“Why is she insisting on discussing it with you?” Kitty continued.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what, or how she knows.”

“Harper, why are you concerned about her knowing?”

I turned my gaze to Fuego the Betta Fish, and wait.

“Harper, I want you to remember what I’ve been discussing with you. The only way that I can help you—and that you can help yourself—is if you’re willing to actually face situations like these that you want to bury in the sand.”

I swallowed and shook my head. “Nothing happened.” My throat was dry, making my voice sound slightly raspy. I cleared it and repeated the words.

“If nothing happened then why won’t you discuss it with her or with me?”

Sighing heavily, I focused my attention on my fingers. My skin was dry from the cold and washing them so often at the lab. I released a deep breath and my mind went blank because I had very few images of that night to go back to. “A couple of years ago, I was at a party and drank way too much. Way too much. I was there with a couple of different friends, but knew mostly everyone. I was fighting with my mom about where to go to school and still trying to figure out what I was going to go to school for, and was just feeling overwhelmed and frustrated. And so I did something really stupid. I got wasted beyond belief, with no one knowing to watch out for me.” I paused to run a hand over my bicep as chills licked at my skin.

“The next day I woke up in the hospital. I learned from a nurse that I had to have my stomach pumped from alcohol poisoning.”

Kitty hid it fairly well, but I could see her own surprise. We hadn’t really discussed anything that could be considered crazy or even shocking, besides the fact that I was nearly twenty before I lost my virginity—that one seemed to have surprised her.

“I was horrified when I woke up. I couldn’t believe that I had drunk so much and was so irresponsible. My parents freaked out. Later, one of my good friends Jess, stopped in, and she asked me if I could remember anything that had happened. I couldn’t of course. I could barely recall much past the first hour of being there, but she told me that she had found me in a bathroom with four guys that were undressing me and videotaping it.”

Seconds ticked by, and I allowed them to be filled with silence. I had never repeated the story to anyone outside of a nurse and later a doctor that assured me that they had been caught before doing any physical harm to me.

“Harper, one out of every five women is sexually abused in their lives. That’s the statistic that’s reported. However, in my personal and professional opinion, I know that number is far greater. I’m sorry you had to experience that situation. You’re right, you were not being responsible that night, but that in no way gave them the right to do what they did. You shouldn’t feel embarrassed to tell your sister or anyone else what happened.”

“I can’t tell her.”

“Why not?”

“She would be so ashamed of me. Not for what happened, but for not doing anything about it when it did.”

Kitty patiently listened as I continued to tell her my fears and concerns and then encouraged me to press charges. I explained to her that I knew I should have and wished that I had, but I didn’t even know who was in that room or what occurred.

Kitty’s legs cross, bringing me back to the moment, but I can’t rid the acidic feeling in my stomach for thinking about the conversation and that night again. “I’m glad it didn’t ruin the moment for you when you were ready.”

“It didn’t,” I assure her.

“So how are you feeling about going out with this new guy that you met?”

“He kissed me. Danny, that’s his name. He kissed me.”

“Did you want him to kiss you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you afraid of your feelings for him?”

“No. I just don’t know what I’m feeling. I have so many emotions running through me, that I feel like I’m about to lose my mind. And somehow, I keep coming back to the fact that my mom is engaged and wondering how in the hell she’s able to cope and get married to someone, when I freak out after a guy kisses me. Am I the deranged one, or is she?”

Kitty smiles at me and places her pen on the pad of paper that always sits on her lap while we meet. “Harper, neither one of you is deranged. You’re both trying to navigate your own way through life. There are no stoplights, maps, or billboards that can help us choose what path is going to be right for us. People move at different paces and take detours, while others remain on a focused journey. But there’s no way to say which route is correct; each person’s journey is right for them.”

“How can each person’s journey be right for them when some people do really terrible things?”

“There are always exceptions. I’m just speaking in broad terms. Let’s say you’re supposed to be here. Part of your path consists of moving to Delaware so you have the opportunity to learn more about yourself and what you want to get out of this trip that we call life. Maybe your future husband lives here. Or maybe he lives in Kentucky. There’s no way to know for certain, and you can’t plan that out. All that you can do is choose to be present during your life, and pay attention.”

“I can’t believe you’re making me be the third wheel on your date,” Fitz grumbles from the passenger seat of my car.

“It’s not a date. We’re all just hanging out.”

Fitz turns in his seat so that he’s facing me. I feel his eyes burning into me but pretend that I don’t.

“It’s not anymore, because you invited me.”

“It’s a barbecue at his parents’ house, Fitz. That isn’t a date. That’s either casual or something you do far, far, far down the road as a couple. I elect to believe that it’s a casual affair. And Danny had no problem with you coming. In fact, he said he thought it was a great idea.”

Fitz sighs again. “One day I’m going to get you drunk enough that you tell me about Max and what he did to you.”

“I’ve already told, you he didn’t do anything. We broke up.”

“Yeah, but people break up and then start dating again.”

“Fitz.” His name leaves me as a warning, and he accepts it by closing his mouth and turning back in his seat.

“Are you sure he said barbecue?” Fitz asks after a few awkward moments of silence.

“Apparently Detroit people are tougher than you New Yorkers,” I joke, turning on my windshield wipers as snow begins falling, adding to the thin layer already coating the ground. February and snow: I never knew those two co-existed.

I put the car in park and check my phone three times to ensure we’re at the correct house. It’s moderately sized and still has Christmas lights lining the roof.

We both exit the car and are halfway to the front door when it swings open and Danny emerges with his grin even bigger than I remembered.

“Hey, guys!” he calls, taking a step outside wearing only a T-shirt and jeans, seeming completely oblivious to the arctic tempered winds blowing around us.

Fitz and I hurry up the porch stairs and into the house, which is warm and filled with the scents of barbecue sauce and something fresh, like laundry detergent. We step into a formal living room that’s clean, but lived in.

Fitz and I begin the process of removing our layers as a couple walks into the room, dressed casually in jeans and sweatshirts.

“Mom, Dad, this is Harper and Maxwell.”

Danny’s dad smiles and it’s apparent where he inherited his dimples. The two look so similar it’s a little shocking. Danny’s smile is a little wider, his shoulders broader, and his hair is a lighter shade of brown, but other than that, the two are a matching set.

He steps forward, shaking Fitz’s hand and then mine. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I’m Daniel, and this is my lovely wife, Diane,” he says, waving a hand to Danny’s mom, who steps forward and rather than shaking our hands, hugs each of us. It’s a gesture that used to be second nature to me, and yet currently has me reaching to recall the movements.