Boston, Massachusetts

Present Day

---

My alarm didn’t wake me—I’d turned that off hours ago after realizing with delight that the one and only good thing about Laurel being in Scotland was that she wasn’t around to bully me into going to therapy. After this many months, I figured it was acceptable to skip one time. In my mind, it was the biggest waste of an hour each week anyway. But rather than enjoy a lazy morning in bed with my cat, my phone dinged at seven-thirty a.m. on the dot with a text message from my rehabilitation therapist, Sue.

Groaning, I stretched and reached down to pat Mr. Crinkles, my solid black, one-eyed, relentlessly ornery cat who lay curled up on the far corner of my bed. He began to purr.

Ever since the fire that took my right arm and my cat’s left eye, Laurel and Sue had embodied the very definition of “tough-love.” Even immediately following the accident, when I was still in unbearable pain and wading through tremendous grief over losing my arm, Laurel wouldn’t do a thing for me. She wanted me to do everything on my own. Even when I threw self-pity-fueled temper tantrums—which happened more often in those first few months than I cared to admit—she never caved.

Sue was no different in my sessions with her. She pushed me to my breaking point every week. As a result, each week I grew stronger. I owed both of them so much, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still incredibly pissed to get her unwelcome text message at—what was for me—the ass-crack of dawn.

It was the one part of her work with me that drove me mad. Sue was the best rehabilitation therapist in Boston, but she would only accept clients who agreed to see a counselor each and every week while under her care. In theory, I understood her reasoning. Most of her clients were recovering from terrible accidents or illnesses and were learning to work with the body they now had. Of course there were psychological issues that needed to be worked through after such a tragedy.

But what Sue didn’t seem to understand or believe, no matter how many times I tried to tell her, was that I had already worked through all of my feelings about the accident. It had happened. It was awful. It was time for me to move the hell on.

“Knock knock.” In her signature style that wasn’t really knocking, my mother knocked on the door by saying the words out loud while she pushed the door open without permission. “I brought coffee.”

I smiled and scooted myself up in the bed. Despite my insistence that I didn’t need her help, Mom had flown up to Boston from her home in Florida the day after Laurel left for Scotland. She’d been showering me with attention, and I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t milking it just a little bit. So many of the things Laurel would never do for me, Mom would, and since it delighted her so much to feel like she was helping me, I allowed it. Or at least, that’s the excuse I made for myself when I started to feel guilty for letting her do things that I was entirely capable of doing on my own.

“How did you know I was up?”

“I didn’t. If you weren’t, I was going to wake you. While you were showering yesterday morning, Dr. Ackard’s office called to confirm your appointment this morning. I told them you would be there.”

Silently, I took the cup of coffee as I watched Mr. Crinkles lean into my mom and begin to purr. He was such a ham.

“What if I wasn’t going to be there?”

Her scrunched brows made her look as if she didn’t understand the question. “Of course you’re going to be there. Sue won’t see you otherwise, and you can’t afford to miss one of your sessions with her.”

“Sure I can. All we’re working on now is strength and range of motion in my shoulder. I can work on those things from home.”

Mom continued as if she couldn’t hear me speaking. “I made eggs Benedict again—your favorite.”

She’d made it every morning since arriving. While it was indeed my favorite meal, I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d tired of it days ago.

“Thank you. You really don’t have to cook for me every morning. Sometimes, a bowl of cereal would be just fine.”

She smiled and waved a dismissive hand as she stood and turned toward the door.

“It’s no trouble. I enjoy doing it.”

She paused as she reached the door and looked down at the mess of open books I had spread out over my desk. “What’s all this?”

I couldn’t possibly tell her all that I was researching, all that Laurel was up to, or the fact that my sister was most likely chilling in the seventeenth century. “It’s nothing. Just doing some research. Trying to brainstorm ideas for Laurel’s next book.”

She twisted her head to the side and looked at me skeptically. “Laurel’s next book?”

