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LUCAS
Over the years, I have stepped into Lauren’s office more times than I can count. Sometimes willingly, but almost always with dread following me like a shadow. That dread has never been more overwhelming than today. Today. I feel like I’m the shadow.
Without knocking, I shove the door open and march in.
“You’re late.” Lauren scowls me like I’m a misbehaving child. She sits on her sofa, wearing a casual pale blue sweater and black slacks. Her legs are crossed, and a notebook is lying on her lap. Her brown hair is pulled into a neat bun, completing her textbook therapist look. “Good thing I freed up two hours of my afternoon for you.”
“Of course you did.” I flop down on the couch across from her, getting comfortable.
“I know my patients well, and you’ve had a lot to deal with over the last few days. Tell me how you feel about it all.”
“You know I don’t do that shit…feelings.” Lauren has been my therapist for many years, but we rarely talk about feelings, mostly because I don’t have any. At least not usually.
“Things have changed. You have never been emotionally responsible for another person.”
“I’m still not.”
“You are. Don’t downplay your relationship with Aspen, and don’t forget she is my patient as well. I need to consider her well-being too, and I will do so more than yours.”
“Harsh, but okay. I’m pretty sure that’s against some kind of doctor code, not to mention being extremely immoral.” I can hardly get the words out and keep a straight face. As if I care about morals.
“Lucas, everything I’m doing within these walls is against the law and extremely unethical.”
“Fair point, but you have known me for a very long time.”
“Which is exactly why Aspen is my priority. I barely like you.”
“Pffff. Lies. You love me. Why else would you have moved to Alaska with me?”
“I moved because you basically forced me to.”
“I prefer to look at it as giving you a nudge.”
“If getting me fired and packing up my apartment behind my back is a nudge to you, then maybe we need a three-hour session today.”
“An extra hour for fucking?”
“Lucas,” she warns, her cheeks turning a hue of pink. “We don’t do that anymore. I’m your therapist now; no more fucking.”
“But I do think busting a nut would be very beneficial to my mental health.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure you are very capable of busting a nut on your own.”
“Yeah, but having a woman involved is more fun.”
“Are you done trying to avoid talking about your feelings?”
“Never!” I huff, sinking back into Lauren’s leather couch and propping my feet onto her coffee table.
Lauren leans back, mimicking my movement. Then she simply waits for me to say something. Her patience is endless. I know because I’ve tested it extensively.
“I’m angry,” I finally say.
“That’s nothing new.” She is right about that.
My anger is the reason I started seeing her in the first place. I was tired of being so fucking angry all the time. Angry with my parents, my brother, the council, and angry at the world. Maybe that’s the only feeling I’m actually capable of.
“Yes, but this is different.”
