“Are you sure about this?”

I looked down at the paperwork, and the bold signature line glared at me. My gaze shifted up and into the soft, caring blue eyes I’d had the pleasure of looking into for the last week. Those eyes reassured me how I was sure about this.

I nodded my head. “I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about it since our last session, and I’ve come to the conclusion it is truly what’s best for me in the long run.”

Josh gave me a reassuring smile along with a black ink pen. “I can’t argue with that. Not when we are so close to the root of the problem. Sign your life away, then.”

I took a big breath before putting my name in neat cursive letters, trying not to think about the last time I had signed something so neatly. When I had signed myself into the hospital, I did it without a care because I didn’t care. There was a time when I used to care, though.

I knew where I needed to be and what I needed to do get myself out of the hole I had dug for myself. It was right in front of me. Right in Josh’s office, playing video games, chatting, laughing away the summer afternoons—and slowly, slowly, peeling away the layers of my depression. I knew deep down we were getting closer to touching on the subject I didn’t dare go near, and I didn’t want to go back to square one. No, that was not an option for me.

That’s why another week as an inpatient would do me some good. Surprisingly, I didn’t want to stop these daily sessions. Not when we had come so far in only a week. Even if I had to deal with another week of shitty hospital food and another group therapy craft project, I knew I belonged at the hospital for now.

I even surprised Josh when I brought up extending my stay. I knew he expected me to ask for my discharge papers right off the bat. Shoot, the moment I admitted myself, I was already looking forward to being discharged when I had no hope to hold onto. I had nothing but negative thoughts dragging me down—ones that convinced me I was nothing more than a hopeless case.

I didn’t think anyone could help me.

Josh was the first one who had looked past my depression and saw me as a person. Sure, Lisa tried to, but it was hard to look past something that took up so much space in our apartment, in our friendship, and in my life.

I had thrown her off with my bout of depression. She wasn’t used to the Fiona who talked back. The Fiona who didn’t move from the couch for days on end. Her best friend Fiona was the go-getter while Lisa was the backbone of our friendship. She wasn’t sure how to act when I didn’t provide the input for her output. I realized after being in the hospital for a week that Lisa did the best thing for me by convincing me to admit myself. On visiting day, I would give her the biggest hug following the biggest thank you. She’d saved me, and the baton was passed to Dr. Sullivan.

Dr. Josh Sullivan. The magnificent, mysterious man who sat in front of me, signing his signature on every page he had to. He had changed my view on doctors when he treated me like a person and not simply a patient. I still smiled fondly at the memory of him whipping out the Wii U controllers and dismissing our second session early.

At the time, I thought I had done something wrong. I mean, I hadn’t talked or given him anything to work with. I wasn’t ready to. I was still reluctant around doctors, even when he didn’t pursue my mumbles and let me drop whatever topic he’d tried to discuss. It was weird, at first. I assumed he was being lazy and didn’t really care to get to the heart of my issue, which wasn’t the case at all. I eventually came to understand it was his way of approaching me. As if I was a scared, injured doe, alone in the woods, and he was trying to reach out to me. Not a hunter. Not a predator. Simply a friendly face looking to help me. The Wii U controllers had done it for me. They’d called to me as they dangled from his hands. When Josh had pulled those out and brought the Wii U to life, he’d reawakened my love for it.

I decided I would tell him once the papers were signed and sent out to his secretary, Vickie. She was a mousy woman in her early forties with a mom-haircut and wore a cardigan or a shawl around her shoulders—even when it was seventy-five degrees outside. She was married with two kids and the sweetest lady, always giving me reassuring smiles and never the fake kind.

Once she had gone, he turned his smile on me, and I tried hard not to react to it.

“I just wanted to say thank you for the video game sessions. Believe it or not, it’s been a long time since I played. I didn’t think I would be any good at them anymore,” I admitted sheepishly.

“Really? I don’t want to believe that. Especially after the way you kicked my ass up and down the screen the first day.”

I laughed. That was the other thing about Josh. He swore and acted his age of twenty-eight and didn’t try to play the role of a pompous ass doctor.

“No, it’s true. I haven’t been able to pick up a controller in months without it bringing up memories…” My laughter died on that last bit, and Josh’s face grew serious. It was time to play patient and doctor, and I was ready to play my part.

He cleared his throat and folded his hands. “Why do you think it’s different now?” he asked.

I tread carefully. “Because it’s not my console where the button sticks after a certain incident. It’s yours, and we’re in a setting where I have no bad memories attached,” I explained, feeling like my own therapist. Like I could figure myself out. My response sounded calculated, and I was sure Josh could tell.

“So what you’re saying is anything outside of my office is a bad memory? Or something that could trigger a bad memory?” he queried.

