Page 37 of Letters From A Stalker

If anything, he sounds genuinely curious, which somehow makes it worse.

I rub my lips together before answering. “Intellectually.”

“That wasn't what I asked.”

“See?” I gesture toward him with my phone. “This is why the homework you gave me has that title.”

A quiet laugh leaves him as he lowers his gaze for a moment, and the sound releases some of the pressure gathering beneath my ribs.

“I'm beginning to understand the methodology.” I offer.

“Good. I'd hate for my research to go unappreciated.”

For a few seconds, the room becomes easier again, and this time I recognize what I've done almost immediately. I’ve replaced discomfort with a joke. Something I always do when I need to relieve a situation that could potentially make me break when I don’t want to break. I stare at him.

Kai notices the change in my expression almost immediately, but instead of commenting on it, he waits. In that silent way of his that is becoming familiar, and somehow that’s worse.

I look down at my phone again, pretending to reread the note even though I know exactly what I wrote.

“I did it again,” I admit after a moment.

His voice softens slightly. “Made a joke?”

I nod, rubbing my thumb along the edge of the case. “The second it got uncomfortable.”

There’s no triumph in his expression when I raise my eyes to his, which I appreciate more than I want to admit. He just watches me for a moment, thoughtful rather than pleased with himself.

“And did it help?”

“Yeah.”

After a beat of silence, Kai explains. “Humor isn’t necessarily something you need to stop using. Sometimes it gives people enough distance from something painful to stay in the conversation instead of shutting down completely. What matters is whether you use that distance to come back to what you’re feeling or to make sure nobody gets close enough to see it.”

I look at him, putting my phone in-between my thigh and the armrest. “So sarcasm survives therapy.”

The corner of his mouth moves, but he doesn’t follow me into the joke. “I think your sarcasm is safe for now.”

“Good. I was starting to reconsider the entire arrangement.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His voice stays warm, but there’s a quiet finality underneath it that tells me we’re done with the subject.

Kai glances at his notes before looking at me again. “We’ve talked quite a bit about your father during these first two sessions.”

The change shouldn’t make anything inside me tighten and yet the sensation overpowers me.

“Occupational hazard of having a complicated dead parent.” I offer but again, he doesn’t take the bait.

Instead he rests the pen against his notepad and asks, “What about your mother?”

For a second I genuinely don’t understand the question. “What about her?”

“You’ve mentioned her in relation to your father’s affairs and what home was like growing up, but almost everything you’ve told me still revolves around him. I’m curious about your relationship with her.”

I shift in the chair and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “My mom and I are fine.”

The words are barely out before I hear them. Kai does too. Neither of us comments.

I let out a small, humorless laugh. “Okay, apparently that one is going to haunt me now.”