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“How so?”

“They can manifest as self-destruction, isolation, even resistance.”

“Resistance to what?” Unable to hide a scowl, I cross my arms. “To you?”

“Resistance to healing.”

“Oh, so you have the cure for that, do you?” I let out a mocking laugh. “That’s a good one.”

“Not a cure. A method.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

He nods, as if he understands. “Will you close your eyes for me?”

“Why?”

“Please, indulge me for a moment.”

Hesitation takes hold, but his patience lasts until my eyes flutter shut.

“Good,” he says. “I want you to think back to last night. You’re standing on the cliff. Tell me what you feel.”

Tilting my head back, I’m torn from the settee and thrust onto the icy ledge. “Snowflakes. They’re falling on my cheeks. I should be cold, but I’m not anymore.”

“Why aren’t you cold?”

“I’m not sure. The waves bring me comfort. I just feel…”

“Describe it.”

“I feel numb, and a…a sense of peace.”

“Let’s go back. Now you’re walking through the snow. What are you thinking about?”

“Sebastian.” His name escapes, raw on my tongue.

“Keep going,” he urges.

“I feel his ghost watching me.” Grief crushes my heart all over again, and my eyes pop open. “I don’t want to do this.”

Dr. Price studies me, peeling away my defenses, layer by layer. “You’re still standing on that cliff, Novalee. Even in this room.”

A blink sends hot drops down my face. “I don’t want to be.”

“Are you sure? Because you did try to jump, did you not?”

I should be indifferent, not crying in front of this man. But his questions cut deep, carving out every flimsy excuse.

“I don’t know why I did it. I just wanted to stop hurting so much.”

“What if I told you I have a way for you to let go of the pain?”

“I’m all ears, Doctor.” Sarcasm coats my words, but deep down, I want to believe there’s a way.

His focus sharpens, latching on to the fraying threads of my resolve.

“I’d like for you to explore the concept of delayed gratification.”