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“No clue.” I feel stupider by the second.

“Does he have an accent? Does he speak well?”

“No accent. He speaks very well.” I meet her eyes again.

“Well, at least you know he has good grammar. That’s something.”

I laugh.

River looks at me, her face scrunches. “What do you talk about?”

“Life mostly. How to deal, stuff like that.”

“Do you know what he does for a living?”

“Yes. He’s a therapist.” River pulls back a little. Her head tilts. I can see her making the connections in her mind.

“Oh, Becca. This guy is the therapist you’ve been talking to. The one helping you with …” She cuts herself off.

“Yeah … I know. It’s dumb.”

“Not dumb. And not uncommon either. He’s helping you. He gives you a sense of worth, he doesn’t ask for anything back, and he’s safe.”

“So, you’re saying that what I’m feeling is not real?”

“Not at all. It’s real. But it is unrealistic. You can’t be in a relationship with a voice. And as much as you feel close to him, he’s just that. A voice.”

All of me rejects what she’s saying. My heart stomps around my chest and throws a tantrum. “But it doesn’t feel like it.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie. But this is good. It’s a step in the right direction. You’re opening yourself up to trust and love.”

“Let me hold on to this fantasy a little longer.” I pout.

“I’m not saying you can’t. But I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t. I know it can never be. I know nothing about his life outside the therapy sessions.” And there’s Dylan, too.

“What about Professor Beckett, though?”

It’s as if she reads my mind. “And then there’s Dylan.”

She reaches for a cookie. “What happened after I left last night?”

“Where do I start?”

“Start from the time he walked into the bar after I left. Leave nothing out. I’ve been patiently waiting for this.” She taps her wrist.

I grab a cookie, chew, swallow. “Okay. So he walked in, took the same seat you had. We talked a little, and then that jerk face turned his attention to me. Dylan looked like he was ready to throw down with the guy, but Gus stepped in.”

“That’s interesting …” She trails off.

“He walked me out, and my car wouldn’t start. He gave me a ride to campus.”

River leans in, eyes wide. “And? Tell me something good.”

“We talked about different things. Riggins, and stuff like that.” I’m not about to tell River all that Dylan shared with me. That’s not my story to tell, and I have a feeling it’s not a story he shares often either. “And he picked me up this morning and drove me to get my car back.”

“Yeah? That’s nice of him. To drive you twice like that.” She wiggles her eyebrows.