I nodded. “Correct.” I should have said more, but it was hard when I felt like I was choking on the words that desperately refused to come out.

“Well, that’s a good thing. I want you to feel comfortable in this space. Think of it as a blank space for both of us to create your next steps together. I also would like to say I’m glad you are comfortable enough with me to share this space with you.”

“Well, I mean, it’s your office so it’s not like I have a choice,” I scoffed playfully.

“You do though. You could’ve asked for a transfer to another psychiatrist or could have asked for a seventy-two-hour observation period.”

I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Josh chuckled. “Yes. If you ever felt uncomfortable with me, we could have done one of the two options if you would have preferred.”

I waved my hand dismissively. “Are you kidding me? It took a whole week just to even mention a few bad memories and that was after you brought out a passion of mine. If anything, that would have just brought me three giant steps backwards and that’s not why I’m here. Besides,” my voice dropped a few notches, “I wouldn’t be comfortable with another shrink like how I am with you.”

I waited for the weight of what I admitted to reach him, for him to understand just how much effort it took me to even speak to him when I heard another soft chuckle come out of his mouth.

“Well, it wouldn’t have been easy letting you go anyways so you don’t have to worry about that,” he said quietly and nothing more.

“What do you mean by that?” I challenged him, curious where this would lead us.

He held my gaze as he clicked the pen in his hand—another one of his habits when he sorted out what to say. “What I mean is that I care a lot about you, Fiona.” His voice was low and serious.

I continued to smirk though my heartbeat quickened. “You’re paid to say those kinds of things, Dr. Sullivan. You care about all your patients, I’m sure.”

“No, Fiona. It’s more than that. I care about you as more than my patient. I hope you understand what I’m trying to say,” he said carefully, watching me for a response.

I bit my lip. Maybe he was telling the truth. Was that why he was so different from the rest of them?

“Josh, I…”

“Dr. Sullivan, your next patient is here,” Vickie’s voice chirped through the phone’s intercom, cutting me off.

Josh stood up and held his hand out for me to shake. “Here’s to the next week then? I look forward to continuing working with you, Ms. Sims.”

I was caught off-guard by his suddenly professional tone of voice, even addressing me formally and indicating the conversation was over before it could even begin. I watched as Josh stepped away and Dr. Sullivan stepped into his place. I took his hand, nonetheless, and gave him a coy smile so he knew this conversation was not over in the slightest.

“Same here, Dr. Sullivan.”

Blaine was at the door, ready to escort me back to my room, and I had to admit I did let the handshake linger long enough to feel Josh’s reassuring squeeze. A silent ‘to be continued.’

* * *

Once I was sitting on my own bed, I slipped off my clothes and got into my PJs. My roommate, who showed up a day after I did, was in her own therapy session, so I was alone until dinner. A nap would get my mind off Josh, so I lay down on my crisp sheets and scratchy beige blanket. I closed my eyes and tried to think about something—anything—other than his tousled brown hair and blue eyes. Or the way he smiled at me, displaying his one dimple on the right side. How strong his arms felt around me. How large his hands were next to mine. The stubble on his cheeks when he forgot to shave. How he talked, laughed, and moved about the room. The way he said he cared about me.

Sighing, I opened my eyes, admitting defeat to my restless mind. Did he really mean what he said about caring about me above a patient level? And what did I think about his confession? Was I okay with it?

I must have been since I couldn’t stop thinking about him as more than my psychiatrist. I wondered what he was like outside the hospital walls. What was he like on dates? Was he the gentleman type who opened doors and pulled out seats? Or was he the loud, goofy type who would do anything to make a girl laugh? Imagining him anywhere but in his office was difficult, and from the sound of it, he didn’t go out much anyways.

Still, he seemed more like the laid-back type who would try to hide his nervousness. We would probably go to his place after dinner, playing video games or chatting until the wee hours of the morning. Then he would finally have the guts to kiss me.

Smiling, I realized I was okay with the progression of our relationship. He surely was the nicest guy I had ever met, not to mention how he had treated me better than any of my previous boyfriends. Most guys were curious about my money. How I was able to run such big charity funds in such short time. One guy even suggested maybe I should drop the whole dream of owning my own non-profit and focus on living more for myself, which apparently meant him going out and getting wasted every night and for me to tag along. I kicked him to the curb not long afterwards.

But Josh? He was different. Yet I was constantly reminding myself he was paid to be different. That was something I wasn’t sure how to get over. Was it all merely a part of the job? Or had he tried to say something more back there?

I care about you as more than a patient.

Closing my eyes once more, I made the promise to myself that the next day, I would find out exactly what he meant by those words. No matter what it took, I would get to bottom of not only his feelings but also my own.