Page 44 of Timelessly Ours
“Thank you.”
I smile again and take a seat in the waiting room of Dr. Pamela Heart’s office. She’s been my therapist since I was twenty years old. I hated the guts out of her back then.
I hated the guts out of everyone except my brother—as annoying as he was. But Dr. Heart has been with me and helped me overcome so much over the years. Sure, there were a few times I went off the rails and kept getting mixed up with the wrong crowd again…and again. But she’s always seen me for the person I am deep—and I mean deep—inside.
Not the lost soul that will never find her way back.
“Nicole, she’s ready for you.”
“Thanks.” I stand with my usual raised chin and plastered smile while my insides turn with a mixture of nerves, emotion, and the need to run for the nearest exit.
“Hi, Pamela.” The first name basis was insisted on about a year ago and it’s made a world of difference for me.
She stands from her desk and moves to the couch where we sit on opposite ends.
“You’re not due to see me until later in the month. Everything alright?”
I grip my knees. “No. It’s not. I… had a setback. A small one. Okay, maybe not so small. It was Sunday night.”
Her smile fades and she looks down at her notebook. But her pen doesn’t move.
“What happened that night?”
“I ended up at the bar where I used to—”
“No. Start at the beginning. What happened earlier that night?” she asks calmly. Just her voice, her rich, understanding, soothing voice makes me release a breath and start over.
Pamela nods slowly as I walk her through it all, only making minor notes every so often but staying focused.
I pause and wait for her to say something.
When she doesn’t, I continue. “I realize I should have been here the very next day.”
She shakes her head. “You’re timing is just fine.”
“I know I should have gone to my brother instead of accepting the offer from his coach, but…I’m just not ready to have my life taken over again—or screw with my brother’s, you know? He’ll keep me from working, he’ll have me tag along everywhere. I can’t live like that. And neither should he.”
She nods. “I agree.”
“You think he’s crazy—for hiring me?”
“We’re back to Coach Collins now?” She blinks and glances down, choosing her words. “I think he’s giving you a very generous shot to prove yourself. He obviously sees your potential.”
I scoff. “He’s just desperate.”
“How are you doing? With Rory?”
“She’s… just a dream,” I say.
Pamela waits patiently for the truth. “More of a nightmare, actually.” I look up at her guiltily. “I’m screwing up. And last night…I thought I was hurting her. Realistically, I didn’t, but when she screamed—” I choke on my words and my hand shoots to my left arm.
Pamela is silent, which is odd for her. She picks up the phone and asks the receptionist to extend my visit today, at no additional charge.
“Nicole,” she starts when I explain what I did in the backyard. “You are not your mother. You are not those men from the warehouse. You had fun with her. You got creative. She was laughing. Her father may not see it now, but I bet you earned her respect.”
I nod absently.
“And how is your communication? With her father?”
