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My gaze flicks to Kellan, who’s suddenly fascinated with the label on his beer bottle.
“What do you mean she quit therapy?” I ask Robyn on the phone. Disbelief and the residual anger from what happened two nights ago simmer beneath the question. I’m standing in the hallway of the house one of my crews is currently renovating, and I can feel their curiosity burning into my back.
I haven’t seen Jess in the past two days, the pain from our breakup too raw. Instead, I’ve avoided the office when I know she’s there. And Kellan has been avoiding me—or he’s been too busy to reply to my texts and phone calls.
I open the front door and step outside. The street is empty of cars and pedestrians, but the low hum of a lawn mower comes from the house several doors over. Far enough away the teen pushing it can’t hear me.
“She phoned this morning and told me that while she appreciates everything I’ve done for her, she’s ready to end our sessions.” Robyn’s frustration at the situation sits unguarded in her tone.
“Did she give a reason?”
“You know I can’t discuss that with you. I’m only telling you this because you were paying for them.”
I let my head fall back against the front door. “Can you at least tell me if it’s okay that she quits the sessions?”
“No. I can’t.”
“Okay. You can’t tell me as her therapist. But can you tell me as your friend?”
A long sigh comes through the phone line. “Alright, in my professional opinion, no, she’s not ready yet to quit seeing me. We were making progress, but she still has a ways to go.”
Shit. Then why the hell did she quit?
“Did she figure out I was paying for it?”
A crow lands on the grass a few yards from where I’m standing. It caws loud enough to wake the dead in the cemetery on the other side of town.
“No. But if I were you, I’d come clean about that.” Robyn’s tone is not that of a therapist but as the friend who whipped my ass in soccer in middle school.
“Because she has trust issues?”
“I can’t tell you that, Troy.”
“How about grunting it? One grunt, she has trust issues. Two grunts, she doesn’t.”
Robyn groans.
“So, she does have trust issues.”
“Hey, I wasn’t answering the question. I was just groaning because you haven’t changed since we were in school.”
She can’t see me, but I still grin. I always did know how to push her buttons. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She snorts.
Robyn doesn’t need to tell me Jess has trust issues. It’s obvious she does. “I know about the abusive husband,” I tell her. “And I know she was wrongfully convicted for his murder.”
“She mentioned she had told you all of that.” Robyn’s tone is back to professional therapist.
Great.
I can’t even get a firm read on Robyn to determine if there’s anything else she knows and I don’t. Not on the phone. Maybe if we were meeting in person, I’d have better luck with that.
“Look, as her therapist, I can’t tell you anything. But as your friend, I will tell you I’m concerned about her. I can tell she’s stressed about something, and I’m worried about her mental state. She’s come a long way since we’ve started the sessions, but she’s still…she’s still very fragile. I’m worried whatever is going on in her life will be too much, and she’ll regress. Regress hard.”
“She broke up with me on Sunday.” Just saying those words is a land mine to my heart. “Whatever is stressing her caused her to end our relationship. But she won’t tell me what it is.” She did tell me some bullshit, but I don’t buy it. There’s something else going on with her. But I’m afraid of pushing the wrong buttons and losing her permanently.
“She never mentioned that to me. I really don’t know what to say, Troy. She still has a long recovery ahead of her, and this will only set her back. She needs help, but she also needs to be willing to get it. And right now, it doesn’t sound like that’s the case.”
