4

I repeat the plan in my head for the hundredth time this morning.

Step one: Go in.

Step two: Convince the therapist to give me the sign-off today and forget the other nine sessions.

Step three: Get the hell out.

It's been nearly a week since the incident that got me sentenced to therapy. I'm sitting in Dr Keller's waiting room. The building's exterior has an old-fashioned gothic fa?ade, but the interior fits the bill of an expensive therapist's practice. Sleek, spotless, and tastefully beige.

The door to his office swings openanddread fills my stomach. I jump at the chance to inspect a murder scene, but talking about my feelings? No thank you.But thanks to Hawkins, this isthe only shot I haveat keeping my job.

Two men walk out of his office: one older, one younger. The older one must be Dr Keller; he's nailing the stuffy psychiatrist uniform of tweed and glasses.

But I watch as he leaves. The younger man looks over, his eyes lingering on me. He can't be much over 30.

Thisis Dr Keller?

He smiles. "Detective Cain?"

I nod, masking my surprise. "Yup. That's me."

"Come on in." He beckons through the door.

When Hawkins described the therapist, I'd imaginedan old manwho never smiles. But this man is not like I pictured.

He's tall, somewhere around 6'3", with thick, dark hair. Neatly dressed in a buttoned shirt, though the lean, defined muscles of his body are still clear beneath the fabric. Strikingly handsome, in a sophisticated way.

Most good-looking guys use their looks to get away with being idiots. My eyes flit to the degree certificates framed on his wall as I walk in; I guess I can't say the same for Dr Keller, PhD.

I take a seat as he closes the door behind us. I'm sure the clean, white surroundings are supposed to calm my mind, but empty spacejustmakes me restless. My eyes drift around the fancy office and settle on the three paintings of landscapes on the wall.

"Uh, you like art?" I ask.

Gee, great small talk, Ava.

He smiles, as if it wasn't a dumbass thing to say. "I do."

For a moment, he sits in silence, observing me. I meet his dark, nearly black eyes againandthere's a sudden, unexpected flicker of intense heat in my core. I clench my fist, willing the feeling to die down.

Is that how screwed up I really am? I've barely dated in years, and then suddenlytheman who makes me feel this is my therapist? I squeeze my knees together, hoping it will extinguish the flame.

He's still watching me in silence. I'm used to being the one doing the interrogating, and the silence is making me antsy.

"Thank you for seeing me on short notice, Dr Keller," I blurt out. "I guess Captain Hawkins told you why he suggested I make an appointment with you."

He grins. It seems too bright and casual for someone with ‘Dr'in front oftheir name. Maybe he wasjustseeing how long I could go without talking.

"No problem at all, Detective. I understand you had an issue with a recent operation. Is that correct?"

"It is." I nod, putting on my bestseriousprofessionalvoice. "I acted rashly, yes. But I know it was a mistakeanditdefinitelywon't happen again."

"I'm sure it won't.But let's discuss what happened insomemore detail so we canmake sureit doesn't.How does that sound?"

Anxiety clenches in my gut at the thought of discussing anything. "Look, Dr Keller—"

"Please, call me Jackson. If you'd like."

I feel a blush creep up along my neckandI silently curse myself. What is wrong with me?

I ignore his offer. "Dr Keller. We both know I'm here because Captain Hawkins is overprotective of his team, and this is just a formality because I made an error ofjudgement. I'd be grateful if you couldjustgive your approval toHawkins today. Then you can get back to your other patients."

"Detective Cain… May I call you Ava?"

The sound of my name in his voice nearly makes me shiver. It's like he's already inching closer, but I prefer to keep people at arm's length.

"I'd prefer ‘Detective'." I sound ruder than I mean to, but he doesn't seemperturbed.

"Detective." Dr Keller meets my stare with another smile. "Here's a deal for you: if we get through this first session and I see no cause for alarm, I'll sign off on you leaving today."

"Okay, then. You've got yourself a deal." I breathe out, relieved. I can seem normal for the next thirty minutes.

"So,tell me what ledto you sittinghere with me today."

"It was a standard operation. We were pursuing a suspect and got into a standoff. Captain Hawkins ordered us to stand down and wait for backup, but Iwent afterhim."

"Why did you do that?"

