Deadly Alliances

Chapter 21: Tickle

Song: Trying My Best - Anson Seabra

Juliette's POV

One Month Later 

Once again, I found myself sitting across from Dr. Charles Wienster.

"Hello, Juliette," Dr. Wienster greeted me.

I simply nodded and pulled the sleeves of Flynn's hoodie over my knuckles.

"I apologize for the way I behaved the first time we met. That was unprofessional of me," he said. "I hope we can move on from that."

I nodded again, still giving him a glare.

"So what changed your mind and made you want to meet again?" he asked curiously.

I considered not telling him. I wanted to call the whole thing off until I remembered what Flynn said before we left the house.

Flynn had helped me zip my coat up and said, "Just try it, please. If you don't like it, we won't go back."

So, alas, I sighed. "My husband made me come back."

"Why?"

It still stung to say it. It hurt like hell because I didn't want to admit it yet.

"One of my best friends died."

"I'm sorry for your loss," he consoled. "How are you dealing with that?"

I shrugged slightly, shaking my head. "I don't know. I, uh ... I drink hot chocolate with my husband."

"Does that help?"

"Yeah," I told him. "My mom used to make hot chocolate for me."

"Does drinking the hot chocolate help you miss your mom and friend any less?"

I hesitated, hating how my throat got tighter and my eyes stung from unshed tears. "I think so."

"Tell me about them. About your mom and friend."

I took a deep breath. "My mom was a very loving person. She adored me and my brother. She doted on us whenever she saw us. We never left her house hungry or upset. She wouldn't let you leave until you were the happiest that you could be."

Dr. Wienster let me breathe before asking, "And what about your friend?"

"Dylan was strong and brave. Very intelligent. She was so dedicated to her job and her son. She worked hard to become one of my father's top soldiers and earn his respect. Dylan was a bridesmaid at my wedding and she helped me feel better when I was nervous."

I wiped away a stray tear that escaped. Fuck. I was trying to be better.

Dr. Wienster wrote something on his notepad, which made me anxious.

"Whatcha writing?" I asked.

He chuckled. "Just taking notes. It helps me remember things."

What does he need to remember?!

Thirty minutes later, I walked out of the therapy room, rolling my shoulders. Flynn stood in front of the check-in desk, throwing a glass ball in the air.

"Don't break anything," I said softly, catching his attention.

Flynn immediately put the glass ball back on the check-in desk and shoved his hands in his pockets. "How did it go?"

I sighed while trying to stay positive. "It was good. We had good conversation."

"Nice, nice," Flynn replied.