25. Connor

Turned out, I didn't have to drop much backstory for Dr. Hawking.

I couldn't tell if that was a relief or horrific, to be known already. She let me talk, but clearly, she already knew who I was—Connor Darling, whose kid had been lost in the local forest three years ago.

So while I told her that no one believed Jessie was ever coming back, how much that hurt, how crazy I felt for holding on, she smiled knowingly at me and said she didn't think it was crazy.

That didn't mean she wanted me to run off into the woods though...

"Let's just imagine that you and Jessie are reunited. They'll need you to help them readjust. If you're not okay, not taking care of yourself, they might feel like they need to do it alone to make up for the time they were away."

I flinched, horrified. I couldn't think of anything worse than Jessie becoming someone else who saw all the cracks in me.

"You look upset," Dr. Hawking said.

"I don't want Jessie to ever feel like they have to take care of me. It's my job to take care of them."

She nodded. "Yeah, a lot of parents feel like that. It's not always possible, but we do our best."

I grimaced. My best was pretty lacking.

"Anyone could've lost Jessie that day, Connor. The parents you work with—they're all doing their best, right? The tragedies that have befallen them—are they their fault?"

I shook my head.

"This isn't your fault either. But it's important for you to not lose yourself to the idea that you owe more than is reasonable to give. You'll have to find something to counterbalance the impulse to define your life around one tragedy. It's hard enough for parents, to find identity outside raising a family, so I'm not saying it'll be easy, but if you can take care of yourself, you'll be better able to take care of the people around you. And coming here, talking to someone, is a great first step. Are there other ways you take care of yourself?"

"I'm thinking about moving here," I blurted out.

That wasn't exactly taking care of myself, but, well, self-care wasn't really my thing, and this was a choice I was making just for myself. Well, myself and Mattias, maybe.

Dr. Hawking folded her hands and leaned back in her chair. "Okay. Tell me more about that."

"Well, at first, it was just—I feel like Jessie's here, you know? Like I could turn a corner and they'd just be there beside me."

Dr. Hawking was just watching me, quiet and patient. I worried she was going to tell me that was a delusion, but I sat there for long enough and she didn't say anything, so I kept on.

"But now, it's... more? I always liked this town. Or, well, the idea of a little town, close community, somewhere safe and sweet where it was easier to know your neighbor, raise a family, see birds other than pigeons."

"Other than Jessie, is there any reason for you to pick this small town over any other?"

"Mattias," I answered instantly. "I'm—he's—okay, so he was there for me through all this, but it's—I'm falling for him. Or have fallen for him? I don't know. It's... hard to tell when it started, because I just... showed up. Sad and lost and he—he and his grandmother—they... never made me feel unreasonable or unwanted. And he's so kind and?—"

"You really like him?"

"I really like him."

"Do you think you'd still like him if you'd met under different circumstances? If it hadn't been for Jessie going missing?"

I stopped, pinching my lips between my teeth. The questions deserved proper consideration, but?—

"Yeah. He's amazing. He makes me laugh. I feel lighter around him. It's not—I mean, I can't think of anyone better to turn to about Jessie and what that was like, sure, but he was there through all the searches and everything. But it's more than that. My life's better with him in it. Even chatting on the phone about his grandma's dog getting into the trash—all of it. He makes my days brighter. I just worry?—"

Dr. Hawking tilted her head to the side. "Worry about what?"

"That I'm too much for him? Too much, I don't know, of a mess? That I'm not okay, and that he'd be better off with—not me?"

She hummed. "Does Mattias struggle with anything?"

"Sure."

"And would you say that he needs to be wholly well to be worthy of your time, attention, or energy?"

I scowled. "Of course not."

"But you think you need to be wholly well to be worthy of his?"

"I—"

Her expression hadn't changed, patient and kind, waiting for me to come up with an answer she already knew I'd formulated.

I sighed. "I'm supposed to be different."

"Different how?"

"Just... competent, I guess? Not needy or broken or sad. I'm supposed to take care of, well, everything. And if we're together, that certainly includes him."

"Does Mattias want that?"

I swallowed. "We... haven't discussed it that explicitly."

"Do you think he wants that?"

I took a moment, scanning through my memories of every conversation we'd had, looking for any proof that yes, he expected me to take care of him. Trevor had, in a lot of ways. My mother had been concerned about her lifestyle when I'd left Darling International, even though her residuals were more than enough to live comfortably.

Scratching my hand through my hair, I grimaced. "I think... maybe I'm just used to people wanting that? My father was this All-American perfect businessman. Never had feelings, never stumbled, always there to provide. I had everything I needed, everything I wanted, and—I don't know. I've never been able to give anyone that. Not in a way that—I don't know—fixed everything?"

"I suspect, if any level of professional commitment or material goods would solve the problem of missing your child, you wouldn't still feel discontented. It's not as if you're not successful. Not only did you maintain your father's company for years, but you've started your own. Done a lot of good, important work."

"More important than shipping," I muttered to my lap.

"What's that?"

I flushed when I met her eye. "I think Tadpoles... our work. It's more important than what I was doing with Darling International."

Dr. Hawking grinned like I'd just solved a puzzle. "I think so too. Imagine Jessie in your shoes. Any father who truly wanted to provide for his family, see them satisfied and cared for, would be proud of what you've accomplished."

My eyelids fluttered and I looked down. Would Dad have been proud of me? Maybe. I wasn't sure he'd ever have said it, but I didn't need him to, because—because yes. If Jessie had lost a child, had turned that into opportunities to help other families, had never given up on finding them, I would've been proud. Staggeringly proud.

Dr. Hawking let me sit with it, work through it, and when I met her eyes again, she smiled softly. "People are complicated," she said. "We can hold all kinds of seemingly opposing feelings inside us at once—hope and grief, love and loss, pride and doubt. It's when we throw ourselves to one side of the balance that we become disregulated, and the traumas you've experienced—anyone would struggle to keep balance after that."

I sat there, stunned, not sure what to say. I felt... slightly less like a disaster than I had in years.

"And it's not... delusional, for me to hold onto?—"

"Your child?" Dr. Hawking said when I fell silent.

I nodded.

"In Cider Landing? No, you can live your life and leave the door open, but until there's a reason to think otherwise, I see no reason for you to give up hope."

For the first time, I saw a strange distance in her expression that I didn't know how to read, but our time was up, and I?—

Surely she didn't know any more than I did, and if I wanted to convince people I was sane, questioning whether or not my brand-new therapist knew about disappearing kids was probably out of line.