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“That smile concerns me.”

“It is just my face.”

“Your face usually insults me before it looks like that.”

I shrug, trying to look bored.

“Maybe I thought of something that might make me feel better.”

Joanna’s gaze narrows slightly. “Something safe?”

“Define safe.”

“Maksim.”

I sigh, theatrically, and let my head fall back against the couch.

“You make everything less fun.”

“My goal is to keep you alive and sane.”

“I hate that those are apparently your only standards for me.”

“They are not my only standards.” Her voice softens. “But today, they are important ones.”

The warmth in it catches me in the ribs, and I look away before she can see my face change.

“Fine,” I say. “I’ll go home. I’ll apologize to Lucas because he deserves an apology and I’ll try not to murder anybody.”

“Or destroy anyone’s property.”

I glance at her.

She holds my gaze.

For one second, I wonder if she can actually read thoughts. Then she picks up her notebook and tears out a page.

“I want you to write down three things before you go to sleep,” she says. “One thing you feel. One thing you need. One thing you can do tonight that will not make tomorrow worse.”

“That is disgustingly responsible.”

“I know. You may complain about it while doing it.”

I take the paper from her, crumpling it slightly in my fist.

“One feeling,” I mutter. “One need. One boring, morally acceptable activity.”

“One action that keeps you safe,” Joanna corrects.

“Same thing.”

She stands, signaling the end of the session.

I rise too, slower than I mean to. My body feels depleted now that I have spent fifty minutes holding it together. The anger is still there, burning low beneath my ribs, but so is something else.

A strange, hollow relief.

At the door, Joanna says my name.