I nodded and she shook her head as she exhaled sadly. “You shouldn’t miss your counseling sessions, Kate. Not even once. Why don’t you hop in the shower? We can eat before you leave for your appointment.”

She left without another word, leaving me confused and wondering why my explanation of the books spread out on my desk had caused her to tell me I shouldn’t miss counseling.

At least now I had something to talk about in today’s session.

---

“What do you think your mother meant by that statement, Kate?”

I sighed and leaned back rather dramatically in my chair. “Please don’t do that. Don’t say the most therapy-sounding thing you could possibly say when I really do want your opinion. If I knew what she meant by it, I wouldn’t have spent all morning wondering what she meant by it.”

She pinched her lips together as if contemplating whether or not to tell me what she was really thinking. “Why didn’t you simply ask her what she meant by it?”

“I suppose I knew that if I did, she would give me some sort of non-answer and it would aggravate me and then we’d get into an argument.”

“Or maybe you were worried that she would tell you exactly what she meant by it and that would aggravate you even more?”

“See?” I pointed at her. “That’s why I don’t like therapists. You clearly believe you know what she meant by it, but you won’t tell me. You’d rather torture me by trying to make me figure it out on my own.”

Dr. Ackard looked as if it was taking every muscle in her face to suppress an eye roll at my dramatics. “I am not trying to torture you, Kate. I just don’t want to answer the question because I don’t know your mother. I don’t know what she meant by the statement. You do know her.”

“Okay, fine.” I paused as I tried to think of another way to approach this with her. “You also believe that I shouldn’t skip therapy every week. So, why don’t you tell me why you believe that? Why do I need to be here so badly? I don’t feel like I’m in a bad place anymore. I feel pretty stable and sound of mind.”

She shifted in her seat but kept her expression calm and collected. “First of all, of course you are stable and sound of mind. Most people who seek counseling are and it’s offensive for you to suggest otherwise. Everyone needs help working through things in their life now and again.”

I smiled, feeling vindicated. “That’s my point though. I feel as if I’ve worked through this difficult thing. I feel as if I’m past it.”

Dr. Ackard shrugged and crossed her arms. “Perhaps you are. I really wouldn’t know.”

“What does that mean? I’m in here with you every week. You should know better than anyone.”

She gave me one curt nod and lifted a hand in concession. “You’re right. I should, but I really know nothing about you, Kate. I know a whole lot about your sister’s dating life and your efforts to see her set up via a whole host of online dating sites and disasters. I know a lot about your mother. I know that you loved your job before the fire, but I have no idea how you feel about it now. And now, I know a lot about your sister’s trip to Scotland and your desire to research her location, that I don’t quite understand, but I know nothing about you.”

I didn’t understand her. Despite my weekly reluctance to attend my counseling sessions with her, I spoke to her the whole hour each and every time. I’d talked about all sorts of things over the weeks and months with her.

“But all of those things are about me.”

“No, Kate. They’re about the people close to you. You never talk about yourself. And whenever I ask you about anything related directly to you, you get squirmy.”

My clothes felt suddenly too tight as my defensiveness grew.

“I do not.”

“How was your last date with Dillon? What do you think of his suggestion that you move out of Kate’s apartment and in with him?”

Dillon had nothing to do with this. I glanced at the clock.

“I think I’ve already gone over my hour.”

“My next appointment cancelled. It’s fine if we go over.”

I stood and moved toward the door. “I have to get to Sue’s. It takes a while from here. See you next week, Dr. Ackard.”

She called after me as I reached the door. “Kate.”

I paused with my hand on the handle.

“Surely you can see that you’ve just proven my point. I’m here for you as long as you need me, but you’re never going to make any progress until you are willing to stop distracting yourself with anything and everything outside of yourself. First, it was getting Dillon set up in his dental practice, then it was Laurel’s dating life, now it’s Laurel’s trip to Scotland. Someday you’re going to have to deal with you.”

I left without a word. Sue wouldn’t have to push me at all today. I was too frustrated and fired up. I had more than enough energy to do whatever she asked me to.