Ever After Always (Bergman Brothers, #3)
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Read between July 3 - July 4, 2023
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“I’ve got a lot going on professionally. I’ve been working more than ever. I think Freya’s fed up with how busy I’ve been.” “Okay,” Ren says gently. “That’s…it?” Shit, no. It’s not just cooler and quieter between us. Intimacy has broken down. And I know it’s my fault, but hell if I know how to begin fixing it. Not that I’m telling them any of that.
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“You heard me. A romance novel. Not that you’d know one if it fell from a bookshelf and smacked your dick.” “I’d remember anything that smacked my dick.” “In that case,” Viggo says, lunging toward me.
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LMAOOOO
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“Why are you working so much?” I stare down at my hands, my stomach twisting as I think about when things began to change. Because it’s so horribly unfair. Because I want a baby, too. I want a little person to love and do right by. Even if they’re only half as cute as Freya’s baby pictures—squishy cheeks and wide pale eyes with a shock of white-blonde chickadee hair—I know I’m going to be ruined for them. Just ruined. But that’s when it all went downhill. That’s when it tripped something inside me that I haven’t been able to get under control. That’s when work became something I couldn’t stop ...more
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“Why are you keeping things from us? We’re family. You can trust us with anything.” This is what’s so hard to articulate to people who haven’t grown up like me. When things get difficult, I rely on myself. Because when life’s taught you that you’re the one person you can count on to survive, the thought of exposing yourself to other people when you’re at your most vulnerable feels…nearly impossible. That I’ve been able to do it at all throughout my marriage—admittedly not very well these days—is a testament to how much I love Freya.
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“You’re checking out on her emotionally, aren’t you?” Viggo asks. “You’re keeping all your shit to yourself, stonewalling her. You know that’s a relationship death sentence, right?” That hits too close to home. “I’m working on it,” I mutter. “No, I think you’re working on everything but that,” Viggo says.
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“I’m making an ‘effort,’” I fire back. “But I have only so many hours, so much brain space, so much emotional bandwidth. For a short time, I’ve directed that to financial success and work, okay? I feel like I have to choose between supporting us so we can be ready for what Freya wants from me and giving Freya what she wants from me. One has to come before the other.”
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“I’ve realized the way I’ve been working in order to provide for us makes her miserable, but she wants a family, and this was necessary. I thought I could just bite that bullet and crank it out quickly, then we’d be okay. But that backfired and I hate that. Because this is all for her happiness. All I’ve ever wanted is to protect her happiness.” “And what about your happiness?” Viggo asks. “Does working like this make you happy?” “Happy? Fuck, I’m just trying to survive.” The truth lurches out of me, and God, what I’d give to wrench it back.
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“Survive?” Oliver sets his hand on my shoulder. “Aiden, what do you mean? You have a great job. Freya does, too. You’re both healthy, with a roof over your heads—” “You don’t get it,” I say, shooting up from my chair, my lungs heaving. “Y-y-you don’t understand the pressure, the-the weight of this. I didn’t grow up with a dad like yours. I didn’t have one. My mom cleaned houses all day. I went to school, got myself home, made myself dinner, did my homework. Mom came home, tucked me in, then went to work the late shift at the twenty-four-hour diner, had our neighbor across the hall keep an ear ...more
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“I don’t want your pity or your concern or your goddamn meddling. I just need you to understand what I’m up against: I have anxiety. I am a world-class catastrophizer. But I’m also ambitious as hell and determined not to let that hurt the woman I love. “I’m busting my ass right now because I don’t have the safety net you all have to catch me if I fall. I never have. Freya deserves better than that. She deserves solidity and safety, especially if we’re going to be parents. I can’t compromise on that. My wife and future kids will have what my mother and I didn’t. Money in the bank and absolute ...more
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“Aiden,” Ren says quietly. He stands and sets a hand on my shoulder. “You’re right. We have no concept of what it was like to grow up how you did, no understanding of how that affects you emotionally. But, Aiden, that family? That safety net? You have it already.” Oliver stands, too, and pats me affectionately on the back. “You have us.” “It’s not the same,” I mutter. “No, man. Don’t buy that bullshit,” Viggo says, slapping his book on the table. “This idea that you’re all on your own, that your financial success or failure equates to your success or failure as a man. It’s seriously damaging, ...more
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LMFAOOO I LOVE HIMMM
