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“Too many times to count.” He pretends it’s cool, but there’s emotion lurking in those eyes the color of sea-foam on a stormy night that tells me it’s anything but. “Would you like to tell me what you were talking to Dr. Keller about?”
Oh my God, no. I don’t want to talk about my virginity or my brother with a complete stranger. Not even my mother. Even if he is a doctor. Even if he looks like…that. Even if he can be trusted. “I-I don’t recall.”
“Mmm, let’s see.” Dr. Keller picks up her notebook and glances through her notes. “We were—”
“Ivy.” Dr. West holds a hand out to silence Dr. Keller. “I want you to be comfortable with me. So if you’re not ready to talk to me, if all you want to do is sit in silence, we can do that for as long as you need.”
We settle into silence when Dr. Keller moves behind her desk. The tick, tock, tick, tock of the clock on the wall fills the silence in an almost comfortable way.
I study the dark haired man opposite me for a long time. His jaw is chiseled and covered in stubble. He looks like he’s in his late twenties. That’s young compared to most of the doctors around here. “How did you find your way into a profession where you have to listen to a lot of people talk about their issues?”
“Let’s say it was a calling.” He taps his fingertips on the leather arm of his chair and the sleeve cuff shifts to show a hint of ink on the golden skin at his wrist.
Rogue has tattoos. They cover his biceps and chest. I love them on him. I love running my lips over the solid black lines. I love the way he groans when my wet tongue glides over his hot skin. I wonder where the tattoos, hidden behind the fabric of the doctor’s shirt, begin and end.
He starts to hum. A familiar tune.
Taylor Swift’s “Wildest Dreams.”
It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. There’s no way he knows what I’m hiding, but that doesn’t help my paranoia. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight,” he says. “And you’re…?”
“Almost twenty-one.” I exhale like a dam has broken in my chest.
“You say that like you don’t think twenty is an acceptable age.” He leans back in his chair. “Is there a reason for that?”
“Not really.” I squeeze my elbow and glance out the window. The motorcycle is still there. Is it his? He looks like the kind of guy who might like fast and dangerous. That’s not me. I crave stability. Peace. A way out from under this mess I’m in. “I have control issues.”
“In what sense?”
“When you spend all your life thinking you’re something different than what you really are, how do you shed the layers you’ve built up to protect yourself so that you can connect with the people you care about?” Those layers are thick, not like an onion, but like a callous. Built up from years of being told that I’m weak and worthless. I used to believe the lies others told me. I echoed them until I was trapped in a web so thick I didn’t think I would ever get out. My metamorphosis started with drowning in a bathtub. It led to my relationship with Rogue. And strengthened with my decision to fight back against my brother. But until I come up with the perfect plan to nail Alec for his criminal behavior, I’m stuck.
“Can I be honest with you, Ivy?”
I nod.
“You don’t shed them,” he says. “You’re not a snake, Ivy Love. You are not a cold-blooded reptile. You are human. Your history is in your blood. It’s in every cell of your DNA. In your memories. It’s part of what makes you who you are.”
“Is this your normal advice?” I ask. He’s different from Dr. Keller. I can’t decide if that’s good or bad.
“Are you a normal patient, Ivy?” He smiles like we’re two people talking over coffee and not in the middle of a therapy session. Although I suppose for some people it might be the same thing. “You are more than likely always going to have to struggle to give up the autonomy that you weren’t afforded for so long, but you’re aware of your flaws. That is a positive. Choosing to share your flaws and let people in… it doesn’t need to be an all or nothing process. It’s okay to maintain your identity and your independence while leaning into a relationship. Being open with that other person helps them understand you better and forgive you more easily when you fuck up. Which you will if you’re as human as the rest of us.”
Dr. Keller gasps.
West chuckles. My curiosity gets the better of me. “Is that what you would do?”
“We’re not talking about me. And actually, we’re out of time.” He glances at his watch and rises to his feet. “But in most cases, communication is actually your best line of defense.”
“One more question?”
“Yes, Ivy?”
“That song you were whistling before. Do you know what it is?”
“I’m not sure. Just one of those earworms,” he says. “I’ll leave you to finish up with Dr. Keller.”
“Thanks, West.” Dr. Keller stands.
