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She made it sound like I had a choice in any of this when the truth was everything here was mandated. But if she wanted to hear the boring details of my life, I was more than prepared to tell her.
“Okay. I’m nineteen, and I’m a professional footballer in the English Premier League. I was transferred to my team in January, and before that, I played in League Two.”
Dr. Weaver made a little note on her pad. “Tell me about your transfer and the adjustments you had to make.”
“Uh…” Leaning back, I took a minute to really think about it. Everything had happened so fast, and I’d never actually taken the time to sit and think about the adjustments I’d made. “I guess…I mean, it was a big change. There are three professional leagues below the Premier League, and I was in the lowest one. I went from playing in front of a few thousand people to tens of thousands, and millions more on TV. I was up against some of the biggest footballing legends in the world, so I guess…there was a lot of pressure to perform. It was stressful, but I love it.”
She hummed, scribbling something on her pad. “What about your relationship with your teammates? Did they welcome you?”
Surely she knew all about Theo—it was why I was here, after all, so I avoided mentioning him specifically. “They made me feel welcome. I get on well with most of them.”
Thankfully, she didn’t call me out, simply changing the subject. “I asked you to tell me a little about yourself, and you chose to focus on your recent career. Why don’t you tell me a little about your childhood?”
I told her about my life growing up with my dad, our Saturday afternoons spent watching football, and then my time at the youth academy—avoiding mentions of Theo. When I ran out of words, she smiled, climbing to her feet and crossing to her desk. When she returned to her chair, she held out a brown leather notebook.
“I’d like you to try an exercise before our next session. In this notebook, I’d like you to list the important people in your life and what makes them important to you. Important can mean both positive and negative, so I’d like you to include anyone that has an influence in your life in either a positive or negative way.”
Please don’t say I have to write about Theo fucking Lewin. “What, like good and bad people?”
“We don’t use ‘good’ or ‘bad’ to define people, but I would like you to include both positive and negative aspects. Write down everything you can think of, even if it’s something that you think is small.”
I took the notebook, glancing down at the smooth leather cover before I met her gaze again. “Will you be reading it?” I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Because if I had to include Theo, it wasn’t going to be complimentary.
“No, not unless you want me to, but I hope that we will be able to discuss some of the contents in our future sessions.”
“Okay. I’ll try.”
“That’s all I ask.”
Outside in the fresh air again, I slid my sunglasses on and headed in the direction of the path that led up to my villa. I’d done it. I’d survived my first therapy session, and I hadn’t even had to talk about why I was here. Somehow, I couldn’t imagine Theo’s first session going so smoothly.
When I reached the villa, the second bed was undisturbed, and the box and the envelope were still in the same position. It was weird. Don’t get me wrong, I was glad to postpone any interaction with Theo, but where the fuck was he?
13
THEO
The minute I’d opened my bag on the plane, I knew I was completely and utterly fucked.
I’d forgotten my sleeping pills. I distinctly remembered counting out the amount I needed to get me through my time away, and then I’d been distracted by a phone call from my agent. By the time the call ended, the taxi was waiting outside to take me to the airport, and in the ensuing rush, I’d forgotten to put the pills in my bag.
I’d been awake the entire flight, and when we arrived in Tahiti, I’d started feeling nauseous, and then the vomiting began. My throat was raw, I hadn’t slept, and I was fucking miserable. I had no clue where I was, other than in a sterile room with monitors and an IV drip attached to me.
A short, grey-haired man holding a tablet and wearing a lab coat entered the room. “Morning, Mr. Lewin. How are you feeling today?”
“Terrible,” I rasped. That much should have been obvious.
He left the room and returned a minute later, holding a paper cup brimming with water. “For your throat. Small sips.”
My bed had a remote control to raise and lower it, so I raised myself into a seated position, taking the cup and sipping from it. I’d stopped throwing up, but I was still nauseous, so I only allowed myself to drink a small amount.
When I’d placed the cup down on the table next to my bed, the grey-haired man pulled up a chair, eyeing me over the top of his tablet. “My name is Dr. Ross, and I’m one of the psychiatrists and medical doctors here at Black Diamond Recovery Centre. We weren’t aware of any medical issues prior to your arrival, so I need to ask you a few questions, if you’re feeling up to answering them. We have the medical information that your soccer club sent through to us, and as far as I can tell, you’re a perfectly healthy nineteen-year-old. Do you have any idea of what may be causing your symptoms?”
Yes.
Fuck. I bit down on my cracked lower lip. I was going to have to tell him, wasn’t I? If it was the pills, then he might be able to help me. Closing my eyes, I exhaled shakily. “I—I’ve been taking sleeping pills. I…forgot to bring them with me.”
“I see.” He scrolled on his tablet for a minute, scanning the screen before he met my gaze again. His eyes were knowing, but there was no judgement in them. “Are these the prescribed pills mentioned in your medical information?”
