Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Three men rush our table all at once, cutting off the conversation.
Logan snaps into celebrity mode, all smiles, signing their autographs. I wonder if the fans can see his tight smile and the strained quality in his eyes.
Once they’re gone, he leans forward, lowering his voice. “What’s say we eat as quickly as we can, then get the hell out of here?”
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Somewhere, you can finally answer my question.”
“Your…,” I trail off, remembering. “Oh right. I never told you why I wanted to be a therapist.”
“That’s right,” he smirks. “That’s why we’re here, after all.”
It’s difficult to hear these very true words after what we just shared, all that sudden closeness.
It’s like he’s reminding me….
Don’t get ahead of yourself. This is still about the job.
Maybe he feels bad about oversharing, where I only want more, every piece of him, just as I want him to take every piece of me.
CHAPTER TEN
Logan
“Are you sure you don’t mind giving me a ride?” she says from the passenger seat.
I glance at her, my emotions trembling as much as my body, every part of me taut, ready to snap when I see the genuine sympathy in her eyes, the shyness, the sassiness, the goddamn Lucy-ness.
I didn’t mean to share so much with her in the restaurant, all that stuff about Anna and Rachael.
Crazily, I wanted to tell her everything right then, especially about Rachael and me, so she would know the truth and wouldn’t have to wonder if she’d be competing with anybody.
Nobody can compete with Lucy, ever.
“Less chance of being recognized,” I say with a smirk. “So, which is it you want to be, Lucy, a therapist or a counselor?”
“I was training to be a therapist, but after what happened to Dad, I don’t know. I mean, one thing is…well, college is expensive. I’ve got so many loans as it is. So I think maybe, if I can return and finish a few key modules, then start work as a counselor, and if I get enough experience with Never Alone too….”
“You will,” I tell her certainly.
That’s the least I can offer her.
But I want to give her more, to give her everything I’m capable of offering.
As we come to a stop at a red light, I tighten my hands around the steering wheel, thinking of her expression when she talked about Maxine Waterson.
What does Lucy think is happening here? Does she think I meet with every would-be counselor for Never Alone?
“It was Dad,” Lucy says softly.
“I’m so sorry, Lucy.”
She waves a hand, looking out the window. Her eyes are getting glassy again, the same way they did in the restaurant, as though she’s on the verge of tears.
I want to comfort her, but I’m still far too aware that, to her, this is casual. We’re getting close, perhaps, sharing a few things with each other. But she has no clue who I really am. She doesn’t know the truth.
She’d run if I told her how badly I wanted her.
For life.
“We’d go to parks when I was a kid,” she goes on as the lights change and I guide the car forward. “And we’d talk about the people we saw. It started as a fun game, but then I got really interested, just crazy about…people, all people. Then, in junior high, I discovered there was an entire job where your purpose was to help them improve, get better, and be who they want to be. I’ve never doubted it since.”
“You must be incredibly empathetic,” I say, thinking of children, of laughing faces turned up toward their mother, then she’ll sweep them into her arms and hold them warmly.
“I don’t know. I guess so. But sometimes, I don’t even know what I’m thinking, let alone other people.”
“Has it always been that way?” I ask.
“It depends,” she says quietly. “Before Dad…I think I was better. But it’s difficult, with his memory so fresh.”
“What about your mom, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“She died in childbirth.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah.”
I can feel her looking at me, but I keep my gaze focused on the road, too certain I’ll kiss her by mistake. And probably end up crashing the car because she’ll taste so damn good.
“Where are your parents?” she asks.
“They live in Ireland,” I tell her. “Moved over when I was in my early twenties. They own a hotel over there.”
You’ll meet them one day, I almost say, before the wedding.
The GPS tells me to take the next right, and soon we’re driving toward Lucy’s neighborhood.
“I didn’t expect a ride home from my interviewer.”
I smirk. “This hasn’t felt like a conventional interview.”
“No,” she smiles. “Not really.”
“It wasn’t the game,” I tell her.
“Huh?”
“The game. With your Dad. I’m not saying it wasn’t special and didn’t nudge you in the right direction. But a person like you, Lucy, you would’ve ended up helping people anyway. It’s just who you are.”