Page 77 of Beautifully Broken Control

And wasn’t that a loaded question? So loaded, I wasn’t exactly sure how to begin its answer. “Kennedy was in an accident.”

The sounds of leather squeaking came across the line, and I saw Dr. Murphy in my mind, straightening in his chair behind the desk in his office. “Is she all right?”

“I’m watching her teach ballet to about a dozen six-year-olds right now.” She was more than all right. She was perfect.

Murphy sighed. “I’m glad to hear that. How’d you handle it?”

I thought about it for a moment. There had been bone-deep panic for sure, but I hadn’t lost it. I didn’t tear apart a hospital room or require sedation. I made sure that Kennedy was taken care of. Safe. I hadn’t thrown that damn bike into my lake, even though I still wanted to. I was showing restraint. Maybe I could do this. “I slept with her.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them.

Murphy chuckled. “Kennedy was in an accident, and you slept with her?”

I rubbed a hand over my jaw. “Not right after she was in the accident, like a week later.” It had probably been too soon, but I hadn’t been able to hold myself back from her. Not for a moment longer.

“Ah. That makes a bit more sense. And how is the relationship progressing?”

“We’re finding our way. I’m trying to compromise.” But I knew there would always be the cloud of my past hanging over us. Things I wouldn’t—no,couldn’t—talk about. “She wants to know why I am the way I am.”

“Why you’re fixated on her safety?”

“Yes.” I watched as Kennedy led a line of little girls and one little boy across the floor in a series of jumps. The sheer joy on all their faces was something to behold.

“And what did you tell her?”

I focused back on Murphy’s voice. “She knows I lost someone. I just can’t give her more. I can’t go there.” I squeezed the back of my neck. “And that makes me feel like a grade-A asshole because she’s shared some pretty personal stuff with me.”

Dr. Murphy was silent for a moment. “It may not feel like it. But this is progress.”

I grunted in response. Claiming my victories in this area had never been my strong suit. Maybe because I still felt so weak. So out of control whenever memories of Kiara hit. There was nothing I hated more than that feeling.

“It is. You’re letting someone new in. There’s a part of you that wants to share more with her.”

“No, there’s not.” I couldn’t allow even the smallest piece of me to want that. Because if I let something slip, and I broke, I wasn’t sure I could climb back out of that hole.

“Cain, there’s no rush. Keep Kiara off the table for now. Have you shared other parts of your life with Kennedy?”

That vicious vise-grip on my chest eased a bit. “Yeah.” I told her about my company, the bullshit and betrayal I was dealing with, the project I was working on. I’d told her more about that than I’d told anyone else.

“Good.” I could hear the smile in Dr. Murphy’s voice. “New assignment for the week.”

I groaned. “Enough with the fucking assignments.”

“Just bear with the torture a little longer. This week, I want you to mark the things that go right. You’re too focused on the negative. Try to pay attention to the positive. Write down three things every day that you’re thankful for.”

“You sound like Kennedy.” She was in the process of hugging all her little dancers before they ran off to meet the parents who’d come to pick them up.

“How so?”

“She has this thing about gratitude. She has these jars, and she writes down things she’s grateful for each day and puts them in there.”

“I like her already. Maybe you can make your own jar.”

“Don’t push your luck, Doc.” I couldn’t exactly see myself painting and decorating a jar and putting it on my bookshelf.

Murphy chuckled. “Fine. I’ll settle for you writing down three things a day. You can burn it after if you want.”

Now there was an idea. Kennedy bent to grab her bag and rubbed her ribs where the bruising was. “I gotta go.”

“Talk to you soon, Cain.”

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