Instead, I shrug. “I dunno.Don’t miss the puck, I guess.”
Dr. Sparks presses her lips together, studying me over the rims of her glasses.
“You need to be honest with yourself, Bennett.”
My chest tightens as I stare at the non-descript beige swirls in the conference room carpet. A long silence stretches between us, the hotel AC humming softly in the background.
“Name it. Or it controls you.”
Heat flashes through me, sweat beading at my hairline.
Name it.
Lose control with me.
I shouldn’t admit this, shouldn’t say her name out loud. Not to someone employed by the team. Someone with a direct line to the owner, Tori’s fucking father.
“Tori.” The admission is quiet, barely above a whisper.
Dr. Sparks sets her pen down on the legal pad, lacing her slender fingers together.
“T.”
I nod, face flaming. “Yeah.”
“What about Tori has you distracted?”
“Fucking everything,” I mutter, lost in the spirals of the carpet.
Her smile. Her laugh. The way she locks her eyes on mine and doesn’t let go.
How she unravels underneath me, clawing at my skin.
My name falling from her lips, soft and reverent. Like a prayer.
The text this morning: We need better boundaries.
“We’re kind of in a…” I puff out a breath, too embarrassed to meet Dr. Sparks knowing gaze. “Situationship.”
Cheap label, even cheaper armor.
“Ah.” She shifts in her chair, twirling the pen in her fingers. “And that’s a distraction? A problem?”
“Yeah. Both.”
Dr. Sparks pauses, pen hovering above the legal pad. She sets the pen down.
“That’s not a distraction, Bennett. That’s attachment.”
My throat tightens, anxiety buzzing through my veins, worse than before a game.
She catches my eyes and holds them. “Attachment’s a risk for you. Why?”
I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste the tang of blood.
Because I fucking want more.
And that’s dangerous.
