Click-clack.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and tension digs its claws in my muscles as the pendulum swings back and forth, counting down the seconds.
I can feel a migrainecoming on.
My eyes bounce to the annoying thingon the shelf and back to her. She smirks like she knows I’m about ten seconds away from jumping off this couch and chucking that fucking thing against the wall.
I inch forward in my seat, my hands itching to grab that monstrosity.
“Don’t even think about it, Mr. Romero.” She smirks, knowing she broke me.
Fuck. I hate losing.
Click. Clack.
The metronome on the shelf keeps ticking.
“Let’s start with why you came today.”
Good question. Why the fuckdidI come here?
Talia. That’s why.
My damn baby sister convinced me it was time to talk my shit out and let things go. Talia thinks I need to forgive our sperm donor of a father, or some mushy crap like that, so I can move on and be happy.
Talia didn’t have to say the last part, but I know it’s what she and the rest of the women in my family think I need to do too.
I’ve been pushing therapy off for months, but now that Talia’s wedding is sooner than expected, she stopped taking no for an answer and scheduled this session with this hard ass of a therapist. And after our last family dinner, I think it’s time I talk to her too.
“I don’t know.” I dig my fingers into my thigh as the good doc sighs and scribbles something on her notepad.
Come on, dickhead, just spit it out.
Okay, so my sister is right. There are things I need to work through. Like my unwarranted hate towards her fiancé.
It began in college when we played baseball together at Southern California University. I was two years ahead of him and the starting catcher.
Cam walked on as a starting pitcher his freshman year with a 100mph fastball. The golden boy had it all. The arm, the looks, and the supportive dad.
I also thought he hooked up with a girl I sort of cared about. It wasn’t anything special, but I held onto the idea of her choosing him to keep on hating him.
After finishing college, we went our separate ways, each of us playing on Los Angeles’ cross-town rival teams, the Saints and the Evaders. After a few seasons with the Saints, the team traded me to the Evaders. I knew it would be hard playing with Cam again, especially after the way I badmouthed him to the media.
But when I learned about him and my sister, I lost it and punched him in the face and ribs after a game.
Reporters caught the entire showdown on camera. Not my finest hour. Luckily, I wasn’t fired, and since then—for my sister—I’ve gotten to know Cam better. He’s a good guy. He loves Talia, and she’s happy as fuck. That’s all I care about.
After talking with Talia, I know I only hated Cam because I was jealous.
It’s pathetic, really.
“If you are serious about working through your trauma, I need you to be honest. It will take time to heal, but it starts with the truth.” Doctor Lisbon clicks her pen.
Click-clack.
Trauma.Is that what they call daddy issues?
“Truthfully?” I arch a brow in her direction. She nods, and for some reason, the gesture feels reassuring. Like she won’t judge me for my answer. “Because my sister made me.”
