4
| NICOLE |
His confidence in me is shaken; I’m sure of it. Frankly, I don’t blame him. This is the absolute worst thing he could’ve witnessed.
Kenny is a troubled guy with a lot of hardships in his life and a variety of mental health issues that have plagued him through high school. Unlike most of my other students, he also sees a psychologist for traditional behavioral treatments and a psychiatrist for medication. But now with the difficulties he’s been having being in college with no foster family anymore, he’s needed to adjust his meds quite a bit, which hasn’t been an easy transition.
Not that I can legally divulge any of this, of course.
“What the hell was that out there?!” Logan bellows the second his office door slams shut, anger throbbing in his voice, his chiseled jaw locked with tension.
“An unfortunate, but highly atypical situation, Logan. As you well know, none of my students have ever been in danger like that before. People freeze up on the wall for a lot of different reasons, it’s part of the therapy process. If Kenny hadn’t been climbing without me to begin with, things never would’ve gotten to that point.”
He looks exasperated as he stands there towering over me at his full height just north of six feet. Like an impossibly tough, complex, daunting mountain a climber would have to be a little crazy for wanting to take on. As a therapist, I don’t really like using that word, but good lord, I might be feeling a little crazy right now.
“I’m not talking about the kid,” he growls, “I’m talking about you. You went up almost four stories without gear. What the fuck, Nicole.”
“If I hadn’t, Kenny would’ve gotten seriously injured.” Given how on edge he is at the moment, I know I should probably leave it at that, but I keep going. “I would do it all over again if I needed to.”
“Jesus Christ. Are you trying to get me to take away your climbing privileges?”
I gasp. And then narrow my eyes at him. I don’t like being threatened. “You would make me move all my students to a different gym?!” Not that any other gym is even on my radar. Logan’s is bar none the best.
He glares right back at me. “I mean climbing privileges anywhere. I’ll make sure you’re blacklisted from every goddamn gym on the west coast.”
He wouldn’t!
Expression harsh and unyielding, he crosses his arms over his chest and reads my mind. “Oh, I would, sweetheart. You can’t be reckless on a climb. I won’t allow it.”
“That was a calculated risk. And a necessary one,” I argue. “You know me. I don’t have a reckless bone in my body. I’ll sign a waiver if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I don’t care about that shit,” he snarls. “I care about you not cracking your head open. Or worse.” Raw, sincere, and outright pissed-off concern is slashed across his expression.
Not going to lie, hearing that Logan Reynolds cares about me in any context is a little surreal. And strangely intoxicating.
But, instead of overanalyzing the situation like I would normally, I frame the situation in a way that I know deep down he doesn’t want to think about.
“What if that had been Hannah up there?” I ask. “Would you have objected to me going up without gear to help her? Would you have stayed down here yourself?”
His hands curl into frustrated, white-knuckled fists. He doesn’t answer.
I venture a step closer, resisting the urge to calm him with tactile contact. Somehow, I don’t think placing my hand on any part of his hard, musclebound frame right now would do either of us any good.
“Logan, if you can honestly tell me that what I did was wrong, not just dangerous or scary, but actually wrong, then I swear to you right now I’ll never do anything like that again.”
He hisses his displeasure at my words, shoving his hands in his pocket and grudgingly maintaining his silence.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “If you let me work with Hannah, I assure you that I’ll take the same kind of calculated risks to ensure her safety.”
His gaze is equal parts annoyed and incredulous when he finally says, “You don’t argue fucking fairly at all.”
I smile. That’s the nicest thing he’s ever said to me.
Gazing at me with hooded eyes, he asks quietly, “You really think Hannah needs therapy?”
“It wouldn’t be therapy. Any time I put in with her will be totally pro-bono.”
He gives me a dry look. “Is that your nice way of telling me I can’t afford you?”
Ah, humor. Now we’re getting somewhere. “If I charge you, she’ll become one of my therapy clients, which I honestly don’t think is necessary at this point. I just want to teach her some overarching techniques that could help her out. That’s all. It’ll just me hanging out with my friend’s daughter.”
Maybe I’m reaching by calling us friends. I’ve known the man for years, but he hasn’t exactly been ‘friendly’ with me during all that time. Respectful, yes. Cordial, sure. But fairly distant, always.
“Anyway,” I continue. “We can add in the climbing part later, only if you’re both comfortable. In her case, I think she would really benefit from it.”
He grunts. It’s a thoughtful grunt, but I can tell he’s still not fully on board.
“Do you promise to be doubly careful with her up on the wall than you are usually?” he asks then. “Not just because she’s younger, but because she’s my kid?”
I can’t help but smile over that. Most folks would’ve worded that in reverse. The man is like a big, growly grizzly bear, fiercely gentle with no one except his cub. “I promise.”
I arch an eyebrow at him. “Do you promise to not be overbearing and overprotective and over-questioning of my methods at every turn?”
“Hell no.”
It was worth a shot. I grin up at him. “So, are we doing this?
“I’m still not convinced she needs this.”
“Duly noted.”
“This better not interfere with her schoolwork.”
“It won’t.”
“You better not change her. She’s perfect the way she is.”
Gah, this man. “I think she’s pretty special, too, Logan.”
He mulls this all over for another few seconds, pacing and running a conflicted hand through his thick, chestnut brown hair, mussing with it at every pivot.
It’s almost unfair that the more he musses, the sexier he gets.
Eventually, he stops and gives me a look. “My agreeing to this doesn’t mean I don’t still think you’re more than a little nuts half the time.”
“I’m totally okay with that. A little proud, to be honest.”
His lips twitch up at the corner. “Okay then. You have my permission to talk to her about this or whatever she needs to work through, so long as you don’t go all full-therapist on her. And from there, if she says she wants to climb, I’ll let her go up with you once a week to start.”
Victory!
“And…thanks. For wanting to help,” he adds gruffly.
Aw. Bigger victory. But this one has me more melting than pumping my fist in the air. “Entirely my pleasure, Logan.”
Dammit, why did that come out so breathy and…suggestive? “She’s a great kid,” I add quickly. “I’ve always thought so.”
A pride-filled, affection-lit grin softens his expression at my compliment. As far as I’m concerned, these adoring, overprotective papa bear tendencies are just the most heartbreakingly attractive qualities in the male species.
“Thank you for catching me when I fell earlier,” I say then for reasons I can only attribute to an impaired mental state affected by my floating around in a puddle of swoon.
His eyes darken at the reminder of my fall.
Shoot! Just when I’d managed to defuse things. I brace myself for more shouting.
But his voice is quiet this time. “If you’d gotten hurt out there…”
His eyes search my face like I’ve got answers to questions he can’t ask. “That would’ve fucked me up big time. I probably would’ve needed therapy or some of your psychological voodoo. Which means I would’ve made damn sure to ride your ass during your rehab until you got well enough to get back to work and be my therapist so you could shrink my head back to normal. So…yeah, it’s a good thing you didn’t get injured.”
Goodness gracious, the man just has no idea how sweet he can be sometimes.