This Love

Chapter 60

HARRY STYLES

The first time I ever considered going to therapy was actually when I was trying to get over Scarlett the first time she left me, so I suppose I can appreciate the irony of being here with her now, waiting for Dr. Wright to call us in.

When she told me that she wanted me to go to her sessions with her, I thought for sure she just wanted to see what my reaction to that would be. I was positive that she would have changed her mind, but she confessed that telling Dr. Wright the full truth about Frank, or what she remembers, isn't something she wants to do alone. She also might have mentioned that it would be good for me to hear it too, though I have to say I'm not looking forward to listening to that part. It's selfish, but I'd stay naive if it were up to me.

And part of me wonders if maybe Scar is having second thoughts when Dr. Wright appears, and I feel her hand tense and tighten in mine before she slowly stands. I look up at her from my chair until she nods, at which point I stand to follow her down the hall to Dr. Wright's office.

It's small, but not uncomfortably so, and it's very obvious that it's supposed to be a calming space. The warm and dim lighting offers that, plus the layered rugs and the work couch cushions. It doesn't feel sterile or rigid like any "doctor's office" I've ever been in.

"So," Dr. Wright smiles the sweetest smile as Scarlett and I sit on the loveseat across from her. "You must be the famous Harry. I've heard a lot about you."

I laugh as Scarlett rolls her eyes. "Likewise. It's nice to meet you."

She nods and crosses one leg over the other in her long cotton black skirt. "How are you feeling, Scarlett?"

"Better," she keeps her hand in mine. "Definitely better, and I'm happy to be back in London."

"Well, that's great," Dr. Weight seems to genuinely mean that. "Did you want to talk about the reason you left?"

Scarlett nods as she uses the nail on her index finger to pick at her thumb cuticle. "Yeah, so, um...I'm just not really sure where to start."

"Wherever it feels comfortable," Dr. Wright shrugs. "And I use the term 'comfortable' loosely; I understand that there might not be a comfortable place for you to begin."

"Mhm," she nods again, and I hope that my being here isn't keeping her from telling the truth or making her uncomfortable. "So you know how we talked about New Year's when I was sixteen? And you tried to talk to me about my stepdad but I didn't want to?"

"I remember, yes."

While I expected Scarlett to take a minute to gather her thoughts, she just started spitting it all out. She told Dr. Wright that Frank used to sleep in her bed with her when she was little, and that she was always too scared to tell him that she didn't like it when he'd hold her against her will. That's all news to me, so I'm trying to keep quiet and remember that this has absolutely nothing to do with me when all I want to do is stand up and shout about how wrong that is.

"I see," Dr. Wright keeps a sympathetic frown, but even I can tell that it's not meant to be condescending. I think Scarlett can see that too. "Did he ever touch you inappropriately when he'd sleep in your bed with you? Or ever, for that matter."

Scarlett inhales a deep breath, clears her throat and shakes her head as she shifts in her seat. She does that when she's uncomfortable. "I don't really know what's considered 'inappropriate' and what's not. He didn't do anything to me sexually in a literal sense, but I mean...if I was wearing a dress or a skirt then he would always put his hand under and rest it high up on my thigh when he'd make me sit on his lap, but he never touched me from what I remember. He just wanted his hand there."