Page 10 of Unexpected Redemption

His reaction to the therapy topic has been mixed. I believe wholeheartedly that he’ll do it. I also know that if I don’t stay on top of him about it, he’ll procrastinate for as long as he can.

In a gentle whisper, I ask, “Why don’t you want to go to therapy, Tomer?”

It doesn’t take him long to offer an explanation. “Growing up, my father was... well, you know how he was. But he was extremely insistent that I act like a man. Don’t cry. Don’t show emotions. Shit like that.”

My gut sours. I hate that fucking man. I want to go up to South Carolina to piss all over his grave.

“And you think talking about feelings and stuff isn’t manly?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”His palm scrapes over his scalp punishingly. “All my life, I did everything I could to avoid feeling. Going to therapy is the opposite of that. Something about it seems... wrong.”

“Do you avoid experiencing your feelings for me?”

“I tried at first. But not anymore.”

“Does it seemwrongto love me?”

“No. It’s the rightest thing I’ve ever felt.”

I’m glad I’m reclined, or I’d swoon. As it is, a fluttering sensation tickles my windpipe and dances up my spine.

Returning to my point, I say, “If you can love me without discomfort, then experiencing feelings doesn’t have to be bad. You accept it as part of you. Maybe it can be that way with therapy too. Start slow. Find the right person to talk to and see how it goes.”

“That’s logical.” Almost immediately, his body language warms into acceptance. “However, I don’t want to go to Redleg’s psychologist.”

“What?” My eyeballs only do a half-cartoon stretch thing this time. “Redleg has a psychologist?”

“Yeah. Not in-house. She’s contracted. We all have to go once a year.”

“Only once? Wow.” My eyes roll around my head so sharply I get dizzy. “That surely fixesallproblems. Probably could cut it to once a decade.”

His laugh makes my nipples pebble. Being this close to him is firing up my horniness. Too bad this is such a great conversation. If I attack him tits first, he’ll stop talking. His mouth will be busy.

Dang it.Now I’m getting wet between my legs.

“It’s not ongoing therapy,” he clarifies. “It’s an annual evaluation. Think of it like a fitness for duty thing.”

“Oh, I see. Like a mental health check-in.”

“Right.” His relaxed exhale vibrates his lips adorably. “She’s been asking me to set up regular sessions for years now. I keep blowing her off because whenever we meet, I inevitably end up with nightmares that last for a few nights after.”

A sad sigh leaves him, traveling to my heart and squeezing it painfully.

I hate how he hurts because of his fucking father. Maybe later, I’ll check flight prices, and we can both piss on his grave. After we stop the mafia, of course.

“Nightmares like you had that night at my apartment a while ago?”

“Yes.” Tendrils of sorrow darken his tone.

“Do you want to tell me about the dream? Maybe it would help to get it out. No pressure, but if you want to talk about it, I’ll listen and hug you through it.”

“Sweet sugar bear.” He clicks his tongue, gazing at me with blatant adoration. “You’re the fresh air I never knew I needed to breathe.”

Messing with him a bit, I tease, “Fresh air?Pshaw. You can do better than that.”

“A challenge, huh?”

“Maybe we can save that for another time. I still haven’t recovered from how swoony you were the other day in my room at the shelter.”

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