Page 120

“A little,” I say, mentally awarding myself a trophy for my level of restraint.

She nods. Then her brows knit again.

“Do you think you’re deserving of love, Britney?”

“This feels like one of those trick questions where I say yes but then you tell me I actually don’t.”

She chuckles. “No tricks here, promise. I just wanted to ask.”

“I mean, I guess so?”

“Specifically, romantic love.”

“Well, never had it,” I shrug. “But…sure.”

Dr. Fallon nods and then points to my hoodie. I glance down at it and smirk at the image of the screaming raccoon and the words “First of all, I’m a delight”.

“You’ve worn that over here a few times.”

I shrug again. “Probably. It’s one of my favorites.”

She smiles. “I know you wear it to be ironic. But you are, you know.”

I frown. “A raccoon?”

She chuckles. “A delight.”

My brows hit the ceiling. “Yeah, I’m gonna stop you right⁠—”

“Elements of shock, momentary sensations of terror, and late-night wakeups and physical restraint aside,” she smiles, “I truly enjoy our conversations and our time together.”

I wink. “Got a thing for being tied up, doc?”

She smiles. “Not by you.”

“Doctor Fallon!” I hoot. “Get your freak on, girl!”

She chuckles before she takes a slow breath.

“Besides him being, as you put, a prickish control freak with a giant stick up his butt⁠—”

“Up his ass,” I correct her. “But go on.”

“My mistake. Aside from that, though, what’s he like?”

I make a face. “Hot. Like, unreasonably hot.”

Dr. Fallon chuckles. “I suppose that's a nice perk. But what’s he like?”

I glower as I chew on my bottom lip. Then I groan out an exhale.

“He’s like me,” I finally mutter. “He’s a lot like me.”

I don’t miss the flicker of alarm in her eyes.

I mean, there are only so many times you can tell your therapist that the story about cutting off some pedo’s dick, super gluing it to his forehead, and making him sing “I’m a bad little pedicorn” while dodging throwing axes was metaphorical before she starts connecting a few dots.

But she appears to let it go.