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Viggo throws up his hands. “It’s true! Life’s hard enough without this brutal financial pressure society wields via toxic masculinity. It’s even harder for someone who fights the uphill battle with anxiety that Aiden does every fucking day.” He turns back to me. “No matter what life brings, no matter what hardship, you will be surrounded by people who love you and are ready to help you, Aiden. People who know you’ve done everything you can to make it. Struggling will never make you less of a man or less of a husband to Freya. Struggling means you’ve been brave. It means you’re showing up to ...more
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This is always how they talk, people who haven’t grown up like me. They think of their side of things—charitable solutions, how obviously generous they would be, should the worst happen, because Of course! That’s what family does! But they don’t understand what it is to feel helpless in a system that makes it so easy to fall through the cracks, what it feels like when the lights shut off and you have to scramble for resources, prove your desperation. They’ve never swiped their SNAP card to buy groceries and had it declined. They don’t understand that I’m not only protecting myself from ...more
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don’t isolate yourself from the people who love you. Don’t hide your problems from them. I love someone who’s spent a shit ton of therapy hours learning how to be vulnerable because the bridge between loving me and letting me in was almost entirely collapsed by her past pain. “You have a partner who wants to give you all of herself, who wants all of you, your struggles, included. Don’t squander that. Because if you keep that door shut and locked long enough, one day you’re going to open it, and then what?” I stare up at him, swallowing roughly. “There’s not going to be anyone on the other ...more
vale garcia
SLAY VIGGO
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Marriage is so often the end of the story in those feel-good movies, in the books Freya reads and then closes with a dreamy sigh, but in real life, marriage is the beginning. It starts off foreign and thrilling, a rollercoaster ride with your eyes shut, knowing dips and turns and plummeting drops are ahead, but never when or how they’re coming. And as you climb that first massive height, then feel the moment when everything changes, when it shifts to a wild, weightless drop, that’s when you learn marriage isn’t the final destination. It’s the ride itself, one moment smooth-sailing, the next, ...more
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And that’s my problem. I’ve exhausted myself trying, and nothing has come out. I’m. Not. Trying. Not anymore. I’ve asked. How are you? What’s up? Anything on your mind? How’s work? To which I got Fine. Nothing. Just work. Busy.
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I made the list because whereas I’m a feeler, Aiden is a thinker, and I’ve always internalized this pressure in our relationship to handle my emotions more like him. To be “reasonable” when I’m upset. To be “rational” when we argue. Because I want my perspective to be taken seriously, and when I sound cerebral, Aiden seems to listen. If I sound calmer than I feel, I don’t risk triggering Aiden’s anxiety beyond the point that he can actually hear me out. Sure, it works, but it’s a lie. It’s not how I tick. The real me cries and speaks when her feelings aren’t tidy but instead a messy mix of ...more
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I can taste his anxiety in the air, sharp and painful, pressing in on him. Not that he’s told me. Not that I know lately where his anxiety is, or what’s troubling him. The past few months, when I suspected he was having a tough time, he’d smile, falsely bright, then say he had work and disappear into our little home office. The room that’s supposed to become a nursery. I wonder if…I wonder if things have been hard—harder than usual—and he hasn’t told me. And if so, why? If so much of what’s been distant between us is because he’s carrying burdens he doesn’t want to share, how could I ever ...more
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“Are you cheating on me?” I whisper hoarsely. “Is there someone else?” Aiden’s body goes deathly still. He grips my chin, turning my face to meet his expression which darkens like a violent storm blackening the sky. “How could you even ask me that?” His voice cracks, and a muscle jumps in his jaw.
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“Of course I’m not cheating on you, Freya!” He leans in, and I shrink back, but our fronts still brush, heat pouring off of him, the hard planes of his body sweeping against the soft curves of mine. “You think I could ever want anyone but you?” A tear slips down my cheek. I used to be able to answer that unequivocally. “I don’t know.” His brow furrows, pain tightening his face. “Freya, I love you. I want you. Only you. You’re the only woman I notice or desire, and if you think it’s escaped me that I haven’t had you beneath me, that I haven’t been inside you, making you come, in months, you’re ...more
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How am I supposed to know? I don’t recognize you, Aiden! You’re distracted. You’re secretive. You don’t tell me what’s on your mind, what’s on your plate. How do I know nothing else has changed?”
