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You have no idea who you are, the little piece of me that had been torn apart by all my legends and pieced together all broken and mismatched insisted.
I pasted a paper smile on my face and ignored my inner demons. “I’m a special agent for the Legends division of the FBI.”
“That’s not who you are. That’s what you are.”
I sighed.
“Can you drop the shrink act and just be my best friend right now? I need to process the fact that my best friend knows that I’m,” I lowered my voice despite the otherwise empty room, “a De Luca.”
Jenn snorted. “Everyone who knows you in your office knows you’re a De Luca, Ari.”
I sat up from the couch, alarmed.
She rolled her eyes. “They just don’t know that you’re one of those De Lucas.”
It was my turn to roll my eyes as I laid back down.
“I’d hardly call myself one of them. They don’t even know I exist.”
Thanks to my mom, who had done all she could to hide my existence until her dying breath.
“Fair enough. By the way, it’s not a shrink act. I actually am a shrink, something you seem to forget every time you step into this office.”
I laughed, latching onto her lighthearted words to shift the conversation. “Well, shrink, am I cleared for my next legend?”
I crossed my fingers behind my back, unsure whether I was hoping she would clear me or hoping she wouldn’t.
“Of course, Ari.”
I nodded, stood up, headed toward the door, and turned to face Jenn when I reached it. Thanks to my last legend, I hadn’t seen her in a while, so I took the time to observe her.
With blonde hair, a freckled face, and giant doe eyes, she looked too innocent for a job which required facing other people’s demons.
And I wondered, not for the first time, how she was my shrink despite the apparent conflict of interest. I figured that I should finally ask, just in case this legend was my last.
Pretty likely considering Bastian hated my guts and the whole De Luca thing.
“Not that I’m complaining,” I began, “but I’ve always wondered how you’re my shrink. I mean, everyone in the department knows we’re best friends. Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”
“After Emma Stevens retired, I’m the only psychologist in the region with the clearance to know you’re a legend.”
“Fair enough.”
I paused a beat, noticing the amount of weight she had lost while I was away.
It was slight, but I had always been one to pick up on details, and I cared enough to ask, “Are you alright, Jenn?”
“This job—our jobs—takes a toll on us. We age a lifetime in a year, and I’m supposed to help the agents process it, but sometimes I forget I need to process it, too.”
My fingers clutched the doorknob tighter. I understood what she meant, because I danced around the topics during my sessions, never digging deep into my problems—and there were so, so many problems.
I should have taken the time to unravel them and heal, but I could never bring myself to.
“I’m here for you. You know that? Say the word, and we can quit our jobs and run off to the Caribbean. You’d have to pay for it of course. I make less than a lemonade stand.”
Jenn laughed, closed her notebook, uncrossed her legs, and stood up. When she walked over to give me a hug, I let her, relaxing into the familiarity of our friendship—the longest one I had ever had with anyone.
“You’re always worrying about everyone else.” She gave me a sly grin that immediately had me wary. “You should worry about yourself, Ari.”
