I turned back to the screen. Because I didn’t know what to say next. Because part of me wanted to askwhyhe did it. And the other part… didn’t want the answer.
“So… how do we do this?” he asked behind me.
“Do what?”
“Do I need to set up another appointment or something?”
I turned. Eyebrows raised. “You’ve decided to move forward with therapy?”
“My doctors decided that for me.”
“Perhaps I should rephrase that. You’re ready to continue? Now?”
A slight nod.
“With me? I mean—I know a lot of great therapists. Male. If that would feel more comfortable?—”
“Here’s fine.”
Notyou’refine.
Justhere’sfine.
Of course.
“Okay… well, another option would be to put it off a few more weeks, although?—”
“Now’s fine.”
What?I was shocked. Honestly, I hadn’t expected to seehim again—at least not voluntarily. And even more shocking?
The strange pulse of relief that bloomed in my chest at his return.
Because as much as he needed help—desperately—there was something about him I wasn’t ready to let go of, either.
“Okay then,” I said slowly.
“When’s your next open spot?”
I narrowed my eyes, testing him. “Let’s start now.”
He blinked. Like that wasn’t the answer he expected.
Although I’d only had one session with Phoenix Steele, I could already tell—he was in rare form today. Quiet. Cooperative. Even… submissive. Maybe it was a bruised ego. Or maybe he’d finally accepted that I was a key to getting his life back.
Whatever the reason, I knew this window—this moment of openness—wasn’t going to last.
“Right now?” he asked.
“Unless you have something else you need to get to?”
His gaze slid to the couch. His jaw ticked.
I’m losing him.
“Let’s start now,” I repeated quickly.
15
