The first two sessions went as well as they could have, given the circumstances. When she initially walked into my office, I was happy to hear she was ready, but I knew better than to believe it. Most patients were never ready to open up at first, not even to a shrink. Which was ironic, since we were getting paid to listen without interrupting. Patients were human, though and humans rarely put their heart on their sleeves. Certainly not when it came to their own issues or even admitting they had issues.

This was Fiona’s problem. She was so concerned about admitting out loud she had a problem to begin with. She barely realized what she had done was an issue, which made my job of digging to get to the core a challenge, a challenge I was willing to take because not only was she a young woman, she was also a gorgeous one who had a future she had begun building the foundation for.

So even when she said she was ready, I was prepared for the opposite—an awkward silence, avoiding eye contact, and playing with the loose button of the arm of the couch that all my patients seemed fascinated by. Then there were the bouncing questions. One for them. One for me. Though usually, it was answering a question with another question.

“Do you have any hobbies?” I enquired to ease her into productive conversation.

“Not anymore. Do you?” she asked, and we were back to square one.

It wasn’t easy getting someone to confide in me, especially women, but I had my eye on the prize when it came to Fiona. Since hobbies weren’t doing it, I asked about her schooling, about her work, about her friends—anything to make her face light up, to get her to acknowledge me. To not be afraid of me, the first step to trusting me.

Every straw I grasped at was broken. Her responses were downcast, sad, and mumbling, unfinished answers. Answers which consisted of how she had dropped her last semester due to the accident. How she’d had a hard time making it to her part-time retail job. Then there was the problem of her overflowing inbox with unopened email, the subject lines asking about what happened at the charity gala—the one she had rushed out of that fateful night.

“I don’t know how to even open them so I just delete them,” she shrugged and her eyes darted anywhere but on me.

I tried to steer away from the topic, knowing it was too soon to examine the details of the night her parents died, though I knew it was the core we needed to get to eventually, when she could say it out loud to me in order to move on. Unfortunately for me, every damn subject I brought up led us right off the cliff neither of us was ready for. It definitely didn’t help me get any closer, nor did it get her any closer to trusting me.

After the second session with her, which got us exactly nowhere, I reluctantly dismissed her early, my own frustrations growing.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked with sad, puppy dog eyes as she stood shakily from the couch. I had not expected her reaction and tried to retrace my steps back.

“No, Fiona, I just…” I had never been good at coming up with poor excuses on the spot. The way she looked at me—like I had just kicked her in the ribs—didn’t help either. I put my hands up in the air, trying a playful approach, and pulled out Wii U controllers from my top drawer and held them up. “I just thought maybe we could give it a rest today and play some video games to ease the tension,” I suggested, knowing she might call my bluff and a scrambled response already cued in my head.

Instead, she raised an eyebrow at me and folded her arms in a huff. “Is this some kind of joke?” she asked. Her voice had more edge to it.

I frowned. “I’m not sure exactly what part about kicking your butt in Smash Brothers is a joke,” I deadpanned.

Her eyes lit up. “Did you say Smash Brothers?” I tossed her a remote, intrigued by her sudden interest.

“I’ll try to go easy on you the first round, but I do call dibs on Link.”

She caught the Wii remote easily with a smirk. “That’s okay. I’ll just humiliate you by beating you as Pikachu.” She plopped back down on the couch as I flicked on the TV. We were finally getting somewhere with each other and hope swelled in my chest.

“Game on, then.” Cutie.

* * *

Our impromptu video game session had gone well into my lunchtime when I realized we had been playing for about an hour and my next patient was due to show up in ten minutes. Not to mention how my stomach was growling, demanding my attention—and, on another note, my stats were terrible. I should have given in rounds ago since she was whooping my ass, yet I wasn’t complaining. Not when her laugh rang in my ears or when I saw how determined she was when she had something entirely new to focus on. Or how easily she let her guard down by the mere action of handing her a game controller. That’s when I noted getting my ass kicked by a girl—a cute girl—was the most fun I’d ever had in the confines of my office.

