"I have.Many times."The admission costs me, makes my heart hammer against my ribs.
She whirls to face me, disbelief etched across her features."You?"
I let out a low chuckle at her tone."Yeah, me."
"Why?"The word comes out barely above a whisper."Why did you need to see a psychiatrist?"
My gaze drifts to the window, to the city beyond."My father's death."
The confession hangs between us.Then her forehead presses against my chest, the gesture so unexpectedly vulnerable it steals my breath.
"Did it help?"Her words vibrate against my shirt."Talking?"
"At first, I thought it was bullshit."My hands itch to touch her, but I hold still."But yeah, it helped.Still does.Gives me clarity when my mind's a mess."
She tilts her head up, searching my face."When was the last time you went?"
Our eyes lock."A few days ago."
"A few—" She blinks."Why?"
I catch a strand of her silk-soft hair between my fingers, letting it slide through them."The unexpected changes these past weeks...they affected me more than I wanted to admit.So I called her."
Her fingers start drawing absent circles on my chest, the touch both soothing and maddening.I watch her process, see the thoughts moving behind those expressive eyes.
"What's going on in that head of yours?"
"Maybe..."She stops, pressing her forehead back against my chest.
"Maybe what, Alex?"I whisper, finally allowing my hands to rest on her back.
"Maybe..."She exhales shakily."Maybe I want to try it."
"Try what?"
She groans at my persistence, knowing I need her to say it.After a long moment, she whispers, "Maybe I want to try talking to someone."
I cup her face, thumb stroking her cheek.When she meets my gaze, the vulnerability there breaks my heart.I brush my lips over hers, gentle as a whisper.She sighs, fingers curling into my shirt.
"How do I..."She swallows."How do I find someone?It needs to be a woman."
"I can give you my therapist's number.She's excellent.I think you'd like her."
Hope flickers in her eyes."You wouldn't mind?"
"No."I catch her wandering hand as it skims my torso, the innocent touch threatening my control."But there's one small complication.She's not in Boston."
"Where is she?"
"Sydney, Australia."
Her brows furrow."Explain."
"She emigrated.Instead of office visits, I do video calls.You could do the same—Skype sessions from your apartment."
Before I can blink, she's pulling my head down, pressing her warm mouth to mine."Thank you," she breathes against my lips.
The soft gratitude in her voice ignites something primal in me.I capture her mouth again, and when her tongue slides against mine, sparks explode behind my eyes.I turn us, pressing her against the window.Her small hands slip under my shirt, nails scraping my abs, and rational thought begins to fade.
