Page 39 of Heart Strings & Hotlines
“I’ve been telling you this for years,” Rafe says.
“Shut up, Rafe.”
Lottie is no longer smiling. “If you’re not even willing to consider it, then you’ll have to take her to the salon tomorrow and explain what she wants.”
“What? No. No…” Earthquake, meet volcano.
“Therapy, Thane. I’ve been in it for years, and it will help you both.”
She’s a demanding little thing, and it’s hotter than I want to admit.
“Are you going to come with me?” I ask her, then point an accusing finger at Rafe. “And are you going to be the facilitator?”
Rafe holds up his hands while Lottie laughs.
“I’m not that kind of therapist. I could lose my license for that,” Rafe whines.
“Now you’re worried about the legalities of messing with my head? You’ve been doing it for years, Rafe. Years.”
“I can’t do therapy with you.” Lottie is slowly inching toward my bedroom door.
Lottie’s in my bedroom, and we’re arguing over therapy. What fucking world did I fall into here?
“Yes, you can, both of you, and if I find value in what we discuss as a group, then I’ll find a real therapist.”
“And you’ll do therapy by yourself and with Kara.”
Clearly I no longer need to concern myself with Lottie’s negotiating skills. She’s a goddamn shark.
“Kara is already in therapy twice a week. She does it virtually right now.” I stare at a point on the wall, and my jaw cracks as I clench it. “And I’ll think about it.”
“That’s a good start,” she repeats sweetly. “Rafe, you in?”
“The shit you drag me into, Thane. Seriously. I cannot provide psychotherapy…you need much more than I can offer, but I could guide you through some self-work with meditation—as your friend, not as your therapist.”
Hell, that sounds a lot better than therapy.
“Does that meet your requirements?” My jaw relaxes as I stare at her.
Lottie shrugs. “For now.”
“For now,” I whisper.
“But no more hiding.” She nods toward my hands, and it takes every ounce of strength I possess not to shove them into my pockets and start tapping again.
“I’ll try.”
“Good enough.” She smirks. “For now. And, ah…” She points at the ugly carpet. “This is included in your renovations, correct?”
“You don’t like it?” A lightness fills me. I don’t tease normally, but this feels…fun.
“Not even a little.” She turns toward the door. “I’ll text you when Kara and I are on our way home tomorrow.”
She means our separate homes, but my brain takes that in a radically different direction. One where I knock down both homes and we build something bigger, and better, together. In the background, I’m already sketching designs. In the present, I study her body language as she walks out of the room.
“What’s happening in your mind?” Rafe says quietly.
“I…” I listen for my narrator to give me some direction, but all he does is count. Fucking traitor. The only voice I hear is my own, talking about building a house and going to therapy with Lottie.
