“So, former student as in someone who’s college aged?”
I shook my head. “He’s in his early thirties now.”
“I see. Was he one of those… What did your husband call them?”
“Lost Boys.”
“That’s it. The Lost Boys,” she murmured as she scribbled a note on the screen.
A small grin tilted my lips. Robert would have loved the combination of psychology and technology. Then I remembered that he was the reason I was here, and the smile fled as quickly as it had arrived.
Focus, Ren.
“I think the last time I came in for a session, Beckett was about to open up the new Meeting House in Seguin on property that Robert had left to him.”
“Yes, that’s right. How was that?”
“It sucked, mostly,” I said.
“Did things not go as planned?”
I shook my head. “The celebration went off without a hitch. I just felt like I had to hide how sad I was.”
“Surely your friends and family would expect you to be at least a little sad. Especially given your husband’s ties to the land and the cause.”
“I know. But everyone else was so happy. They were emotional, they remembered Robert in some very lovely ways, but I felt so out of place. They all found joy in remembering my husband, and I was left sobbing in the car.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” she said, creasing her eyebrows in thought. “What happened after that?”
“Excellent question,” I said. “I was approached by one of his former students, Major. His business is on an adjacent tract of land—he’d purchased the property to help Beckett fund the Meeting House—and his grand opening was the same day.”
“So, this Major is deeply entwined with the group of people who knew your husband.”
“Very much so.”
“What happened?”
“He saw me crying and wouldn’t let me drive in that state,” I said.
“Sounds like a good friend.”
“A very good friend. He said he’d drive me home, or we could go into his office and sit for a while until I had calmed down.”
“What did you end up doing?”
“We sat in his office, and it was great, but… not.”
She tilted her head to the side. “What wasn’t great about it?”
I looked up at the ceiling, trying to find the words. “He’s a peaceful sort of guy, and I felt so fucking touch starved. Needy. When I started to cry again, he sat next to me and let me lay my head on his shoulder.”
“And?”
“I wasn’t thinking, or maybe my brain just went to Robert because they had a similar build? But I started touching him.”
When I fell silent, she prompted me to continue. “And how did he respond?”
“It turned him on, but he stopped me.”
