I made an appointment with the therapist Warner gave me. Her name was Kendra Collins and from what I could find on the internet she seemed like a nice lady.

At first, I told myself I was going out of curiosity. When that got harder to believe, I said I was going for Warner and my friends. If going to a couple of therapy sessions eased their worries, it was a small price to pay. Of course, I would go.

But as the appointment drew nearer, I started thinking of all the reasons why I shouldn't go. It was a waste of time. How could a complete stranger help me with something I have struggled with my whole life?

In the end, I went to the appointment anyway.

I was in a waiting room, a space which held an uncomfortable-looking couch, a side table and a bookshelf. I hovered feeling like some sort of intruder. But I couldn't leave now. I walked to the couch and sank down on the cushions which were just as uncomfortable as they looked.

A few seconds later the office door opened. Two people come through, a man and a woman, The man gives me a polite smile and leaves to the outer door. I refocus on the woman, and she turns to me, still standing in the doorway.

Kendra Collins is petite. Her dark hair is secured in a knot at the back of her head, and her cheeks and eyelashes are free of makeup. She wears a white blouse, a pencil skirt, and heels.

"Juliet?" she smiles at me, and I stand up. She takes a few steps and holds out her hand. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Kendra."

After shaking her hand, she leads me into her office and shuts the door, gesturing to the elegant furniture set on one side of the room. "Please, sit anywhere you'd like."

There are two plush chairs facing an elegant sofa. After a moment, I head for one of the chairs and sit down awkwardly. This feels like some sort of interrogation.

"You're not on trial here," Kendra says gently, and my shoulders relax. I guess I look as nervous as I feel

"It's only our first session. We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to." She smiles and I try to get more comfortable in the chair.

We talk about everything but the reason that I am here. She asks me questions about cheerleading and my favourite tv shows. She asks me if I have any siblings or anyone special in my life. Just when I think this is just going to be a get-to-know-you session because there isn't much time left she shatters my false sense of security with a single question. "How long have you struggled with your eating disorder?" she asks me.

It was the first time I'd been asked this question directly. Unable to meet her eyes anymore, I transfer my gaze to her slicked hair. "I never used to think about my weight or what I looked like as a kid. I never noticed I was any different from the other kids until they pointed it out."

I stop, remembering the first time one of my classmates had pointed my weight out. Everyone was giving each other piggybacks at recess. It was my turn to get one and all of the kids fought over who would pick me up because none of them wanted to. I remember one of the boys said I was too heavy, and we should skip my turn.

Kendra looks like she wanted me to continue so I do. "I guess as soon as other kids pointed it out, I started to notice it more. As I got older, the more comments people made. But I didn't do anything about it till last year."

"What do you mean by 'did something about it?" she asks, holding her notepad and writing something down.

"I started trying to lose the weight."

"Did any particular incident trigger this change in attitude?"

I thought of my mom and how much she wanted me to get in shape. I thought of Sierra and how horrible she treated me. I thought of the night of the pool party.

"Yes"

"Can you tell me anything in particular?" she asks

"Many things. But I guess I just wanted to be different, I didn't like who I saw in the mirror anymore." I turn my face toward the window so I can look anywhere but her face.

"And did it work?"

Something in my chest loosens as I think back to me smashing the mirror in my bathroom a few days ago "No."

"Do you want to change that? Do you want to get better?"

"Yes"

I must not have been very convincing because she pauses and writes some words down on her notepad. There is a slight frown on her face.

"If you truly want to get better, I need it to be because you want to. I need you to trust me and be honest with me, but I also need you to really try here. It won't be easy, but it can happen."

"I want to get better"

Kendra is silent. I wait a few seconds, hoping she will be the one to break the silence. When the silence becomes too uncomfortable, I turn and look at her. The moment I make eye contact she asks, "Do you journal, Juliet?"

"No."

"That will be your task until our next meeting. Buy a notebook and treat it like a release. Don't worry about good writing or tying anything together." She stands up and smiles. A clear indication that our time was up. "It's just a stream of consciousness meant to let you process your trauma."