I clear my throat. "The perp had abducted a child. A young girl. I knew that if we waited for backup, she come to harm."

"But you apprehended him before she was hurt."

I nod. "But I also got stabbed and disobeyed my boss. Hence… I gesture at him.

"You were sent where no cop wants to end up."

I crack a smile. "It was this or a suspension. No offense, Doctor."

"None taken." He leans forward slightly. My eyes linger on his sharp jawline and the dark, thick lashes that frame his sepia-brown eyes. Flecks of amber catch the light. "Why did you go against your Captain's order in this case? Captain Hawkins said you've never had any issues before."

"I don't know."

"Is the endangerment of children something that particularly upsets you, Detective?"

There's a twist of anxiety in my stomach.He'salready inching too close to a topic I don't want to discuss. I save talking about my emotions for when I've had a couple too many drinks with my sisterLily. Even then, there are things I keep locked away. From everyone.

"Look, Dr Keller. I'm not so good at the touchy-feely, talk about your feelingsstuff."

"So you wouldn't say you're an emotional person?You don't often experience overwhelming feelings ofsadness, fear, or anger?

I lift a shoulder in a shrug. "Not at all."

Okay, I'm lying to him. But to get approved today, I need to look like the perfect picture of emotional control.

His lips tug upward. "You need to give me a little more if I'm going to give you the sign-off after just one session. I'm not going to judge you for anything. We're just going to talk. How does that sound?"

I nod, grateful to stop talking about the case for a moment. "Sure."

"Let's go back to basics first. We can get to know each other a bit. Why did you choose to work in law enforcement?"

"Well… I care about justice. I believe there should be some framework that rules our society."

It's true, but I leave out the rest of what drove me to become a detective. A workaholic, obsessive detective who lives at her job.

Because I wanted to redeem myself for what I did.

The quieter, more terrifying voice in my head whispers another thought.

And because I wanted to get as close to the darkness asI couldwithout tipping over into it.

"Are you from Brookhaven originally?"

"Born and raised."

"How's your relationship with your parents?"

"Nonexistent."

"Siblings?"

"My sister Lily. My best friend."

And only friend, aside from Brockatwork. Though he mostly follows me around like a lost puppy.

"Happy upbringing?"

I give a brief shrug. I don't want to lie tohim, but the more I tellhim, the harder it'll be to convincehimthere's nothing wrong with me.

He leans back in his chair, grinning. "Come on, Detective. You can give me more than that."

"It was a… complicated upbringing."

"Look, I get a lot of patients who are afraid of opening up emotionally. If you're concerned I'll be judgmental, don't be. I left my parents behind at seventeen and haven't seen them since."

I raise my eyebrows. "Wow, okay. Aren't therapists not supposed to tell their patients that kind of personal stuff?"

"Every therapist is unique, just like every patient is. But I hope my style works for you, Detective."

"Oh,soyou're a fun, unconventional therapist," I deadpan. "Great."

He laughs. The sound is deep and rich. There's something about Dr Keller—Jackson—that's like looking at the sun. Bright, overpowering, warming in a way that soaks right through your skin.

But I avoid the sun. I live in rainy Brookhaven. I don't need this relentless ray of light illuminating all the secrets I've spent years burying in the dirt.

"I was raised in the foster system," I confess reluctantly. "So not the most idyllic of childhoods, no. But no lasting damage."

Lies.

Dr Keller's gaze suddenly feels heavy on me. "No lasting damage? I don't know if that's true of anyone's childhood."

"Is it not true of yours—" I begin toask,before catching myself. "Never mind, you're not the one on trial here."

"No one is on trial, Detective. This is therapy, not a courtroom."

I ruefully smile. "Right."

Dr Keller's eyes meet mineandI quickly drop my gaze. There's an insistent heat simmering under my skin, and it burns hotter every time he holds my stare.

My eyes move to his hands. Something catches my attention. Dr Keller is the perfect image of sophistication, but his hands are laced with the pale markings of scars. They run across his knuckles and the backs of his hands.

I look up. He's caught me staring, but he doesn't look annoyed.

"Too polite to ask, Detective?"

My face reddens. "Too afraid of being kicked out of therapy."

He shrugs. "Well, the answer is that fight clubs can be very therapeutic."

