25. Cohen

I sent a noncommittal text about my plans for the weekend—I was hoping to surprise her—and clicked back to the picture of the business cards she sent me. All three had heart-shaped rainbow stickers on them, I assumed meaning the therapists were good for the LGBTQ+ community.

Despite the fact that I was looking at counselors for my kid because I couldn't help him, I felt relieved. When Ollie's grandparents learned about his sexual orientation, their first suggestion was to send him to conversion therapy. An idea my ex had entertained.

I didn't put my foot down on much, but that was one thing I would never allow my son to go through. I knew what it felt like to be considered bad just because of who you were or where you came from. I'd never allow Ollie to be put through the same experience if I could help it.

Sure, the world could be a mean place. There were a few friends I had to set straight when it came to homophobic slurs, and there were a few shows I couldn't stand watching anymore because now I understood just how hurtful dialogue was. But I would make our lives as safe as possible for Ollie's sake.

I typed the number from the first card into my phone and called. That therapist didn't have an opening for months.

The next number I called went to voicemail. But on the third, someone picked up. By the time the call was over, I had an appointment made for four o'clock on Thursday afternoon. I wasn't sure how Ollie would react, but I had to make him see that I was only doing this because I cared for him. I wanted him to talk to someone... even if that someone wasn't me.

With that done, I got back to work. I needed to prepare my books before sending them to Jonas. Even though I'd hired him for accounting services, I still liked to take a hands-on approach to finances at the bar and make sure everything ran smoothly.

Time seemed to fly by. I could have worked like this for hours if it weren't for my phone ringing.

Linda's name was on the screen, so I snatched it up and answered as quickly as possible. "Hey, Linda. Any word from the owners?"

"Not great," she said. "With all the repairs they have to do, they'll be taking a loss selling it at this price. It's looking like they're going to keep it as a rental property."

My heart sank, puddling in the bottom of my stomach. I'd been so sure that house was the one. And honestly, I was tired of looking. Tired of getting my hopes up only to be let down.

"We'll find the house that's right for you and Ollie," she said. "Maybe it'll be helpful if he gets to come to the showings."

"He has school and homework. There's not a lot of free time for us in the afternoons."

"Weekends?" she suggested.

"He's with his mom." My eyes prickled, and I pinched the bridge of my nose. That basically left me two choices. Keep looking on my own and piss off my son, who was already struggling, or put extra pressure on him to finish his schoolwork.

"We can keep going with just the two of us?"

I let out a sigh. From the tone of her voice, we both knew that wasn't a good idea. "Let's start looking again in the summer. Sorry, Linda."

"Don't apologize," she said, as sweet as ever. "Take this time for you and Ollie to figure out what you really want. And come the end of May, I'll be calling again."

"Thanks, Linda," I said and hung up the phone.

* * *

It took a little compromise and negotiating from both me and his mom to get Ollie to agree to see a therapist. In the end, Audrey and I both swore we would keep the therapy between the three of us—even though we both told him it was nothing to be ashamed of—and that after three months of weekly therapy he could stop going if he wanted to.

Still, I could tell he was nervous when he got into my car Thursday after school.

"Are you ready for this?" I asked.

He shrugged, not meeting my eyes.

"I'll be with you for the first appointment and every one after if you want me," I reminded him. "But I think it'll be great. Birdie said this gal's one of the best."

"Birdie?" Ollie said.

"Ms. Melrose," I corrected myself. "She was the one who sent me the recommendations."

"So she knows I'm crazy. Great," Ollie muttered. "What happened to the three of us being the only ones to know?"

I frowned. "I didn't tell her I made you an appointment. I only asked who she thought was best. You know you're not the only one who's ever needed to talk to someone."

Ollie met my frown with a scowl. "Who said I needed to talk to someone? Huh? You're the one who forced this on me."

Yet another ding in my dad suit of armor.

"I'm not arguing with you," I said, gripping the wheel tighter. "Especially right before therapy."

This might have been hard for him, but I also knew his childhood would likely come up in session. And that scared the hell out of me. I knew I had never been a perfect parent—hell, I had a lot of shitty examples growing up—but I loved him with all I had. With the mother I had, I knew love didn't make up for every sin.

She had loved me. I believed that. It just wasn't enough.

We pulled into the parking lot of a simple brick business complex and got out of the car, not saying a word to each other. The receptionist checked us in, and soon we were sitting on a couch—as far away from each other as possible.

The room was nice, dimly lit with a small, soothing water feature in the corner. I couldn't help but notice the tissue box within reach or the diffuser making the scent of eucalyptus fill the small space.

Cecilia Johnson sat across from us in a plush chair, holding a notebook. "Tell me," she said, "why are you here and what are you hoping to accomplish?"

Ollie sent me a withering look. "Ask my dad."

I leaned forward, wringing my hands. I felt just as nervous as I had on my wedding day. As nervous as I had filing for divorce at the courthouse. "I'm worried about Ollie, and I want to make sure he has someone to talk to."

Cecilia nodded, making a note in her legal pad. "And what worried you, Cohen?"

"A few weeks ago, he really shut down, and when I checked his grades, those were slipping too."

Cecilia nodded. "Do you have anything to add, Ollie?"

His lips pressed together, and I could practically feel anger radiating off him. "Why do I have to tell my dad every feeling? Maybe I wasn't talking because I didn't want to."

"And why didn't you want to?" Cecilia asked, cutting straight to the quick. I liked her already.

Ollie paused, looking at his hands. He kept picking at loose skin with his nail, making a soft clicking sound. "Because I was embarrassed."

I'd expected anything but that. I thought he'd tell her he hated me. That he wanted nothing to do with me. That he would stay with his mom full-time and see me on the weekends instead.

But this was an even worse punch in the gut. Why would Ollie be embarrassed about something? Especially when it came to me?

Cecilia leaned in, a caring expression on her face. "Ollie, if you're willing to, you can speak privately with me. I am only required to share information if you ask or if there's a threat of harm to you or someone else or if I'm subpoenaed by the court on a criminal case."

Ollie looked from me to Cecilia and let out a sigh. "I promised my parents I'd try."

Cecilia's small smile matched my own. Taking my cue, I stood and told Ollie I'd be outside whenever he was ready. For the first time in a while, I felt like I had a win.