Donovan almost pointed out that no, his parents actually were, but that would’ve been petty and would’ve risked Lawrence giving up on treatment altogether. Lawrence stared at him like he expected an answer, used to getting his way when he threw a man tantrum. But when Donovan didn’t budge or say anything more, Lawrence launched himself off the couch and stalked toward the door, throwing out a whatever. When he passed Marin, he mumbled a sorry but didn’t look her way or slow his stride.
The door slammed behind him, and the pictures rattled on the walls. Silence ensued for a few long seconds until Marin sagged in her seat and groaned. “Well, that went great. Gold star, Dr. Rush!”
Donovan smirked, tossed his notepad onto the nearby desk, and then stretched his neck from side to side. “Nah, it wasn’t that bad.”
She looked over at him like he’d told her turtles could fly. “Now I know you’re bullshitting me. The guy just walked out because of me.”
“No, he walked out because of him. Lawrence’s biggest issue is that he objectifies women and fixates on them as tools for his pleasure. He got himself in trouble in high school because he got obsessed with a girl and started following her home and peeking in her windows. That’s when his parents originally started him in therapy.”
She frowned.
“He’s moved on to a safer target in the porn star but not healthier. I mean, how apropos that he literally has a piece of a woman to use now? No face, no brain, no words.” He ran his hand over the back of his head. “He’s taken a big step back. It’s frustrating. But having to deal with your reactions today—a real woman who has thoughts and opinions—could be therapeutic.”
She rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “I don’t know. That felt like a disaster. We had to end the session early.”
He shrugged. “Clients are going to get pissed. You expose the vulnerable spots, and people are going to react like wounded animals. It’s part of the deal. You use that anger to get to the stuff you need if you have to. And you always, always keep your cool.”
“So was I looking at him a certain way?”
Donovan leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees. “You weren’t looking at him like he was a pervert. That was him projecting his feelings about himself onto you. But you did blush again, and that can be a problem in sessions. You’ve done it a few times today and most of the time it went unnoticed. But if they see it, it can make clients feel like they should be ashamed if you’re embarrassed.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Shit.”
“Don’t stress. You can train yourself out of it.”
She peered over at him. “Right. And how would I do that? It’s not like I want to blush. I’ve been fighting that particular affliction since grade school.”
“Easy. You have to learn how to be unshockable.”
She sniffed. “The nature of shock is that you’re surprised by something you don’t see coming. How the hell can I prepare for what I don’t know will shock me?”
“Oh, don’t give me that, Rush. You have a good idea of what will do it.” He rolled his chair over to hers so that he was facing her, their knees almost touching. This wasn’t an issue he’d ever come across with another trainee, but it was one they were going to have to fix. Starting now. “Okay. What if I said, ‘I like to cut my thighs with a razor when I’m having a hard day’?”
He said it with a straight face. Truth usually came out that way. Even if this one was a past truth not a current one.
A wrinkle appeared between her brows. “I’d say we need to talk about the dangers of self-harm and work on finding alternative ways to release stress or emotion.”
He nodded. “Good. Now what if I said, ‘I like to dig my nails into my thigh when I masturbate’?”
Sometimes true.
Sure enough, her cheeks stained pink. She licked her lips. “I’d say if that works for you, go for it.”
The soft cadence of her voice and the sight of her tongue slipping over her lips distracted him for a second. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to be the one getting too warm. He reached over and touched her hot cheek. “There’s your answer, Marin.”
She seemed startled for a second, something unreadable flickering in her gaze, and then she turned her face away with a grimace.
He lowered his hand to his side, knowing he shouldn’t have allowed himself that touch in the first place. He dragged his focus back, trying to remind his brain that this was work and he was training her. “Society teaches us to react that way when people talk about sex. It’s not your fault. But in this job, you have to lose that or it will be your downfall.”
Her jaw flexed. “Believe me, I get that. But I’m not sure how to get past it—beyond time and a lot of sessions. I don’t want to be screwing up with clients in the meantime.”
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Annoyance filled her tone. Annoyance at herself. He loved that she was so determined to get everything right. To be perfect right out of the gate. It was an impossible goal, but he admired that she set it for herself anyway.
Donovan leaned back in his chair and considered her. He should probably leave it at that, just let her work it out over time. That’d be the prudent course. Eventually, she’d get to the been-there-heard-that stage. But that could take a while, and he knew it would drive her crazy. She was a perfectionist. She was going to beat herself up over any mistake. And if she didn’t fix it quickly enough, she’d fall victim to the dark side of perfectionism. Quitting. She’d bail because imperfection was too uncomfortable. He’d have failed her. And lost his promotion and maybe his job in the process. No way could he let any of that happen.
He clasped the back of his neck and rubbed the tension gathering there. He’d told Elle that he’d stop by after work for a chat. He hadn’t gone over to her place since the morning he’d had to sneak out half-dressed. They needed to talk, cut the ties. But the whole idea of seeing her tonight had dread curling through him. He checked his watch. “What are you doing later tonight?”