Page 40 of Not In The Contract

“It’s purely psychological,” she explained, “with some influence from external environments. I want to observe the psychology behind the successful mind—the tics, habits, potential flaws. All of it. I want to use it as a foundational basis for building a program to help kids in foster care.”

“How would you go about doing that?” I asked, genuinely intrigued by her research.

“It’s going to take a few years to compile the research points.” She sighed. “But, in theory, I want to build a program that is designed to take the environmental influences on children in foster care into account. So, rather than basing programs on the psychological identity of a child who’s grown up in what most would call a stable environment, I want to develop tools for children without that privilege. Tools to help equip them for success.”

“Do you have any ideas of what those tools would look like?”

“I have so many ideas,” she said shyly. “For now, I’m focusing on therapy programs. It’s a little difficult to flesh them out because each of the solutions involves so many moving parts. We’d need therapists who are trained and specialized in the field, and we have to allow for changes because every child will respond to external stimuli differently. There’s also a matter of budget, both in the private sector and otherwise.”

“It sounds a little daunting.” I frowned.

“It’s felt that way for years.” She smiled. “Every time I think I’m close to the perfect solution, reality smacks me upside the head and reminds me that the real worldreallysucks.”

“I can’t disagree with you there,” I said. “But it’s a noble cause you’ve chosen. I take it that’s what you’re pursuing once you graduate?”

A dark sort of gloom passed over her bright features, her smile dimming for a heartbeat before it slipped away.

“I’m trying to figure out what this looks like as a career,” she answered finally. “Whether it’ll be research-based or whether I get my hands dirty, so to speak, and join the field.”

“As a child psychologist?” I asked, the image of Devon helping kids flashing across my mind’s eye for a brief, confusing moment.

“You can understand why I’m a little hesitant there.” She shrugged. “I can’t exactly keep antsy toddlers waiting.”

I chuckled softly. “Maybe your time with me will train you out of that,” I suggested.

Her face flushed and she ducked her head. “I hope so.”

13. First Day Jitters

Devon

Myalarmshriekedinmy ears, sending me flailing out of bed and scrambling to shut the damn thing off. I rubbed a hand over my groggy eyes, the tiles icy under my ass. I squinted at the time illuminated on my phone and groaned.

It was five in the morning.

I couldn’t remember a time I needed to be awake before seven, but the thought of Alex’s stern glare turning onto me for being late was enough to send me tripping toward the bathroom.

I joined the land of the living a half hour later, my hair damp and my eyes still heavy with sleep.

“Good morning,” Alex greeted, entirely too chipper considering the sun was stillfarbelow the horizon.

“Morning.” I yawned, glancing around the kitchen. “What time do you get up?”

She looked up from her coffee, her eyes frighteningly alert. “Four o’ clock,” she said simply, and I just aboutdiedon the inside. “Although, on the weekends, I sleep in until six.”

“That’s-” I paused, swallowing the words I was about to use. “Very early.”

I wasn’t sure Alex would appreciate being called crazy. At least not in the middle of her first cup of coffee.

“It’s necessary.” She shrugged. “I have a lot to get through every day and sacrificing a few hours sleep here and there isn’t a steep price to pay.”

I nodded, not sure how to respond to that.

Alex saved me from it anyway. “There’s coffee over there,” she said, pointing at the large contraption that I guessed was the coffee machine. She must have sensed my hesitation because she offered, “Just grab a cup and hit the red button on the right.”

I followed her instructions, the scent of expensive coffee helping me wake up just a little.

“I want to warn you before we leave for the office,” she said, and I turned to face her. “Tuesdays are my busiest days. There’s going to be a lot of movement between the office and various sites. You might want to wear comfortable shoes.”