Page 10 of Dreamscape Therapies

“He mentioned that you’re his couples therapist.”

Jay rolls his eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t fall out of his skull and skitter across the rug. “I’m not a couples therapist.”

“Really?”

“Without going into too much detail, all I can say is Eric saw a video that said something about couples who go to therapy together stay together longer. He’s convinced that if they see someone before they have problems, then they’ll be together forever.” He throws his hands up in exasperation. “I keep trying to tell him that that’s not what I do, but you know how he is. Once he gets an idea in his head, good fucking luck talking him out of it.”

“Yeah,” I snort. “That sounds exactly like something he would do.”

Jay’s smile is warm and annoyingly at ease. “But I am still glad he convinced you to come.”

I look at him then. Really look at him. At those big brown eyes behind those ridiculously large glasses. The slightly unruly hair. The earnest expression. The stupid sweater vest. He’s so young.

Too young to be the person I’m pinning all of my hopes on.

“Do you really think you can help me? Or am I completely fucked?”

He laughs, even as his expression softens. “I don’t think you’re fucked at all. I think, given enough time, we can find out why you’re not sleeping and return you to a normal sleep pattern.”

“How much time? Weeks? Months?” I pause, horror rolling through me. “Years?” I whisper the last part.

That earns a boisterous laugh. “No, not years. It depends on what we’re dealing with, but I think we can get this figured out in as little as a few months.”

“That’s encouraging,” I mutter under my breath.

He reaches for a stack of papers. “Here’s my contract. It explains how our therapeutic relationship will work.”

“Relationship,” I grunt in a mocking tone.

“Our therapeutic relationship,” he presses, a blush starting at his neck and creeping upward.

Well, isn’t that adorable.

I barely bit back my smile.

Jay adjusts his glasses and looks very intently at the paperwork as though it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

I take the stack of papers from him and skim over it. It’s mostly legal jargon designed to protect his ass if I don’t magically emerge from this process cured and well-rested. I sign where it’s indicated I do so with yellow tabs, and shove the papers back toward him.

“Okay,” he says as he pulls a calendar out from the bottom of the stack of pages. “I have Evergrove Construction coming in two days. They should have this room finished by…” He tilts his head side to side, mentally calculating. “Next Thursday, I think. We could start your appointments then. Same time as today?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, let’s do daily appointments excluding the weekend, obviously.”

I lean against the back of the couch. “So I just show up, take a nap while you creep around in my dreams, and boom. I’m fine?”

“Not exactly how it works, but I guess that’s close enough,” he laughs.

I can’t help smiling.

Even though I have another week of nightmares and exhaustion, the thought of seeing my pretty therapist every day has me at least a little excited.

You can’t fuck your therapist.

I stare at the ceiling.

I mean… I could, but I probably shouldn’t.