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Because that’s not the understatement of the century. “I just don’t think you can help me. That’s all.”
She tilts her head slightly to the side. “You don’t think you’re capable of healing?”
No. “People heal in different ways, doc. Not everyone needs someone with a PhD to tell them how to do it.”
“Maybe so, but has anything else you’ve tried lately worked?”
The pills sitting in my car right now pop into my mind, and I instantly become more on edge than I was before, if that’s even possible. I stand up from the couch and start pacing the room, taking in everything while she watches me.
“I’m not saying I have some magical cure for life, Jace,” she tells me as my eyes rake over the multiple framed degrees on the wall. “I can’t take away your pain. What I can do, however, is provide you with the resources and the support to rid yourself of it on your own.”
It sounds like she’s reading straight from a textbook. Psychology 101. Besides, I know someone who can give me the resources I need to take away the pain. His name is Rinaldo, and he seems to be the only person who isn’t trying to keep me from the one thing that helps.
My gaze lands on a plaque sitting on the desk.
Dr. C. Litman.
I can’t help but smirk when I see it. “Your parents actually named you Clitman?”
She tries to remain neutral, but I can see the faint hint of a scowl. Jackpot. “It’s Dr. Litman. The c stands for Cassidy.”
“Oh, come on. They had to know naming you anything with a C would officially make your last name go from Litman to Clitman.”
It’s clear that everything I’m saying is getting to her as she balls her fist. “We’re not here to talk about my name or my parents. We’re here to talk about you.”
Yeah, I’d rather not. I turn and lean back against her desk, crossing my arms over my chest. “You know, I’m a bit of a clit man myself.”
“Jace.”
Biting my lip, I smile. “I say we spend the next hour doing something a little more fun than wasting our time talking about things that don’t matter.”
She places the notebook on the coffee table in front of her and stands. Her heels tap against the floor as she walks toward me. For a second, I think my distraction tactics may work. I mean, she’s not exactly my type, but if it means not having to talk about my feelings, I’ll suck it up.
Unfortunately, when she’s only a few inches from me, she reaches for something on the desk and presses it against my chest. It’s a picture frame. I grab it and pull it away, only to see a wedding photo of her and another woman.
“You’re a lesbian,” I murmur.
Of fucking course. Carter made sure she was hot, but my dad knows me better than to send me to a therapist I could seduce. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if being gay was a requirement for him.
“And happily married,” she confirms. “Now, if you think you’re the first guy to come in here and think he can distract me with blue eyes and a pretty-boy smile, you’re mistaken. I’ve been doing this long enough to know all the tricks. So, you can try them, but it’s not going to work. Your parents care enough about you to get you the help you need. Now maybe you might be willing to let them down by not trying, but I’m not.”
Dr. Litman walks over to the door and knocks on it twice before focusing back on me.
“I’m not sure what it is, but something traumatic has happened to you, and it’s eating you from the inside out. I’d like to stop it before it kills you, but I can’t do that alone.”
The secretary from earlier peeks her head into the door, and once again, she blushes as soon as she sees me. Her boss, however, isn’t amused.
“Hannah, schedule Mr. London’s next four appointments, please,” she instructs firmly. “His father paid in advance.”
Fuck my life. “And if I don’t show?”
Dr. Litman barely even acknowledges me before walking around and sitting at her desk. “That’s between you and him.”
WAKING UP THIS MORNING, I thought that the whole therapist thing
would be a one and done appointment. Apparently, I was wrong. So very fucking wrong. This one might have been cut short due to me pissing off the doctor in a record-breaking fifteen minutes, but that doesn’t mean I’ll get myself off the hook for the next. This woman clearly has no intentions of letting me get away with anything.
I slam my car door shut and push past the crowd of people hanging around in front of my dorm building. Ignoring all the assholes who try to get my attention, all because I drive a fancy car and have access to money, I make my way inside and up the stairs until I reach my door.
