A warm hand settles on my forearm. “Ian, is everything okay?”
My gaze finds Pamela again. “You’re a therapist, right?”
Tilting her head to the side, her eyes narrow slightly before cautiously affirming, “I am.”
“I need to hire you.”
Her eyebrows jump in shock. “Taking on someone I know personally is highly unethical.”
My heart beats wildly, anxiousness taking over. I’m not above begging. “Pamela, please.”
She shakes her head sadly as her face morphs into asympathetic look that breaks me even further. “I can refer you to someone.”
“No!” The word comes out so forcefully, it jolts us both. “Pamela, please. You’re Nate’s sister. I trust Nate with my life. And you’re an extension of him. I can’t trust anyone else. I’venevertrusted anyone else. But I need help.” I take a small step closer. “I needyouto help me.”
She gnaws on her bottom lip as she regards me. I should probably worry about her judging my outburst, but I’m too far gone.
“I’m assuming something happened today?”
My jaw muscles clench before I give her a curt nod.
“One session.” My exhale of relief is audible. “You aren’t paying me.”
I try to argue, but she holds up a hand to stop me.
“And I’m not acting as a therapist. This is simply two friends talking in my office.”
As much as I want to compensate her, I know she’s doing me a huge favor. “Understood.”
She tells me an address. “That’s my office. Let’s go there.”
My eyes bore into hers. “Thank you, Pamela. This means more to me than you know.”
Almost all ofthe walls in Pamela’s office are covered with bookshelves. Each one is filled with a mix of books and decorative items. The lighting is dim, creating a cozy atmosphere as I drop onto the couch. Pamela grabs a notebook and pen from her desk before settling into the chair facing me.
She taps her pen a few times on her notebook whilestaring at me, as if trying to solve a puzzle. “You’ve never gone to therapy before?”
Even though it’s a question, she already knows the answer. “I have not.”
“But you think you need it?”
I incline my head. “I know I need it. But it isn’t easy for a guy like me to admit he needs therapy.”
Her nod is slow but understanding. “Do you want to start with what happened today?”
My stomach clenches. The pain with Maggie is too fresh. Maybe talking about the things that made her decide I wasn’t the person for her will help ease that pain, too. “No.”
“What would you like to talk about?”
I inhale and exhale once before asking, “Should we start with how my father killed my mother right in front of me and I couldn’t stop him, or how I made a decision that got four of my best friends killed?”
The side of the pen presses into Pamela’s lips as she stares at me, her face devoid of any reaction. The hand holding the pen drops to the notepad in her lap. “Let me call my husband and tell him I’ll be late.”
8
Maggie
One month later - August
