Page 78 of Dual
"Oh!" she squeaks, then shakes her head, curls bouncing around her face. She's wearing that green dress I love, the one that makes her hazel eyes shine. "No! I, uh..." She looks past my shoulder at Dr. Ezra. "No, I have an appointment. Your receptionist said you had an opening?"
"Of course. I'm glad to see you again, Anna," Dr. Ezra says from behind me. "Come in. Domhnall was just leaving."
Anna's eyes come back to me, and I feel all mixed up inside with confusion. She hasn't been seeing him professionally. So why is she here now?
I want to grab her and drag her out of this fucking lunatic's office. I want to take her toCarnaland fuck and fuck and fuck so neither of us has to think about anything. But her eyes, those clear, beautiful eyes, hold me in place, questioning.
"Is everything okay with you?" she asks, suddenly reaching out to squeeze my hand. "Domhn? Honey?"
I breathe out in relief. See? Dr. Ezra's wrong. She takes care of me, too. His stupid theory that I'm so starved for family I just take care of the needy like someone who takes in stray dogs because I'm so fucking desperate for someone to love me is---
"Domhn?" Anna asks again.
I blink, jolted out of my spiraling thoughts, and nod. Then I lean down to kiss her, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume---jasmine and vanilla. "Of course I'm fine, love. I'm always fine."
"See you at home later," she says, her voice soft and concerned.
I pull away before she can ask any more questions, my smile tight. The hallway stretches before me like a tunnel, the exit sign glowing red at the end.
And I wish I still had the cat-o-nine tails in my desk to greet me at home, so I could whip myself for being so fuckingweak. For needing. For never being enough. For failing everyone who had the sorry fate to fucking love me.
The rain is lighter when I step outside, but the sky remains heavy with clouds. The air is thick with the promise of another storm. I breathe it in, filling my lungs with the humid, electric scent, and try to ignore the voice in my head—not Dr. Ezra's, but my own—whispering that maybe, just maybe, he's right.
That I've been building families my whole life because I never really had one. That I'm still that four-year-old boy, desperate to prove he's worth keeping around.
Thunder rumbles overhead as I walk to my car, echoing the turmoil inside me.
TWENTY-FIVE
ANNA
The door closesbehind me with a soft click that feels somehow final, like the sound of a cage locking. I stand just inside Dr. Ezra's office, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I worry he might hear it across the room.
Domhnall's lingering cologne hangs in the air, mixing with the room's usual smells. I can almost trace his path across the plush carpet, following the ghost of his presence to the indentation still visible in the leather chair where he sat moments ago.
"Anna," Dr. Ezra says warmly, standing behind his desk. Light from the rain-washed window casts half his face in shadow. "It's been a while. Please, sit down."
I perch on the edge of the chair Domhnall just vacated, the leather still warm from his body. My fingers find the armrests where his hands must have been, and I grip them like they might keep me tethered to reality.
"Was that---" I wet my lips, tasting the cherry lip balm I applied earlier. "Is Domhnall okay?"
Dr. Ezra adjusts his glasses, the metal frames catching the soft light. His expression remains professionally neutral as he settles into his own chair. "You know I can't discuss another patient's session with you, Anna."
"I know, but..." I trail off, watching raindrops race down the window. Two merge together, becoming faster, stronger as they slide toward the sill. "He seemed upset."
"Why don't we talk about why you're here today? It's been, what, four months since your last appointment?" He glances at a file on his desk, but I know he remembers exactly how long it's been. Dr. Ezra never forgets anything.
I shift in the chair, the leather creaking beneath me. My fingers play with the hem of my emerald dress---the one Domhnall loves, the one that makes me feel like I'm wearing armor. I'd chosen it carefully this morning, knowing I'd need courage today.
"I've made a terrible mistake," I whisper, the words scraping my throat like broken glass.
Dr. Ezra waits, his pen poised over his notepad.
"I went to see Dr. Resnick," I finally say, forcing myself to meet his eyes. "For hypnotherapy."
Something flickers across his face---so brief I almost miss it. Concern? Disappointment?
"I see," he says carefully. "And what did you hope to accomplish with Dr. Resnick?"