Trauma. The word makes me frown. But I say something polite and pick up my purse. Kendra walks with me to the door, then into the waiting room. I give her an awkward wave and step back out of the building. That wasn't as bad as I thought. I think she is easing me into talking about things. I was like a skittish cat and if she pressed too much too soon, I wouldn't come back.

But I was proud of myself. I went. I didn't run out. I went and I answered her questions. This was a start.

It's just after two pm when I pull into the parking lot of the dorm. Warner let me take his car and I practically had to force him and Abby to stay at the dorms. They wanted to come with me for support, but I told them I needed to do this alone.

I tighten my coat as I step out. The late December weather was extra chilly today, so I rush into the building. I walk into the elevator and press the button to our floor.

I can smell tomato soup as soon as I step onto our floor. I come around the corner into the kitchen and I can see that Warner has the ingredients out to make grilled cheese, including my favourite dairy-free cheese. Tomato soup with grilled cheese is my favourite meal on a cold day like today, Warner knows this. My comfort meal.

Warner is standing wearing a ridiculous 'kiss the chef' apron. Abby, Adam, Winston, Emma and Max are all sitting in the living room watching some friends reruns. Only Abby knows where I was today, and I can tell she wants to ask me how it went but thankfully she can't ask in front of everyone.

"You made my favourite cozy meal," I say to Warner.

"Yeah," he says, trying to act cool, putting a considerable effort to make his voice sound carefree even though I know he wants every detail of my appointment. "I thought it would be nice today."

I watch him, carefully grating cheese, and softly buttering the bread, as I unzip my boots and sit down. 

My phone starts ringing and I know the name that's on the screen before even looking. My mom had been calling ever since we moved back. It had only been a couple of days, but she was pissed at me for leaving.

I ignore the phone and walk over to Warner instead. I wrap my arms around him and snuggle my head into his chest stealing his warmth. He wraps his arms around me in an instant and I breathe him in.

"How did it go?" he whispers into my ear.

"Good. She seems nice. I am glad I went" I snuggle further into him, and he gives my waist a squeeze.

"I am proud of you for going." He whispers and I pull my head back to smile up at him.

"What's my reward?" I grin at him.

He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. "You'll get your reward right after you eat."

Such a mother hen

After eating both a bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese under the watchful eye of both Abby and Warner I walk into my dorm room and change into one of Warner's big t-shirts and collapse on my bed. I needed to study for my exams that were coming up right after New Year's, so I crack open a textbook and get to work.

After an hour or so Warner walks right into my room without any knock or warning. The noise scares me right out of my chair, and I stand up and clutch my chest to stop the heart attack I almost had. He ignores the fact that he scared the shit out of me, takes a long look at my legs which were bare and gives me a satisfied grin when he sees I am wearing his shirt.

"Are you coming here to study with me?" I ask tilting my head towards the stack of contract law textbooks I have piled on my desk.

"I wanted to hear about your session. But yes, we can study after if that's what you would like to do."

I give him a brief summary of my session with Kendra but after I finish and he gets up to crack open a textbook I stop him and pull him back to sit next to me. If I was going to continuously open up to him, I wanted the same in return.

Deep breath Juliet.

"I want to know more about your dad."

The room is so quiet that I can hear the very slow and controlled way that he's breathing, the way that he's forcing himself to stay calm. He sits down next to me on the bed and without thinking I raise my hand, softly brushing a dark curl out of his eyes. My hand rests then on the side of his head. Warner closes his eyes to it, as though my touch relaxed him, exhaling slowly.

"You want me to be open and honest about my mom and my-" I choke on the word "eating disorder". I shift uncomfortably on the bed. "So I want to know about your dad and the betting."

He clears his throat. The words that tumble out of his mouth sound as though they're being torn directly from the darkest depths of his heart. "It started when I was a kid. My dad has always been into sports betting but It wasn't until playing high-level soccer that he realized he hit the goldmine with me. At first, I thought it was fun. My dad would tell me not to score and if I listened to him I would get a new Xbox or some other toy I wanted."

He stops for a moment. It's hard for him to talk about this, he is refusing to meet my eye, so I just reach out and hold his hand from beside him.