He chuckles as my mouthfalls open, and I realize he's messing with me.

"Fell off a bike as a kid. Sorry to disappoint you, Detective. But maybe we should dedicate a future session to your suspicious streak."

I can't help but smile back at him. Maybe therapy isn't going to be so bad after all. Dr Keller isn't what I expected, and it turns out that shooting the breeze with him is surprisingly natural.

He glances at his notes, continuing. "What makes you happy, Detective?"

I pause. Something tells me that talking about the joy of investigating brutal crime scenes will give him red flags.

"My motorbike," I offer.

"Has it got a name? I've heard about how you bikers operate."

"Oh, you hang out with a lot of biker gangs?" I deadpan.

His lips twitch upward. "Who do you think got me into the fight club?"

Damnit. I can't help but crack a smile. "I just call her the Stallion."

Okay,sothat's not what I call my bike in my head. I'm not ready to reveal my bike'srealname to him. Scratch that, I'll never be ready to share that particular secret.

We talk a little more about my job. I even tellhima littlemore about the case and how I've felt since, trying to weave a semi-honest picture of emotional maturity.

Dr Keller observes me for a moment before his next question. "Do you have a problem with authority, Detective?"

It catches me off guard. "No. I respect Captain Hawkins, if that's what you're getting at."

His voice is still casual, but there's an edge to it now. "Why did you go against Captain Hawkins' orders to get this particularcriminal?"

"I would've done the same for any criminal."

His eyes flash. "Are you lying to me?"

Wait, what is going on? What happened to just talking?

"I—no." I lean back into the chair, wishingI couldwriggle away from his gaze. "I'm not lying."

The cut on my shoulder was shallow and is already healing over, but Isuddenlyfeelit pulse with pain, as ifit'spunishing me for my dishonesty.

Dr Keller leans forward. The air between us has suddenly turned taut with tension. "I think this criminal triggered something in you. Why was that?"

A blend of irritation and anxiety burns in my gut. "I told you already. It wasn't personal."

"You didn't do it because you wanted to save that little girl?"

"I don't know. Maybe. So what?"

"Did you want to save her because there was someone else you couldn't save?"

His dark, glinting gaze isboringinto me. The question feels like a gut punch. When I saw that glimpse of the girl, I saw my own childhood face. But no one came to save me.

Frustration simmers up in me, nearing a boiling point.

"Can you stop asking me so many goddamn questions?" I blurt out.

"Why? How do they make you feel?"

I narrow my eyes. "Angry, obviously."

"Do you often feel angry, Detective?"

I answer without thinking. "All the time."

God damn it.

I bite my lip, realizing Dr Keller has drawn the confession from me. His eyes are fixed on me, and I feel another flash of heat between my legs.

"You said you don't like talking about your feelings. But you've already taken the first step, and that's the worst part."

"It better be," I mutter. Dr Keller walked me right into opening up tohim,the way I'd trick a perp into confessing a crime.

"Nine more sessions, Detective. There's no get-out-of-jail-free card here. You complete theseto my satisfaction, and I'll give Captain Hawkins my sign-off."

I can't take the easy way out of this, it seems.

"Ava," I mutter in reply. His eyebrows raiseandI continue. "If we're going to do this, then you can call me Ava. Not ‘Detective'."

"Well, Ava. I think that's a good place to wrap up our first session. It's been a pleasure."

He rises to his feet, and I do the same.

I frown at his smiling face as he offers me a handshake. I feel like a raincloud battling against the forceful, insistent power of the scorching sun. His hand closes tight around mine, inching me forward just slightly.

That's when I see it.

It's the most microscopic of twitches on his face.

My throat feels tight, and the air seems to drain from the roomin an instant. Dr Keller is smiling, but the light is gone from his expression.

Now, his eyes look dark.

Dark, deep, and entirely fucking mad.

And, with every inch of my being, I want to fall right into those depths.

On instinct, I bracemyself,as if he's going to drag me toward him.

But he blinksandthe moment evaporates in a second.

I take a deep breathin, shaken by the invisible moment between us.

I say a quick goodbye and hurry out of his office. What the hell was that?

All I know forcertainis that in one session, this man with a stare like sunshine has dugdeeperthan anyone has in years.

And I still have nine more goddamn sessions to go.