Page 51 of Double Puck

This time, I'm almost positive the corner of her mouth moves.

"But you feel like you're supposed to dislike her."

"Exactly!" I lean forward, relieved somebody finally understands the fucking problem. "She's trying to trade me. She follows me around. She judges my life choices."

"And yet?"

"And yet..." I blow out a breath, looking toward the ocean. "I don't know. When I'm with her, I'm not thinking about Dad. Or Mom. Or Declan knowing about the affair. I'm not thinking about any of it." I pause, because apparently I've decided honesty is contagious. "I'm just thinking about her."

Poppy studies me for a moment. "Maybe that's okay."

My gaze comes back to hers.

"You're allowed to enjoy something good happening in your life while something difficult is happening somewhere else. And maybe you don't need to know what to say to your father yet." She sets her notepad aside. "You can give yourself some time, Beck. With him. With Darcy. You don't have to decide what either relationship means today."

Well.

That's surprisingly fucking reasonable.

"Huh." I settle deeper into the ridiculously comfortable chair. "You know, Doc, I thought therapy was going to involve considerably more homework than this."

"Sorry to disappoint you."

"Does this mean I can go kiss Darcy again?"

"It means we're making progress." Poppy reaches for the bowl and tosses me a gold-wrapped chocolate. "Now off you go, same time next week."

I catch it against my chest, grinning when I see the smallest laugh finally escape her.

Holy shit.

I made Buddha laugh.

By the time I pull into the mansion driveway, I've eaten Poppy's ridiculously expensive chocolate and decided therapy might not be complete bullshit after all.

I don't have to call Dad today. I don't have to figure out what the hell is happening with Darcy either.

Apparently, I'm allowed to just enjoy something good for once.

So naturally, I park the Bronco crooked next to Declan's pristine Range Rover because his eye twitch feeds me, and shove through the front doors.

"BECK!"

A brunette missile hits me at full sprint. Zoey wraps her arms around my neck, her legs around my waist, and the momentum takes us both down onto the rug.

Biscuit loses his shit. Barking, spinning in circles, one ear up and one flopped, fully convinced this is either the best game ever invented or a home invasion worth dying for.

"Hi, Zo."

"I missed you, you absolute idiot."

"You're crushing my spleen."

"Good. Builds character."

She climbs off me, then does the thing. The Zoey thing. Grabs my face with both hands and studies it like she's reading fine print.

"Okay. What's wrong?"