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“That’s not fair,” he says sharply. “Work is for us. Work is how I love you—” He breaks off, staring at the floor. “I didn’t…I don’t mean that exactly. Work is one of the ways that I show you that I love you. By working hard, so we’re protected, so we’re financially secure.” I sigh and drop to the mattress. This conversation. Again. Aiden grew up in extreme poverty. A single mom who struggled to make ends meet. A dad who split when Aiden was a toddler. And I understand this, abstractly at least: poverty is traumatic. Aiden’s worries about money—his exacting need to have all the bills in an ...more
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Forgive me for feeling a bit of relief that you’re not pregnant while on the brink of leaving me. Forgive me that I’d like shit figured out before we have a baby in the mix—” “Because it always has to be figured out, before—God forbid!—we do something out of passion or desire or love. Fuck’s sake, Aiden!”
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“Freya,” he calls, following me through the foyer, “don’t walk out on me. Stay and fight. That’s what we do. That’s what we’ve always done.” I freeze, my hand hovering over the door handle. Peering over my shoulder, I meet his eyes. “You’re right. We used to. But then you quit. Now I’m quitting, too.” “Freya!” I drag the door shut and yell over my shoulder, “Don’t. Follow me.”
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And I knew if I came home and had your cardamom-infused coffee, the kladdkaka cake that you know I love, I would have bawled my eyes out and told you everything. And I’m not telling her shit. Because we’ve set a date for this anniversary getaway vacation. The one week that worked with everyone’s schedule—mostly to fit around Willa’s soccer career and my dad’s ability to get away from his patients—is a nauseating, all-too-soon one week away. I’m not monopolizing my mom’s emotional energy with concern for my marriage this close to her getaway. And I’m certainly not ruining her vacation with it, ...more
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Then there’s planning for a trip which involves changes in routine, new environments, and additional expense—which exacerbates Aiden’s anxiety.
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“Marriages have their ups and downs, of course,” she says, eyes returning to the rack ahead of me. “Your father’s and mine certainly has.” I tell my heart to stop trying to pound out of my chest. “Really? You guys have never seemed anything but…perfect.” “Sometimes, Freya, we see what we want to see rather than what’s really there. Your papa and I have struggled. But we’ve tried to handle it in ways that are appropriate for our children. And through our struggles, we’ve learned how to do better. You see the fruit of that labor.”
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“Hm,” Mom says, lifting a sexy black two-piece and holding it toward my body. “This one has you written all over it, Freya. What do you think?” I open my mouth to answer, but before I can, a saleswoman gathering tried-on clothes from the rack outside the changing rooms says, “Oh, that’ll look beautiful on you.” She says it to my mom. My mom who has Claudia Schiffer’s looks—long and lean, wide eyes and dramatic cheekbones. While I have my mother’s pale eyes and bone structure, her light blonde hair, and the faintest gap between my front teeth, I am absolutely my father’s side of the family from ...more
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Even with increased portrayal of diverse bodies, even with the fact that lingerie and swimsuit shops now feature curvy models working their merchandise, this still happens all the time. Those offhand comments and reminders that people just can’t wrap their heads around the fact that I can be full-figured and actually not want to cover myself up. The concept that “someone like me” could wear a two-piece is apparently revolutionary. If I wear something that no one would think twice about a skinny person wearing, it automatically makes me a body-positivity warrior, instead of just a woman wearing ...more
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“This,” my mother says icily, “is for my daughter.” The saleswoman falters, her eyes switching to me, before taking a long sweep of my body. She blinks a few times. “Oh!” she says, nervously. Her cheeks pink. “Silly me. I didn’t think we stocked that in her size.” “What?” my mom says. Her voice is subzero. The saleswoman’s color drains faster than I can mutter Oh shit under my breath, because I might be a mama bear, but I learned it from the best, and I’ve got nothing on her. The sight of Elin Bergman provoked when she sees one of her children threatened scares me, and I’m the one she’s ...more
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My mother is cool and calm as ever, but she has subtle ways for messing with people when they piss her off. Americans can’t stand when people speak in different languages around them. It betrays our intrinsic egoism—we’re always convinced it’s about us. The irony, of course, is that Mom plays right into it. “Mom, I don’t have ti...
