“So," Dr. Morrison said, settling into his chair with his yellow legal pad. "How was your week?"
I'd learned he always started with this question, even when we both knew something specific was on my mind.
"Good. Better than usual, actually." I shifted on the couch, trying to find the right words. "Practice went well. My knee felt strong. No panic attacks during drills."
"That's excellent progress." He made a note. "What else?"
And there it was. The real question.
I'd been seeing Dr. Morrison long enough to know he could read me like a book. The way I was fidgeting with my phone. The half-smile I couldn't quite suppress. The fact that I'd shown up fifteen minutes early and spent the entire time in the waiting room grinning at my phone like an idiot.
"I think I'm falling for someone," I admitted.
Dr. Morrison's pen paused mid-stroke. "That's... unexpected. Tell me about her."
"She's my teammate's little sister." I ran a hand through my hair. "Which is already complicated. But it's more than that. She's... she gets it. The injury stuff. The identity crisis. All of it."
"Because she's been through something similar?"
"Hip replacement at seventeen. Ended her ballet career before it really started." I leaned forward, the words coming faster now. "She was supposed to audition for companies thisyear. Instead, she's doing Pilates and teaching me how to not fall apart during recovery."
"And you have feelings for her."
It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway. "Yeah. I do."
"How long have you felt this way?"
I thought about it. Really thought about it. "Honestly? Since the first time she showed up at the hospital with those terrible cupcakes. But I didn't let myself acknowledge it until recently."
"Why not?"
"Because of Aaron. Because of the team. Because I didn't think I deserved to want something good when I was such a mess." I met his eyes. "Because my parents' marriage taught me that love is just people hurting each other with extra steps."
Dr. Morrison set down his pen. "Derek, we've talked about this. Your parents' relationship doesn't define what love has to be for you."
"I know. Logically, I know." I slumped back. "But it's hard to believe in something you've never actually seen work."
"What have you seen with Rosalie? In your interactions with her?"
I thought about the hours we'd spent together. Her showing up consistently, even when I was at my worst. The way she pushed me in Pilates, but knew exactly when to back off. How she'd made me laugh when I wanted to give up. The playlists she'd created just for me.
"I've seen someone who shows up. Who doesn't try to fix me but sits with me in the mess? Who makes me want to be better, not because I'm not good enough, but because she makes me believe I could be." My throat tightened. "She makes me feel like I'm more than just my injury. More than just soccer. Like I'm enough as I am."
"That sounds significant."
"It is. That's the problem." I stood up, needing to move. "Because I'm Aaron's best friend. And she's his little sister. And there are rules about this kind of thing. Bro code or whatever."
"Are there?" Dr. Morrison asked mildly. "Or are there just fears disguised as rules?"
I stopped pacing. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, 'bro code' is a convenient excuse. What you're really afraid of is risking both relationships. Your friendship with Aaron and your connection with Rosalie. You're afraid of choosing wrong and losing everything."
Damn. He was good at this.
"So what do I do?"
"What do you want to do?"
