“Bennett, I see you’re very agitated.”
“No, I’m not. I’m fine.” I run my hand through my hair, straighten my shoulders.
She picks up her pen again. “Your foot keeps bouncing. Your coloring’s increased, as has your rate of breathing.”
Damn. She’s got me.
“I told you — I don’t do therapy.”
“I see.”
She sits back, folding her hands calmly across her lap.
And waits.
The red minutes tick by.
I will not crack.
Won’t tell her I’ve taken hits from guys twice my size, but one arched brow from Tori Prince and I fucking fold.
More silence.
Finally, I mutter, “I don’t like talking about my feelings.”
“We don’t have to talk about feelings.”
I laugh, the sound jarring in the small space.
“Then what the hell do I talk about in here?”
“Whatever you want,” she says. “It’s your session.”
“So I can come in here and talk about the weather?”
Dr. Sparks nods. “If that’s what you want to talk about, sure. However, I don’t believe that would be in your personal best interest.” She tilts her head slightly. “I’m a sports psychologist and performance coach. I’m here to help you become the best version of yourself — athletically, professionally, and personally. I don’t think discussion of the weather would be the best use of our time together.”
I scoff. “I’m not sure how sitting on this couch for the next ten weeks is going to help my hockey game.”
“It’s a process, Bennett. You have to trust the process.”
“I don’thaveto trust anything.”
“Fair.” She doesn’t flinch. “The process is up to you.”
This entire thing is bullshit.
Dr. Sparks stays quiet, her gaze never faltering as the minutes crawl by.
“The only reason I’m here is because I love hockey,” I finally say. “I love my job. And I want to stay.”
She writes more on her pad, head bobbing as if she’s noting something critical.
“You love hockey, you love your job, and you want to stay with the team.” She echoes my words back to me. “Therefore, you’re willing to do the work required of you by the league.”
“I guess.”
“Our time is almost up for today.” She glances at the clock. “For homework this week, I’d like you to journal.”