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It’s my mom’s favorite boutique. Not too fancy or pricey, just locally owned and stylish. Now that we’re out of earshot, I switch to English. “But you love that place.” Mom links our hands together. “I did. Until that. No one makes my beautiful Freya feel like she’s anything less.”
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<3333
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Opening your mouth would be a great solution, too. Easier said than done. I’m hoping an expert will help me figure out how to do it. Because I don’t know how to confess all of this to Freya, how to tell her all my fears and inadequacies and trust that won’t send her packing or giving up before we’ve even started.
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I know I’m not acting like the person I was when I married Freya. To her, I’ve always been Aiden: ordered, diligent, attentive. Now I’m chaos and pinballing, work-obsessed, and despicably distracted. I feel so fucking broken. And I’m terrified to be broken before my wife.
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My hands itch to do it—touch the line of her jaw, stroke her smooth, warm skin, and bring her soft mouth to mine. Because touch has always bound us together. But that’s part of our problem. Even the familiar, loving touch that said so much when I struggled to, not even that knits us together anymore. We’re far past hugging and making up. I know that now.
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“Over the past…six months, I guess, I’ve felt a shift in our marriage, like our connection has been sand slipping through my fingers and no matter how hard I grasped, I couldn’t stop losing it. I tried to ask Aiden what was going on, but he’s been evasive. And I just felt…defeated. So I asked for space, because I couldn’t stand going through the motions anymore. “If you had asked me when we got married if I could ever see our communication having so fundamentally broken down, that I would be this numb and hopeless, that Aiden could be disengaged and blindsided by my feelings, I would have ...more
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My worst fears are confirmed—all my attempts to keep to myself the worst of my anxiety symptoms, to push and grind through this stressful season, to hide how deeply it was affecting me and shield Freya, has epically backfired. But it’s not just your anxiety, that voice in my head whispers. It’s what anxiety’s done to your body. To your love life. And you’re too proud to admit it.
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“Well, the past few months, while things became…strained between us, my anxiety’s often been high.” I thought I could fix it before she noticed, before she started asking questions and pushing me for answers. I’d managed my anxiety and accompanying symptoms better in the past. I could do it again. I just had to try harder. Fight it harder. Work out. Eat well. Exercise. Keep my sleep schedule. Breathe deep. Meditate on the drive in to work— Yeah, which went so well when you had that panic attack and had to pull over.
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“What’s been elevating your anxiety?” Sweat creeps over my skin, and my heart pounds harder. “Well, I’m pretty driven at work, trying to solidify my place in the department but I’m also working on developing a business opportunity that will keep us financially secure. And yes, I’m pursuing it, in part, to assuage my money worries, but also because it’s simply responsible. It’s the right thing to do for my family. Problem is, the risks and possible failure my work presents often trigger my anxiety, so it’s sort of a vicious cycle. Then, when it’s this bad, it makes…” Fess up. Say it. Tell her ...more
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I know I’ve kept more from her than I ever wanted to, well aware that honesty is gold and communication is key. But God, have I had my reasons. Because I know my wife. If I told Freya about my problem, I know exactly what she’d do. She’d shelve her plans, dim her hopes. Go back on the pill, reassure me we could defer pregnancy… Silently, it would crush her. And I’m not in the business of crushing my wife.
