Cement Heart(38)

“My name is Viper, and I don’t talk about my personal life with strangers,” I said dryly.

She nodded and flicked her tongue in between her teeth and top lip as she looked around the room. “Okay. Well, this is definitely going to be an interesting ride, isn’t it?”

I was annoyed, pissed the fuck off. I didn’t want to be there in the first place, and the last thing I needed was this little tart giving me a hard time and riding my ass. She was fine as hell but a total bitch.

“You’re a condescending pain in the ass, you know that?” I growled. “And what the fuck do you mean ‘interesting ride’? I came to this appointment because I was forced to. Now I’m leaving.” I stood up, grabbed my keys off the coffee table, and headed toward the door.

“That’s fine. You can go,”—she stood up and walked over to her desk nonchalantly—“but that’s the wrong door.”

My hand was inches from the doorknob when I froze.

What?

Spinning around, I took two steps toward her desk. “What?”

“See that door?” She smugly pointed to another door on the other side of her office. “That’s the one you leave through.”

I sighed in frustration and marched to the other side of the room.

“When do you want to come back?” she asked just as I got to the door.

At that point, all I could do was laugh. “You’ve got to be shitting me.” I rolled my eyes as I turned back to her one more time.

Her eyes lifted to mine just a little and she shrugged. “No, I’m not shitting you. I have the power to decide when it is you’re ready to be done with treatment, and seeing as how I don’t even know why you’re here in the first place… nope, not ready.” She picked a pen up off her desk and chewed on the end as she flipped the pages of a calendar in front of her. “Soooo… you wanna come back or no?”

Unfuckingbelievable.

In that moment, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stab her in the eye with that pen or throw everything off her desk and fuck her on it. “Fine,” I agreed stubbornly as I walked over and sat back down on the couch. “Can we just get this over with right now, then?”

She looked down at the chunky white watch that sat on her tiny, tan wrist and then back up at me, smiling. “Nope. I have another client coming in fifteen minutes and I’m definitely gonna need longer than that with you.”

“Fine!” I yelled, jumping to my feet. “Then when?”

“I have an opening tomorrow…” —she tapped the pen against her desk as she studied her calendar again— “at seven o’clock. Want it?”

“Sure,” I sighed in defeat as I started walking toward the door again. “I didn’t know therapists worked that late. See you tomorrow.”

“Uh, Viper…”

I opened the door and turned back to face her.

She stood behind her desk, grinning at me with her hands on her hips. “That’s seven o’clock in the morning.”





ONE OF THE reasons I loved my job was that I didn’t have to set an alarm in the summer. I could be as fucking lazy as I wanted to be and sleep as late as I wanted. Workouts and practices were optional, though highly recommended, but there was no set time. Fucking time. The annoying beep, beep, beep of my alarm sounded from my phone and I swatted at it to make it stop.

I rolled onto my back and stared up at my ceiling. My meeting with Dr. Roberts yesterday had been mentally exhausting, and I was not looking forward to going back and doing it all over again. If she’d been telling the truth, she knew nothing other than my name, and it wasn’t safe for her to be digging around in my head. Shit, even I tried not to get lost in there.

My alarm sounded again and I turned if off for good this time.

6:50. Fuck.

I jumped out of bed, swished some mouthwash while I took a quick piss, and was out the door.

Suite 301. Same weird little office. Same weird little light switch.

“Good morning!” she cheered as she opened the door, smiling at me.

“Morning,” I grumbled.

I sat on the couch as she sat in the chair across from me and stared.

“What?” I snapped defensively.

She crossed her legs and leaned forward, resting her elbow on her knee. “Here’s the thing… clearly, you’re going through some… stuff. I’d like to just talk to you like we’re friends, about whatever you want. Eventually, any issues we need to address will bubble to the surface and we’ll get to where we need to go. Do you agree?”

I didn’t say anything. I just shrugged.

“I’m going to tell you a little about myself again, from a more personal standpoint this time. My name is Shawn, and I never wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to do flips my whole life and win a gold medal.” She stood and walked over to the fridge again, grabbing two bottles of water this time, and she set one of them down in front of me. “That obviously didn’t pan out because of my bum ankle, and I was angry for many, many years. Without sports in my life, I became a bit of a wild child as a teenager and did some things I swear I’ll never talk about again. After my mom forced me into some counseling of my own, it became apparent to me that I needed sports in my life in one form or another. So… I began running. First 5Ks, then half marathons, then full marathons. There was no denying that deep down I was an athlete before everything else.”