“Letting whom down?”

Lifting my head, I cock a brow and give her a classic who-do-you-think look. “Mom, Bailey, and Dad.” I’ve known for several weeks that I’m letting them down, but that’s the first time I’ve said it out loud. There’s something about saying it aloud that makes it so much more real. “You’re waiting for me to tell you how I’m letting them down, aren’t you?”

Dr. Perry flashes her signature beauty queen smile. “I’m proud of you, Katie. You’re finally catching on to this.” The corner of my mouth lifts just a fraction before I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. “Wait!” She puts out a hand to stop me from answering. “First, I want to know why you left Wyatt out. Do you feel like you’re letting him down too?”

Oh, hell no. I’m not about to dive into that mess right now. “One thing at time, Doc. Take your pick.”

Her lips purse but she nods. “Please, keep going.”

My body relaxes. There is only so much I can take, and I’ve just about had my fill. “I don’t understand how Mom and Bailey have been able to move on. I don’t get how they can go about their days like nothing happened.” Anxiety swirls through my body. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly to try and keep myself calm. “They smile, laugh and carry on just like they did when he was alive.”

“Does it bother you that they do those things … that they seem happy?”

“No,” I answer, nodding my head yes. “Maybe.” Leaning forward, I bury my face in my hands and then drag them through my hair. “I don’t know,” I mumble, shrugging my shoulders. “It makes me feel like they’ve moved on … like they don’t care. But I realize that’s stupid. Of course they miss him. Of course they care. I just … I feel like there’s a line drawn in the sand, and they can jump freely from one side to the next while I’m stuck in one spot, completely frozen in place.”

“Why would you want to jump?”

“Because I don’t like feeling like this,” I snap. “I hate it. Anger isn’t something I’m used to, but I can’t seem to stop feeling it. And I’m completely indifferent to everyone around me. It’s like I’m an outsider looking in. I see what I’m doing and how I’m acting, but I can’t stop. I want to care that I’m hurting them, but I don’t. I simply don’t care.”

My eyes drift over Dr. Perry’s shoulder as those words sink in. Oh my gosh. I don’t care. These are the people I love, the people that love me despite everything I’ve put them through, and I don’t care that I’m hurting them. I wait for the familiar pressure to build behind my eyes or the burn in my nose to signal a breakdown, but nothing comes. Nothing. What the hell does that say about me?

“Katie, are you okay?” Dr. Perry tilts her head, trying to catch my gaze, and I look at her and nod. “Can I speak freely for a second?”

This is different. She’s never asked that question before. “Sure,” I answer, hating how weak my voice sounds.

“You do care, or you wouldn’t be here.” Her words hit me like a ton of bricks and I look down, suddenly fascinated with the invisible piece of lint on my pants. “If you didn’t care, then when they begged and cried for you to get help, you wouldn’t have listened. But you’re here, and you haven’t missed a session. And every time we meet, you open up a little bit more. That tells me you care.”

She’s right. I know that she’s right, but why do I keep acting like a bitch? Why does the thought of being around them and spending time with them make my skin crawl? Why do I insist on keeping myself closed off? Why do I ignore their calls and snap at them when I do see them?

“I don’t know. Only you can answer those questions.”

My eyes widen and I look up. “I, uh … I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“But you did.”

“I did,” I acknowledge.

“So what’s the answer? Why does the thought of spending time with your family make your skin crawl?” My chest tightens and my legs become restless, my knee bouncing at a fast clip. “Why are you keeping yourself closed off from them?” Dr. Perry’s calm voice does nothing to soothe me, and this time it doesn’t make me want to open up. Nope, this time it pisses me off because she’s getting a little too close.

“I don’t want to talk about this.” Pushing up from the chair, I walk toward the window and stare out at the Great Smoky Mountains. I love it here. The rippling creeks, rolling hills and—

“Why don’t you want to talk about it?”

Son of a bitch, she is good with those stupid-ass, open-ended questions. “If I answer your question, can we change the subject?”

“For now.”

My stomach tightens at the knowledge that I should’ve driven that night. I haven’t told anyone else that little piece of information because I’m ashamed. I’m the reason my mom lost her husband, and I’m the reason Daddy won’t be there to walk Bailey down the aisle.

Reaching forward, I grip the base of the window and lean down. My lip trembles and I drop my chin to my chest, then blow out a slow breath. With my eyes squeezed shut, I open my mouth … but nothing comes out. I can’t. I can’t do this.

“It’s okay to cry, Katie,” she whispers from behind me.

I spin around, my eyes wide, my head shaking frantically from side to side. “Oh, I’m not going to cry.” The first tear drips down my face.

Dr. Perry tosses her notepad on the table. Pushing up from her seat, she walks to her desk and grabs a Kleenex, which she pushes into my hand. “I know you’re not, but if you decide to, I want you to know it’s okay. We all cry. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“It should’ve been me,” I blurt. Guilt penetrates the solid wall around my heart, and for the first time in several weeks I feel that horrible pain I’ve been working so hard at pushing away. My hand rubs absently at the ache in my chest and I suck in a sharp breath. “When I’m around them, I feel guilty … because it should’ve been me. And then I get angry that it wasn’t me, and then the anger takes over and all I can think about is Andrew Drexler.” Just saying his name makes me want to punch something. I curl my fingers, digging my nails into the palm of my hand. “I hate him,” I seethe. “I hate what he represents. I hate that he was so careless. It makes me sick. He’s a fucking soldier, Dr. Perry. He’s supposed to protect this country, not murder innocent civilians—”

“Katie—”

“No.” I shake my head, refusing to let her try and change my mind. “It’s true. He murdered my dad. I don’t give a shit what he’s gone through or how many lives he’s saved. It doesn’t give him the right to do what he did. It doesn’t give him the right to get behind the wheel three sheets to the wind and put everyone else’s life in danger.”

“Do you think about him often?” Dr. Perry’s question throws me off balance. I take a step back.

“Yes, I think about him often,” I admit. “I think about him rotting in jail.”

“How about your mom and sister?” she asks. “How do they feel about him?”

A maniacal laugh falls from my mouth. “They’ve forgiven him.” My eyebrows furrow and I search Dr. Perry’s face for something—anything—that tells me she thinks that sounds as crazy as I think it does. “They’ve actually forgiven him.”

Dr. Perry’s knowing eyes watch me. Her stare becomes too intense. Turning away, I walk back to the couch and sit down. Crossing my arms over my chest, I effectively close myself off … or put on my armor … no difference, I guess.

Dr. Perry follows suit and sits down across from me in her plush chair, but she doesn’t look comfortable. She scoots to the edge and props her elbows on her knees. “Katie.” Her voice is careful and I lean back, unsure of what she’s about to say. “Have you ever wondered what he’s been through?” My jaw drops and her words rush out before I have the chance to argue. “Have you wondered what kind of life he’s lived, or the things he might have seen at war, or worse yet, what he’s had to do at war?”