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Why did you feel unable to tell Freya your anxiety is acute right now, that it’s having an impact on your sex life?” I meet Freya’s eyes. “I didn’t want to burden her. Freya already supports me so much. I just…I tried to focus on taking care of it, rather than placing more on her shoulders.” “You could have told her and been working on it,” Dr. Dietrich says. And thick silence hangs in the room. But then I would have had to admit…everything. What anxiety was doing to my body, how far it was taking me from her. “I think…” I clear my throat roughly. “I think I was scared to admit it to myself, ...more
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There’s a lie we’ve been told in our culture that our romantic partner’s attunement to our emotions and thoughts should be nearly psychic, and that is the barometer of our intimacy. If we feel like they aren’t ‘getting’ us, we reason that we’ve stopped having that magical intimate connection. “But that’s not the case. The truth is that we change and grow significantly in our adult years, and to stay close with a committed partner, we have to keep learning them, examining if our growth is compatible or divergent. However, we can’t know that until we take action to understand our partner, ...more
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Obviously we’ve changed since we were in our twenties.” “And perhaps your patterns for practicing and cultivating intimacy haven’t changed with you,” Dr. Dietrich says. “Haven’t accommodated your dreams and your desires, your mental health and your emotional needs.”
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“But isn’t intimacy just…there…or not?” Freya asks after a moment’s silence. “As long as you’re still both committed to each other, it should be there, right?” “Oh, goodness, no.” Dr. Dietrich sips her tea, then glances between us. “Intimacy isn’t intuition. It isn’t even familiarity. Intimacy is work. Sometimes it’s happy work, like picking sun-ripened apples that drop effortlessly from the tree, and other times, it’s like foraging for truffle mushrooms—down on your knees, messy, inefficient; it takes digging up dirt and perhaps coming up empty on your first attempt, before you find the ...more
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“Jesus, Aiden, I’m thinking.” “You have to think about what you admire my conviction for?” “Pipe down there, big guy,” Dr. Dietrich says.
vale garcia
LMFAOOO
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“I love his conviction,” Freya blurts, “about making the most of everything life gives him. He savors life’s simple gifts, wrings every drop of meaning and opportunity from them, then he brings that conviction to his students, to his work…” Her voice falters. “To us. At least he did. Now can you please pick a spot before I slip a disc?” My heart sinks in my chest. God, how badly I’ve messed this up. All of this has been for her, and all I’ve done is made her feel like my last priority.
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“One thing you love about your wife.” “She lives out her love, so you can’t help but feel it. The moment I knew Freya loved me, I knew it. I didn’t have to guess. We hadn’t been dating too long. I came down with the flu and she stayed with me even when I was contagious. When I was finally not delirious and begging to die—yes, I am a man-child when sick—I asked her what she was doing, risking herself in staying with me. She just smoothed back my hair and said, ‘I wouldn’t be anywhere else.’” I swallow roughly, glancing over to Freya. Her head hangs. She’s sniffling. “I looked into her eyes, and ...more
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“Freya, I’m concerned that you just apologized for crying. I’m proud of you for doing that. Feeling our feelings is brave and healthy.”
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“Freya,” I whisper, “I always want to know what you’re feeling.” “That’s rich, coming from you,” she says through tears. “Because I’m the one with anxiety, not you! You don’t need to carry all that I carry mentally, too. I’m trying to make adjustments to make it fair.” “Ah.” Dr. Dietrich lifts her hand. “About that word, fair…the idea of ‘fair’ in a marriage, any relationship, I mean it’s impossible. No marriage is fair. It’s complementary. The idea of ‘fair’ is absurd at best, ableist at worst.”
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“Ableist?” Freya asks. “Ableist,” Dr. Dietrich says. “Because saying a relationship has to be ‘fair’ implies only a certain balance and distribution of skills and aptitudes is valid. It upholds an arbitrary, damaging idea of ‘normal’ or ‘standard’ as requisite for fulfilling partnership. When in reality, all you need is two people who love what the other brings and share the work of love and life together.”
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“Aiden, you’re trying to shield Freya from emotionally carrying ‘more’ than you think she should. Freya, you’re avoiding honesty about feelings and thoughts that you think might make Aiden feel ‘more’ than you think he should. It’s well intentioned, both of you, but it’s a terrible idea. And lots of couples do it. Even after, Freya, you vowed to love all of him, and, Aiden, you vowed to give her all of yourself.” Freya blinks up at me, her eyes wet. I stare at her, wanting so badly to hold her and kiss her tears away. “Freya’s just been trying to protect me,” I tell Dr. Dietrich, my eyes not ...more