Then came the email from my assistant.
Your new patient, Blue Ivanov, is confirmed for 9:00 a.m.
A name shouldn't raise tension in my chest. It shouldn't tilt the rhythm of my thoughts. Yet something about the girl described to me carries the sharp gleam of a blade no one sees until it's too late.
It's just because I don't have enough information on her.
This is why I don't take patients unless the hospital refers them.
When my previous client's mother called, begging me to help, I couldn't say no. Kora Ivanov's a brilliant attorney. She found a way to get me out of my non-compete with the hospital while convincing them to send their outpatient referrals to me. It allowed me to have my own practice and get out of their bureaucracy without losing my pension. So I couldn't tell her I wouldn't work with her other family member in need.
My phone buzzes, and Shirley's voice interjects, "Your nine is here."
"Thank you," I say, rise, and open the door to the waiting room.
Blue sits on the sofa across from the window, legs crossed, back straight, eyes fixed on a spot on the floor in front of her as though she is studying invisible debris only she can see. For a moment, all I register is color. Her bright blue hair cascades in loose waves around her shoulders, not subtle or shy. It's intentional, a declaration, and demands attention without asking permission. It's impossible to overlook.
Before I introduce myself, she lifts her head. Her icy-blue eyes catch mine, and something quiet but unyielding moves between us.
The stillness before a storm shifts direction.
I study her, taking in eyes far too clear to match the fragile posture she's arranged herself in. Her pupils are too steady, the color so vivid it borders on impossible. They track the shape of me with the kind of concentration usually reserved for something forbidden.
A flicker of tension coils along the center of my chest, the kind I haven't encountered in years. Her eyes don't match her presentation, and the contradiction throws my instincts off-balance.
She rises, slow, graceful, deliberate. She crafted her body with precision. Every line of her curves is framed by clothing chosen with strategy. Her fitted top in powder blue tucked into a short, pleated skirt, dainty jewelry, and nails painted the same electric shade as her hair, screams deliberate. She stands with the confidence of someone who knows she's beautiful and has long studied how her presence impacts a room.
It's not what I expected. She's far more explosive beneath the surface.
Something sharp ignites behind my sternum, and without meaning to, I prioritize her above every patient I've taken on in the last decade. She becomes the puzzle I'm suddenly, disturbingly hungry to decode. I extend my hand. "Blue?"
She steps closer than necessary when she takes it.
A current runs up my arm, unexpected, unwelcome, disorienting. It's a sudden burst of charged awareness, like my nerves have recalibrated themselves without consent.
Her lips tilt. "Dr. Mercer," she says, voice gentle, almost whisper-soft. "I wasn't sure if your pictures online did you justice, but they don't."
The comment is wildly inappropriate, yet her delivery is so smooth, it almost passes as innocent admiration.Almost.
I withdraw my hand slower than I should. "Let's go inside."
A tiny curl forms on her lips. She walks past me, her warm and sweet scent a blend I can't name but digging into me. I catch myself tracking it longer than necessary.
Cut it out.
She enters the office like she's memorizing it, eyes trailing along the bookshelves, the framed degrees, the antique hourglass on the corner table, the navy leather chairs, and she finally settles on the arrangement of pens on my desk.
I stay silent, taking her in.
She turns and watches me, waiting for my response.
Another test.
I motion to the chair opposite mine. "Have a seat."
She lowers herself elegantly, crossing her legs in a rhythm engineered to draw attention. The hem of her skirt shifts a fraction higher. She doesn't adjust it.
I sit across from her, spine straight, hands relaxed. I keep my tone calm. "Before we begin, I want to acknowledge that starting therapy can come with complicated emotions. You may be nervous, frustrated, confused, or all of the above. Whatever arises, we'll work with it."
