I—"

How do I respond to that? When did it happen? Somewhere along the line, I fell head over heels for these three guys, accepting it completely. I never believed it was conditional, attached with a price tag. I've never felt used or less than anything.

"They make me feel that way," I mumble, awkwardly shifting in my spot. "They forced me to believe it until one day I just did, I guess."

Dr. Smith beams at me. "I had a feeling it would happen."

"Because I was so desperate to be loved that I greedily accrued multiple partners to fill the mass void in my chest?" I snort sarcastically.

"I think they each bring out different parts of you."

Like each part fits together to make one piece. Maybe I was too broken, in many pieces that I needed more than one part to be put back together.

I think that's why I tried to fight it. To hide it.

I never thought that even one person could love me—all of me, broken shards and fragments—but they did. Yet, at every turn I expected them to walk away.

Every time I started to feel happy, there was a voice in my head that told me to push them away. Because people leave. Everyone leaves.

They leave me.

That mindset nearly cost me everything with Grey. I should have just spoken up about my fears, confided in him and given him the opportunity to reassure me. Instead, I broke his heart because I couldn't figure out how mine worked.

I'm just so thankful we found our way back and made this work. The four of us together, we fit. Four broken pieces with jagged edges, sharp enough to cut, but somehow, we piece together perfectly.

"They do bring out different parts of me. But I don't think any of us could have seen this coming," I muse.

Dr. Smithshrugs one shoulder. "I had a suspicion that you and Damon would become more to each other."

"Bullshit," I laugh. "We hated each other when I arrived months ago. He only tolerated me because of Grey. God, he threatened to kill me on more than one occasion."

"Murder threats is Damon's love language," Dr. Smith jokes. "But in all seriousness, Avery—you are so much like Aunt Lily. Always trying to please everyone while fighting silent demons. You see the good in people, often when it's well hidden."

"I think I just see the good as a way to convince myself that they won't hurt me," I admit.

He nods. "Definitely. It's a survival strategy, conceived by your mind. And also if you can make someone good, have them prove to be different than who they proclaim to be, then it will validate in your mind that not everyone is like your father."

Ouch.

I hate to agree with him but he's making way too much sense for a Thursday morning.

"So…" I start slowly. "I basically forced them all to fall in love with me for validation. And secretly they are walking red flags that I overlooked to prove a point?"

Dr. Smith cocks an eyebrow. "Interesting theory but I'm inclined to disagree. You're missing one key factor here."

"What's that?"

"You."

I jolt back, confused. "Me? Where do I fit into this equation?"

He smiles again. "You thinkyouforced them to fall for you, toput upwith this dynamic," he says, using air quotes. "But have you stopped to consider the possibility that you perhaps helped heal them?"

Blinking, I become speechless. Now he's talking trash for sure. I haven't healed anyone. If anything, I've probably activated a gene in their bodies to turn their hair prematurely gray and provide daily doses of anxiety.

"Maybe," he interjects when I don't reply. "You also wanted to save them like you feel they saved you, because you harbor some guilt about past things outside your control."