Page 28 of Their Tracked Obsession

I wasn’t sure if Dr. Stevens’s psychological guidance irritated me or if it was the sound of him chewing, but I was pissed off.

“Look. Shrink. I’m not fucking defective.” My nostrils flared.

“No. You’re not flawed, Mr. Sullivan,” Dr. Stevens said.

Sin huffed. “Then what the fuck are you getting at?”

“Liv doesn’t require your help anymore with self-defense,” Dr. Stevens explained with his hands making gestures. “But it doesn’t mean she doesn’t need you.”

What in the actual fucking lousy medical advice was this horse shit? My eyes were crossing by the minute. I was so damn confused.

I felt as if I were a fucking Neanderthal.

“Okay. Cut to the damn chase,” I blurted out.

“Yeah, man, we trust you…” Sin heaved a sigh. “But your shrinky dinky do shit is screwing with us.”

“Okay. It’s simple. You need to help Liv in other ways like… Ah!” Dr. Stevens snapped his fingers. “You can both get more involved in the wedding planning.”

I glanced over at Sin and shrugged. “Yeah. We haven’t been doing anything for the ceremony. I guess we could?”

“Kinda a chick thing…” Sin raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think?”

“Nope. Doesn’t have to be. Men help their brides now too. Liv will appreciate the guidance, and this could even benefit your relationship with her,” Dr. Stevens replied.

“We’re listening.” I pulled the phone screen closer.

“You could grow closer. Stronger. More united,” he answered confidently.

Damn. The shrink spoke our love language. All we wanted was to be one with Liv. Fucking joined at the hips.

I thought about flower shopping with the intense smells making me sneeze. All those bright colors hurting my damn eyes and welling up with tears in the corners. A goddamn burn in my throat at the sudden onset of allergies at the idea, even though the blossoms weren’t real. I’d rather poke my eyeballs out and pierce my brain in the process than visit a florist, but I’d do it all for Liv. This made her happy, and I’d die to make her content.

“As much as I hate to admit, Liv has an appointment with a florist coming up.” I made a gagging sound.

“I guess some cake tasting wouldn’t hurt,” Sin mumbled, displeased.

“Might mess with your physique before the big day,” Dr. Stevens joked.

The shrink was the only one laughing, and we glared at him. I wanted to reach through the damn screen to strangle him. He might be a smart-ass, but his wise crack wasn’t helping. We were deadly serious as shit, and we wouldn’t tolerate anything standing in our way from tying the knot with Liv. Not even some extra weight gain.

Sin pushed the cell phone back. “Does it look like we need to fucking worry about that?”

My best friend opened his shirt to show off his pecks, giving them a bounce while I untucked my shirt and displayed tight abs. Chiseled to a T and every woman’s fucking dream body on a man. Except someone else had already claimed us. We belonged to Liv.

“What’s on the outside can’t hide the inside. Physical appearance is half the battle,” Dr. Stevens said.

Who was this guy? The newest dude to come up with a catchphrase? Mike, the situation on my favorite reality TV show, had him beat.

I yanked the phone out of Sin’s hand. “Enough with the mumbo jumbo. Be point-blank, or we’re finding a new shrink. Spit it out already.”

“Be there for your fiancée. Listen to her. Guide her when she washes astray. Be her anchor and help her to shore.”

“Give me that…” Sin took his phone back. “Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Okay. We get it now. Lend some fucking hands with the wedding and all the bullshit with it.”

“Exactly.” Dr. Stevens smiled. “But with more enthusiasm. You’ve got this, gentlemen. I have faith in you.”

At least someone does.