Page 50

For a moment, I almost forget where I am as he and Eve dance around and discuss wedding plans. Almost forget who I am—whatI am. Almost forget the blood on my hands and the threats hanging over our heads.

The smile that’s been tugging at my lips grows wider as Leo continues his excited rambling, listing off increasingly elaborate wedding cake designs and asking if he can wear a bow tie “just like James Bond.”

I stepinto Dr. Stone’s office, and the walls press in closer than usual. The familiar scent of leather and something floral usually provide comfort. Now, they are cloying, suffocating. My footsteps echo against the hardwood floor as I make my way to my usual spot—the oversized leather armchair that’s molded itself to my form over countless sessions.

Christ, I hate this feeling. The heaviness, like someone’s stacked concrete blocks on my ribcage. Ever since our last session, when we delved into the shit with my parents’ death, everything’s felt … suffocating. More real. Like picking at an old scab only to find the wound underneath still bleeds.

I settle into the chair, the leather creaking beneath my weight. The sound reminds me of late nights at the club, the constant ambient noise of bodies shifting on leather seats. At least there, I’m in control. Here? Here I’m just another fucked-up soul trying to make sense of the chaos in my head.

My eyes drift to the degrees mounted on the wall—Dr. Elena Stone’s credentials displayed in neat rows. They mock me with their pristine frames and perfect alignment. How many other broken people has she tried to fix? How many actually walked out of here whole?

My hands grip the armrests, fingers pressing into the worn leather. The wedding’s in a week. Eve’s face flashes through my mind—the way she looked this morning in my kitchen, that almost-smile when she caught me cooking with Leo. Another complication in my already fucked-up life that Dr. Stone will want to dissect.

I inhale deeply, trying to center myself. The air feels thick, weighted with all the things I need to say but don’t know how to voice.

“How have you been, Zeke?” Dr. Stone’s voice cuts through my brooding. She sits behind her desk, pen poised over her notepad, watching me with those shrewd eyes behind her dark-rimmed glasses.

I grunt, shifting in the leather chair. The words stick in my throat like tar. How the fuck do I even begin to explain this mess? That I’m marrying a cop—the same woman I walked away from a year ago without warning. How I walked away to keep her alive after learning she was a cop. Now we’ve come full circle.

“I’m getting married,” I finally say, the words falling flat in the quiet office.

Dr. Stone’s eyebrows lift slightly. “This is new. Would you like to tell me about her?”

I run a hand through my hair, feeling the gray strands between my fingers. Christ, I’m too old for this shit. “Eve. Her name is Eve. She’s…” Beautiful. Strong. A fucking detective who could destroy everything I’ve built. “Complicated.”

“How so?”

My jaw clenches. The sunlight streaming through the window feels too bright, too exposing. “She’s raising her nephew. Kid’s name is Leo. Parents are dead.” I pause, the unspoken truths pressing down on my chest. “She’s also law enforcement.”

Dr. Stone’s pen scratches against paper. The sound grates on my nerves. “That seems to trouble you.”

A harsh laugh escapes me. “Trouble me? Doc, everything about this situation is fucked. Her life is in danger and it’s my fault. Now I’m forced to protect her, and she looks at me like …” The memory of Eve’s wary glances this morning twists something in my gut.

“Like what, Zeke?”

Like she’s trying to solve a puzzle she can’t quite figure out. Like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like she remembers every fucking moment we shared before I walked away, and it haunts her as much as it haunts me.

I lean forward in the leather chair, elbows on my knees, and finally meet Dr. Stone’s steady gaze. “The thing is…” My voice comes out rougher than intended, and I clear my throat. “The thing is, I’ve known Eve for a while. We dated briefly last year.”

“And how did that end?”

“I walked away. Vanished on her.” My fingers clench into fists. “I had my reasons.”

“But now you’re marrying her.”

“Yeah.” I sit back, letting out a long breath.

“I assume she knows about your … connection?” Dr. Stone gives me a pointed look.

I nod. “Despite how fucked up this whole situation is, there’s something about her that—” The words catch in my throat, but I force them out. “She challenges me. Sees through my bullshit. Even now, when she’s pissed as hell about this arrangement, she stands her ground. Doesn’t back down.”

Heat spreads through my chest as I think about Eve in my kitchen this morning, the way she looked at me cooking with Leo. For a moment, something soft had crossed her face, replacing her usual wariness.

“I know it’s fast. But when I see her with Leo—her nephew—how fiercely she protects him, how she’s stepped up to raise him—” I swallow hard. “It feels right. Like maybe this clusterfuck of a situation could actually lead to something real. Something good.”

Dr. Stone’s pen pauses on her notepad. “You sound hopeful.”

“I am.” The admission surprises me. “For the first time in a long while, I actually am.”