Page 67 of Lorcan
“Okay. Why don’t you curl up while I get a fuzzy blanket for you?” As he did that, I headed into the main room. I grabbed my laptop off the charger as well as my phone and a blanket.
When I returned, he was curled into a ball on his side of the bed.
I placed the blanket on him.
He closed his eyes and had a serene smile on his face.
I positioned myself next to him and drew him close. Once I’d signed in using the two-factor authentication, I put my phone on the nightstand.
By the time I opened the first file, Lorcan was snoring lightly.
We’ll get through this. I know we will.
Perhaps misplaced optimism—but a guy could dream.
Chapter Seventeen
Lorcan
Justin Bridges-Powers’s office was a bright yellow. A happy yellow. Something meant to soothe.
That sense of calm and serenity wasn’t working on me.
I’d chosen to sit in the middle of the three-seater couch.
He sat in a high-back chair across from me.
While he had a mug of tea, I drank decaf coffee.
Rainbow had, after seeking my approval, added an Irish cream, uh, creamer to my coffee. A bit sweeter than I would’ve liked, but the mix made the decaf more bearable. At this hour, consuming caffeine just wasn’t a good idea.
I sipped. “This is actually pretty good.”
The therapist smiled. He was a decent-sized guy with red hair and beard. His bright-blue eyes shone with…empathy? Amusement?
That color reminds me of Cody.The rest of the man didn’t. His ginger hair and beard were quite the opposite of…my boyfriend? We had yet to define our relationship.
“Rainbow often knows just the right touch. You’re always free to sayno,though.” The counselor smiled.
I shrugged. “She’s a nice lady. I’m appreciative of that these days.”
“You’ve had a rough go?”
“Here’s where I word vomit my life to you, right? Do I start from my crappy childhood or just stick to the last two years of hell?”
“We’ve got an hour. You can choose where to start. I’ll ask questions or redirect you if I think we’re too far off topic. I will say I read your intake form, and you were very honest—I appreciate that. Cuts down on some of the noise.”
“Noise?”
“Potential distractions.”
Slowly, I nodded. “And you researched me.”
“Without judgment, I promise. I like to know a bit about my patients. If they’ve been in the news. It’s a bit of a gamble. You might assume I already know what’s out there or you might not want me to look—”
I waved him off. “I don’t care. If it cuts through the—” I frowned. “Noise. Right. If we go straight for the problem, then that helps, right?”
He nodded.