"It only got worse when I stopped listening to him. There were games I didn't want to lose; I didn't like losing a championship simply because my dad told me to. That was when he started punishing me. If I won a game, I was supposed to lose he would take away all of the gifts he gave me. But when that wasn't enough, he started hitting me. At first, he would apologize for losing his temper but then it turned into a routine. I knew what was waiting for me if I went against his bets. I don't drink because every time my dad gave me one of his punishments he would sit down and pour himself a nice big glass of whiskey. Then he would make me sit down with him in his office while he finished it. I would know what was going to happen but couldn't do anything. I was going to sit there and let him have his drink before he hit me. Now I can't drink the stuff without thinking about those nights in his office."

I'm frozen in horror.

"Right." Warner looks into his hands. "So-"

"Oh my God," I gasp, covering my mouth. I have to look toward the wall to pull myself together. I blink several times and struggle to swallow back the pain and rage building inside of me. "I'm so sorry," I choke out. "Warner I am so sorry."

"That only worked when I was a kid, once I got older and started working out, I began to stand up for myself. He couldn't hurt me anymore, at least not physically-"

He looks up and tries to clear his throat and I know he needs a moment to pull himself together. I've run out of words. I'm so desperate to say something that I say nothing, and my heart is about to burst through my chest.

His head rolls on his shoulders until he's staring at the ceiling, avoiding my eyes, even though there's nothing in them for him to be worried about. "That's when he started threatening my mom instead, he said if I didn't keep controlling the games for him, he would hurt her like he hurt me. So, I kept doing it all throughout high school. In that championship game in our Junior year, I am the reason we lost. My dad placed a big bet on the other team, so I had to throw it. Not only did I play like shit, but I also had to fuck with my teammates as well. I put them all off their games. I took a championship away from all of them because I was too big a coward to go against my dad."

I'm mildly horrified. "You can't be serious. I lean forward to speak softly to him. "You are not a coward."

His eyes say that he truly believes that he is.

"I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to be disappointed or repulsed by me." He says quietly.

I hate that he thinks like that, and I can't stop my words from coming out soaked in sorrow and sympathy. "You were a child."

"So were you" he retorts but this isn't about my own childhood right now. This is about what my poor sweet Warner was going through, and I had no idea. I was so angry at him for never standing up for me during our childhood when he was dealing with his own bully at the time.

"Why aren't you looking at me any differently?" he asks me, brows furrowed as if he truly believed I would run out on him the moment I found out.

I swallow and shrug slowly. "Why would I?" I press my hands onto either side of his face, leaning down to murmur to him. "You were just a kid and after that, you were just protecting your mom. I would've done the same, Warner. I am not disappointed I am just sad you went through all this alone. And as if I could ever be repulsed by you. You are perfect," I tell him. So overcome I forget myself. "All of you. You're absurdly attractive in a way that doesn't make sense. Not only that but you have a heart of gold, and you are the bravest man I know. The most caring man I know." I say shaking my head.

Warner grabs my knees and turns me so my knees rest on his lap. Hands still on my knees, Warner talks in a quiet but firm voice. "You have to stop being so fucking perfect, Jules. I am doing my best to not overwhelm you with how much I love you. But if I'm going to succeed, you need to stop saying all the right things, making all the right sounds, and looking at me like I hung the damn moon."

I roll my eyes at him but his words mean everything to me. "You have been the strong one for both of us from the very beginning. I am so sorry that I thought the worst of you, I had no idea what you were facing at home. I wish I knew earlier; I wish I could've been there for you. Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

He cradles my face in his hands. "I didn't want to tell you because I thought if you knew what I did for my dad you wouldn't want to be with me." 

A shuddering breath escapes me and he presses in closer, his hands still framing my face. It all feels deeply intimate though, the way that we're sharing our breaths and staring into each other's eyes so openly. There's nothing hidden between us now, our souls have been stripped bare to each other, and I have no questions left about this man.

Every broken and scarred inch of him is known to me.

And I love it all.

He's done so much for me; he deserves better than what he has been given. Better than anything I could ever give him, but I try anyway.

"I know why you didn't tell me. You thought that if I got to know all of you, both the good and the bad that I wouldn't love you."

He nods and I take one look at him and know I love him even more than I did before. I love this man and he deserves to know it. 

"But I know all of you and I love every part of you. I love you, Warner Brooks."