“Hear me out,” Marin said. “It’s smart to want to be safe. It’s a natural instinct. If we protect ourselves—our bodies, our minds, our hearts—we can avoid all these messy things. Being embarrassed. Making mistakes. Looking dumb. Getting our hearts broken. But there’s a huge price to pay for that safety. And usually that price is being alone or being stuck. Whether that’s stuck in a job or a relationship or in a place you don’t want to be. Everything has a price. For whatever reason, something in you wants to be safe. Girls in movies are safe.”
Lawrence’s expression didn’t change, but he was obviously listening.
“We’ve met for a number of weeks now, Lawrence. I know you’re smart. I know you know that Rebecca Bling was not a real possibility, that it was a fantasy. That email may have brought that home, but it didn’t tell you something you didn’t already know on some level. So what we really need to focus on is figuring out why you have this need to feel that safe, what price you’re paying for it, and if that price is worth it.”
Donovan leaned back in his chair, impressed with Marin’s approach. She’d managed to call out Lawrence’s flaws and get past his hair-trigger defenses by framing it in a compliment and focusing on the positives—you’re smart, you’re good at staying safe.
Lawrence chewed on a thumbnail, considering her. “It sucks being alone all the time. I mean, who wants that? But women don’t . . . get me.”
Triumph flared in Marin’s eyes, and Donovan wanted to stand up and cheer for all three of them. They were finally getting somewhere with Lawrence.
But Marin kept her expression as smooth as water on a windless day. “Okay, let’s talk about that. What do you think women don’t get about you?”
The rest of the session went quickly, and both of them were able to get some things out of Lawrence—one being that the guy had been humiliated during an early sexual experience and had anxiety about that. It was a victory all around. The guy was talking, actually getting to the heart of things, and Marin had been the one to do it. Not a blushing cheek in sight.
When they finally wrapped up the session and walked Lawrence out, it took everything Donovan had not to sweep Marin up in his arms and twirl her around. Tell her everything, let it all spill out. Instead, he shut the door and leaned against it, smiling wide. “Is it bad that you rocking the hell out of that session kind of turned me on?”
She laughed and let out a little squeal, which was uncharacteristically girly for her. “Oh my God, that was such a rush. I feel like I actually got somewhere. Like I may be able to help him after all.”
He stepped closer to her, a moth to flame, and put his hands on her shoulders. “Of course you’ll be able to help him. You’re a brilliant therapist. I never doubted you for a second.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Bullshit, West. After that first session with him, you were expecting I was going to be the next victim of the X-wing gauntlet. You were probably already chiseling my proverbial headstone.”
“Never. I’m too good of a trainer to let that happen.”
She smirked. “So this is all you, then? You’re taking credit.”
“Totally.”
She shoved him playfully. “Egomaniac.”
He grabbed her wrist and brought her hand to his mouth, brushing his lips over her knuckles. “Seriously. I’m so damn proud of you. This is all you. You’re a natural.”
He gathered her closer, and she let her head fall to his shoulder with a sigh. “God. It feels really, really good.”
He could smell her hair, the sweet scent that lingered on his pillows, in his head. “What does?”
She took a second to respond but when she did, her voice had gone soft. “Figuring out where you’re meant to be.”
He ran his hand along the back of her head, a spike of something potent going through him. He knew her words were about finding her place at work, but they weaved through him, too, holding a whole other kind of meaning. He held her tighter.
Let her go.
The command whispered through his head, but he couldn’t heed it. The words were surging up in his throat. He wasn’t strong enough to let her walk without at least saying it. He needed to tell her how he felt. Tell her about his past. He couldn’t keep pretending.
He lifted her face to him. “Marin . . . there’s something I need to talk—”
But before he could get out the rest, the door swung open behind him, and voices hit him like a two-by-four to the back. He and Marin both leapt back from each other, unable to play it off, and spun toward the intruders. So much of him was hoping it was just Ysa or even a client, but no. Of course the universe couldn’t be so kind. Elle McCray had walked in . . . with Dr. Suri.
Elle’s face lit with feigned surprise. “Oh my, I am so sorry.”
Donovan hated Elle in that moment. Hated himself for ever getting involved with her. Yes, he deserved her wrath, but bringing Marin into it was taking it too far. People’s fucking careers were on the line, and she was putting on some stupid performance.
Dr. Suri looked honestly stunned, her dark eyes darting from him to Marin then back. “Dr. West, what exactly is going on here? Didn’t I just see a client leave this office?”
Marin stepped forward. “Dr. Suri, I’m so sorry. It was—”
“My fault,” Donovan supplied. Marin’s head whipped around to gawk at him. “Dr. Rush was excited about a breakthrough with a client, and I . . . I hugged her and got carried away.”