Page 25 of The KING Review

Me:

I’m not.

I’m impressed. That’s different.

I’ve responded so quickly that I barely realize I’ve fallen into the double message trap again. It’s like she’s rubbing off on me.

My dick twitches at the idea of “rubbing” in the context of Neve Hart, and I groan, scrubbing a hand over my face. It’s been too long since I got any action. Fuck if I’d know what to do with a partner after all this time.

I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about that with Neve. Even though I know she’s probably thinking about that with me. She’s pretty well said as much.

She’s magnetic, and I’m weak, and probably a little selfish. I know I’m getting into something dangerous here, but I can’t seem to make myself stay away from her.

Chapter Nine

Self-Care isn’t Optional

Grant

The session starts normally. I’m still playing the boilerplate role of the man in an unsatisfying relationship, with a partner who may or may not be dangerous.

I’ve played the role before—it’s not the first time I’ve done these simulated sessions, obviously—and there’s a reason that we need to keep things consistent, that it makes sense to simulate continuous sessions with the same “patient,” but frankly… I can tell Neve is already getting a little bored. She obviously knows I’m reading from a script—as all the students do—but I get the feeling she’s losing patience with my answers, too.

I try to do a good job—I want to behave the way a patient would, which means a bit of avoidance. Most patients she’ll encounter will want to get better, or improve their situation, whatever—but a great many of them won’t want to shine a light inward, either. They especially won’t want to shine a light on potential spousal abuse.

I know I didn’t.

It’s weird to say that Neve can read my reactions at all, since she hasn’t known me that long. She’s been at Talan for about a month and a half, and this is only the third simulated therapy session. It’s been two weeks since she rushed out of our first session right after I put my foot in my mouth.

I think she imagines she was exactly who she warned me she was—exactly what it seems she’s always been told she is. Too much. It pisses me off, honestly. Sure, Neve Hart is… Well, she can definitely be a lot, but I’d never describe her as too much.

“And how has communication been this week?” Neve taps her pen on her pad, snapping me out of my thoughts. I lift my gaze to her, and her eyes are fixed on me.

I hesitate before I answer, looking over her slowly. She’s wearing athletic shorts, sneakers, and a fleece hoodie today. Her hair’s tied up in a ponytail with a ball cap shoved on over the top. Objectively, it’s nothing special; it could be argued she didn’t try at all.

She doesn’t have to. Not with me.

“Grant?”

My mouth parts. “Sorry. My mind was elsewhere.”

I frown to myself, and Neve frowns, too.

I know why I’m all over the place. It’s changeover day. I left Sera with Marie this morning—waved at her while they drove off, pretended not to watch until the speck of the car disappeared over the horizon line. Then I sat in my own car for ten minutes trying to psych myself up for the day I knew was going to suck.

It does suck. It always sucks.

“Hey.” Neve’s touch is gentle on my knee, but I jolt. She rips her hand away. “Sorry. You just… Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

I say it too quickly, and I know she’s going to pick up on it. Neve is too perceptive not to. It’s what’s going to make her exceptional at this job. She’s compassionate, and she pays attention, and I meant what I said to her—that it doesn’t surprise me a bit, but it impresses me a great deal. I have a hell of a lot of respect for this woman, even after only having known her for such a short period of time.

If I didn’t know she and Fia were related, it wouldn’t surprise me the tiniest bit. They have the same relentless drive, the same steel spine, and the same totalizing fierceness.

“Grant.” Neve’s voice is firm this time.

My gaze slices to hers. “I’m sorry. Sorry, really. I just—” I shake my head. “I’m having an off day. I’ll be all right.”