“I never would have pinned you for a gamer girl,” I commented somewhere between rounds of choosing our next character and playing fields.

“Well, when you’re an only child, you gotta pass the time somehow. Since I didn’t have any siblings to play with, I picked up video games. I have quite a collection of games in my room,” she announced proudly, and I was relieved she didn’t take my comment as an insult.

She looked at me as we waited for the game to load. “I could say the same thing about you, Dr. Sullivan. I never would have pinned a psychiatrist as having a Wii U in his office and better yet, to offer it to a patient.” Our characters dropped down into the Hyrule field, and I immediately dodged her first lightning attack.

“Well, the Wii U is popular among my younger patients. Sometimes, it’s easier getting a ten-year-old to talk while playing than it is by sitting there staring at them. Children are more apt to open up when their minds are focused on something else, something more fun to them than talking about their greatest, darkest secrets with a stranger,” I explained as I jumped to miss her next attack, flipping in mid-air.

“That makes sense,” she said as she caught my character, Link, and used her smash attack. “Is that what you are doing to me now?”

I rolled to dodge the next attack, but she was suddenly on top of me, her Pikachu causing damage before I could get Link away. First life down and one more left.

“Maybe,” I admitted, “Is it working?”

Link flipped through the air and away from her Pikachu, but she caught up and wasted no time in engaging me in a full-on melee attack. In the middle of a swordsman and a Pokémon’s battle, I managed to dodge the next attack but didn’t see the bomb her Pikachu had thrown in my direction until the last second. I rolled Link carelessly off the platform, killing his last life and announcing her as the winner.

“Maybe.” She smirked and dropped the controller on the couch, stretching her long limbs. I had a hard time not noticing her elongated body and stood up to stretch myself to focus on something else.

“Well, if video games make you feel comfortable around me, then video games can be a part of our sessions.”

She scoffed playfully. “How old do I look to you? I mean, I may be younger than you, but I think I can manage without the video games.” Her eyes did not match her words, though, as they searched the screen for her stats of the final round between us.

“Right. Well, in that case, we can do the same boring routine where I ask you questions and you mumble responses. That always works.” I found myself blurting out something I would never say to a client, yet something about Fiona caused me to remove my professional hat, and she seemed to have acknowledged it as well.

“Fine,” she said simply and walked to the door. “Just make sure next time, you actually try and beat me. It’s boring when a guy lets a girl win,” she added before turning the doorknob.

I scoffed. “Letting you win? Please. I tried my hardest. You use your down B skill way too much. There are other buttons, you know.”

The orderly I had sent for appeared in the doorway with a raised eyebrow. “Everything okay in here?” he asked and glanced at the TV that displayed my defeat.

“Just fine, Blaine. Please make sure Miss Fiona has lunch. Doctor’s order to double it,” I told the bulky man who simply nodded.

“Sure thing.”

“Looking forward to kicking your ass again tomorrow, Doctor.” Fiona smirked and they left me standing there with a stupid grin on my face.

She was beautiful and into video games too? Why was my suicide survivor slowly becoming the woman of my dreams?

I shook my head. What was more important was getting her to trust me, to work with me to help her recover. I couldn’t let my personal feelings get in the way of my work, especially when such feelings could get me fired on the spot. My job was my life, and I couldn’t allow my lack of a love life get in a way of it. Even if her confident smirks and body stretches did nothing to help the situation. I couldn’t be distracted by her.

I sighed. I never had such intense feelings for a client before, let alone a woman. My past relationships paled by comparison, which was ridiculous. I barely knew Fiona, and already, she lit up my world unlike any other had. I was acting like a hormonal teenager and needed to nip it in the bud.

My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on my door. My next client had arrived and I had work to do. Shutting the game off, I smiled to myself, knowing I had found my way to the core of Fiona Sims. I felt proud of myself, even if it was just a dent in the long run.