Page 169 of The Broken Keys

“You know everything. What else do I need to say?”

“How are you and Livianna doing?”

“Fantastic.” My heart fills with warmth. “Living with her is everything I’ve dreamed of.”

“And you’re convinced you’ll lose her when she regains her memory.”

“Yes. We’ve covered that.”

“Cash, we’ll go over this issue until you’re settled.” Sloane crosses her legs and dips her chin in knowing. “If you ‘spiral,’ as you say, you could relapse.”

“I know.” I suck in a breath and release my fears on my exhale. “How do I trust I’m doing the right thing by her?”

“Have her doctors told you anything different than they did when they released her from the hospital?”

“No, but…” I rake my teeth over my bottom lip. “What do you think about it?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“It matters to me.” I lean forward with my elbows on my knees. “You’re the professional here.”

“And as a professional, I’m telling you that head trauma is complex.” Sloane sets her notepad aside and meets my gaze. “The brain doesn’t work on your timeline, Cash. It heals at its own pace.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” Her tone sharpens. “From what you’re telling me, Livianna seems happy. She’s working, she’s engaging with her business, and she’s building routines with you. Those are all positive signs.”

“But she doesn’t remember?—”

“She doesn’t remember five years. We’ve been over this plenty.” Sloane shifts in her oversized chair. “That’s her reality right now. And by your own admission, she’s functioning well within that reality.”

I sink back and run my palms over my thighs. “It feels like I’m lying to her every day.”

“You’re protecting her mental health per medicaladvice.” Sloane’s expression softens. “There’s a difference between lying and allowing someone to heal at their own pace.”

“Is there?”

“Yes.” She picks up her notepad again and references something. “Livianna’s doctors have been clear. Forcing memories or pushing her to remember could cause psychological harm. What does that mean to you?”

“That I have to keep my mouth shut.”

“No. It means you have to trust the process. Her brain experienced significant trauma. Pushing her to remember before she’s ready could trigger anything from anxiety attacks to complete psychological breaks. I don’t think that’s what you want.”

“Of course, it’s not.” My chest tightens at the thought.

“Then you need to let her heal.” Sloane taps her stylus against the screen. “Now, about how this is affecting you.”

“I’ve told you I’m happy. Ecstatic even. Everything in my life is going my way for once.”

“Yet, you won’t allow yourself to relax and live in that enjoyment.” Sloane’s tone turns stern. “Cash, listen to me carefully. Livianna is in a good place right now. She’s functioning and she loves you. Those are facts based on everything you’ve told me.”

“But it’s not real.”

“It is to her.” Sloane sets the notepad down again. “Help me understand why you’re struggling.”

“What if she remembers and hates me for not telling her?”

“What if she remembers and is grateful you gave her space to get better on her own timeline?” Sloane counters. “You’re catastrophizing based on fear, not facts.”