Page 103 of Three Pucks and a Baby

Turning back, I gave her an apologetic smile. “Thanks for offering.”

“Anytime,” she replied with a wink.

Warmth spread through my chest at her response. I then turned and followed Dr. Zeller into the office. Once we got inside, Dr. Zeller motioned to the chair in front of a large, mahogany desk. “Please have a seat.”

Glancing around, I mused, “No couch?”

He smiled. “Too many people nodding off.”

“Makes sense.”

After I eased into my chair, I noticed several hockey trophies on his shelf. Motioning to them, I asked, “Where did you play?”

“Dartmouth for college, and then for the Bruins for a season.”

“Holy shit, seriously?”

Nodding, Dr. Zeller replied, “One of the most amazing years of my life.”

“Why just a season?” I asked.

“Blew out my knee.” With a wry smile, he said, “I suppose I should say another player blew it out for me with a low check.”

Wincing, I replied, “That fucking sucks.”

Dr. Zeller leaned back in his chair. “Yes, it certainly did.”

“Guess it makes sense that Coach Murano recommended you.”

“Over the years, Gus has sent many players to me.” After steepling his fingers, Dr. Zeller eyed me intently. “And why has he sent you?”

“My buddies gave me an ultimatum.”

“And what precipitated that request?”

Furrowing my brows, I asked, “Huh?”

The corners of Dr. Zeller’s lips quirked. “What actions of yours made them suggest therapy?”

I shifted in my seat. Nothing like going straight for the jugular. “It’s a long story.”

“We have an hour.” Cocking his brows, he added, “Well, at least for today.”

Clearing my throat, my mind spun with ways to get out of this. Maybe I could bullshit him for a bit with my fears about my post-secondary life. Or I could maybe throw him a little bone about my childhood.

“Or if you would prefer, we can just sit here and enjoy the quiet.”

“You’re shitting me.”

He laughed. “No. I’m not.” At my continued disbelief, he said, “This is your time and your dime.”

The old me probably would’ve appreciated the joke as well as taking him up on the offer. Instead, agitation thrummed throughme. “And how the hell am I going to fix my anger if I sit here on my ass?”

“Do you want to fix it?”

With a roll of my eyes, I replied, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“But it was an ultimatum, not your desire for healing that brought you here.”

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