Beastly: Sequel to "Mr. Perfect"

Chapter 42: Traumas and Sessions

✨Evan (P.O.V.)

"Mom," I said low enough for her to hear.

She looked at me, surprised.

I pulled her slightly off to the side, away from the others.

"I think this therapy thing..." I paused, glancing around, then back at her. "I think it could work."

"You do?" she asked.

I nodded.

"I mean...we're here, right?" I said. "And if you want to keep going, I'm good to finish the session with you. I think I need to hear everything you have to say. Plus, he already said he doesn't need a computer or tablet for his sessions."

"Honey, are you sure?" she asked. "I know how you feel about all this. I know that talking about feelings, emotions, and the past bothers you."

"Mom, I'm sure. I need to hear and know how you're feeling about us and everything you've been through. I just want to see the whole session so I can know if it's something I'd like to do more."

Mom's expression shifted, shock softening into hope.

"Okay, I'll let Dr. McHolland know," she said.

She turned and walked back over to McHolland, who was now speaking to one of the other staff.

"Dr. McHolland?" she said gently, and he looked up.

"Yes?" he said.

"If it's alright, I'd like to continue our session. If there's any other way we can do it."

"I think that's great, and yeah, we can use the clinic's garden to finish the session."

Mom smiled and looked back at me, hopeful.

I gave her a short nod.

McHolland stepped behind the desk and retrieved a thin leather-bound notebook and a black pen.

Every second we were out there was a second Roberto and DJ had to get the session notes from McHolland's office. Every second I stayed quiet, nodded at the right times, stayed present...was a second I bought us.

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The door to the garden creaked when McHolland pushed it open.

The garden was much smaller than I expected, tucked into a square courtyard between clinic wings. Brick paths wound through benches and potted plants. Everything was neatly maintained, quiet, and peaceful.

It didn't feel like a part of the same building we'd just left behind.

McHolland gestured for us to follow, then led us to a bench near the far wall, where we sat.

McHolland opened his notebook, pen in hand, as he sat across from us.

I told myself to focus on the clock and the job we had to get done in thirty minutes, but I could already feel the session dragging me into places I didn't want to go.

Not today.

Not ever.

"Before the system went down, Dianne...you said something that stuck with me," McHolland said. "That you feel like you're starting to rebuild something...and that Evan showing up today was something you didn't think you deserved."

He paused.

"So I'd like to ask...what would it mean for you, if this became more than just a one-time thing?" he asked.

Mom didn't answer right away.

She looked out across the garden, eyes tracing the path like it could take her anywhere but here. Her fingers gripped the hem of her jacket, and I could see her trying to find the words.