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Counseling session tomorrow.

What was the point of that if Joey was going to write me off? I’d just cancel it. Piper wouldn’t like it, but⁠—

Another text popped in.

Piper:

No excuses, Kit. Show up and do the work.

Damn. I couldn’t avoid her by calling out again, either. I had patients who needed me. Monday was slow—with only one appointment that the other doc on staff could cover—but tomorrow I’d inconvenience too many people.

Kit:

Fine, but my situation has changed

Piper:

You can tell me all about it at our session tomorrow

Kit:

I thought therapy only worked if someone wanted to do it. Isn’t that what you always say?

Piper:

You took the first step and called me. I’m just helping you take the next one =)

Ugh. The smiley face just killed me. I couldn’t possibly continue to argue, and she knew it.

I stared at my phone screen for a few minutes, but I wasn’t really seeing Piper’s texts anymore. Maybe Dakota was right and I was giving up too easily. I should call Joey again.

I’d sent him a couple of texts—and last night I’d left a rambling, embarrassing voicemail—but maybe he needed to hear me beg.

It would only be fair.

I navigated to his name and hit the Call button. It rang once, twice⁠—

“Hey,” Joey said.

My breath caught. I’d been so sure he wouldn’t answer that I had no words. “H-hey. Hi. Is it okay that I called?”

“Yeah,” Joey said. “Actually, I’m outside your house.”

“What?” I lurched for the door and yanked it open. Joey stood on my porch, looking cute but tired in a pair of faded jeans and a dark green hoodie. It was too baggy to make out his shape, but I knew it by heart. My palms tingled with the urge to feel his skin.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

His words echoed on my phone speaker. I hit End Call and stepped back, swinging the door wider. Pogo attempted to lunge through the opening, sticking his nose directly into Joey’s crotch.

“Pogo, no.” I grabbed his collar, tugging him back to let Joey slip in.

“Aw, he’s okay.” Joey crouched down, giving Pogo a thorough rubdown. I loved my dog, I really did, but right then, I wanted to kick his furry ass out of the room. Joey was finally here, and Pogo was getting all the attention.

“You said you wanted to talk?” I prompted.

Joey looked up, his gaze clashing with mine. Then he frowned, scanning my appearance head to toe. I was suddenly painfully aware of the fact I hadn’t showered or changed in twenty-four hours. Cheeto dust stained my shirt, and my hair was probably sticking up in clumps.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, dragging a hand through my hair, then brushing at my shirt. “I’m a mess.”