“Prince’s daughter. Tori.” My jaw flexes and I break eye contact, staring at the waves in the painting. Trying to get my nervous system back under control. “He moved me into the condo next to hers, and I’m on full twenty-four-seven supervision. Which sucks. I have a curfew, a whole bunch of stupid rules…”
And I can’t get her out of my mind.
“Tori Prince is your neighbor and she’s supervising you. Is that accurate?”
“Yes. But she’s extremely busy with her actual job — which she’s constantly reminding me about — so she hired two bodyguards to clock my every move.”
That gets the faintest tug of a smile from Dr. Sparks.
“So not only is Tori supervising you, you also have bodyguards.”
I nod.
“Yes. And it’s fucking annoying.”
“I hear that you’re frustrated with the situation. Tell me about that.”
What part of this is she not understanding? It’s pretty self-explanatory.
“I’m a professional hockey player. I don’t need two bodyguards watching my every move.”
And I certainly don’t need Tori supervising everything I say and do either… even if I don’t hate her being around.
Dr. Sparks sets her pen down, smoothing a hand over the silky navy fabric.
“When you talk about Tori, I notice you’re very animated.”
She’s got me there. That’s one way to put it.
“Because I’m pissed off.”
“So Tori’s presence pisses you off?” She echoes my phrasing back at me.
I swallow and stare just over her shoulder, refusing to meet her gaze.
Because that’s not exactly accurate.
“I mean, sure — being supervised pisses me off. By her or anyone. It’s kind of less about Tori, if I’m being honest.”
Dr. Sparks waits, her pen poised above the paper.
I tap my foot faster, wondering how much longer this is going to drag on.
“I don’t like being managed.”
“Do you have trouble following rules?”
“Not if they make sense.”
She scribbles more notes. “So rules are only a problem if they don’t make sense.”
“Yeah.”
“So this isn’t about Tori.”
“I would have a problem with anyone babysitting me.”
Dr. Sparks sets her notepad on her lap and locks eyes with me.
