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“I know you feel coerced to be here—”
“Feel? I am coerced. But let’s get it over with,” I said.
“This is your time, Hunter. This is for you to use however you wish.”
What I wished was to kiss that sublime mouth. I wondered how she’d respond if I told her that. Would I get more than an impassive non-reaction?
“I think I’m supposed to work on not getting angry,” I said instead.
“Okay. Why don’t you tell me what makes you angry?”
“It might be easier to tell you what doesn’t make me angry.” I sat back, crossing my ankle over my knee in what I hoped looked like a relaxed and unconcerned manner, even though on the inside, I was scared to death she’d see straight through to my flawed soul.
“Have you been angry today?”
“I’m always angry.”
“Why don’t you tell me about the last time your anger got away from you,” she said in that same even-keeled voice. Did she ever get angry or annoyed? Was she able to maintain that level of disinterest in her voice when she did?
“I suppose it was Friday when my brothers cornered me in here with you.”
“You felt cornered?”
I frowned. “What would you call it?”
“It doesn’t matter what I’d call it. What matters is how you felt. What you thought about it.”
“Betrayed.”
Her brow quirked up slightly at my description. I guessed she hadn’t expected that.
“You felt betrayed by them.”
I nodded.
“What about it felt like a betrayal?” she prodded me.
I shrugged so she’d think I didn’t give a fuck about what my brothers did to me. “Chase could have talked to me privately. They could have all talked to me privately. They didn’t need to air my dirty laundry to you.”
“Would you have listened to them?”
Hell no. “We’ll never know, will we?”
“When you realized what was happening, how did you feel? Not emotionally, but in your body.”
Now we were getting somewhere if we were going to be talking about bodily responses. I wondered what she would think if she knew I’d jacked off to mental images of her the last three nights.
“Irritated.”
She nodded like a teacher letting me know I was on the right track. “How did that manifest physically? Did you feel hot? Did your heart race?”
“I felt like every neuron in my body was loaded and cocked.”
“Do you mean you wanted to strike out at your brothers or that you felt pressure, like you might explode?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Both?”
“Yes.” I rolled my shoulders, trying to keep the tension from building. The sooner I could show her I had control, the sooner I could stop these sessions and move on to a more interesting type of therapy with her.
“Have you ever struck out or exploded?”
“With my brothers?” I asked.
“Yes, or with anyone?”
“No.”
She cocked her head, her hazel eyes studying me and making want to squirm in my seat. Could she see my inadequacy? I liked her spunk, but I didn’t like that I wasn’t in control of what was going on in this room.
“Your brothers suggest that something has changed in the last few months. Would you agree with that?”
I looked away, hating that she was putting me on the defensive. “I suppose.”
“What’s changed?”
I shrugged. There was no way I was going to tell her about Sara.
She sighed, giving me the first sign that perhaps I was getting a response from her. I wanted to ask her how that felt in her body. Was her heart rate going up? Would she be opened to my making her heart race from something other than irritation?
“When you start to get angry, what do you do to manage it?” she finally asked.
“Workout.”
“Exercise. Like running?”
“Running, hitting the punching bag, lifting weights.” I looked at her pointedly. “Fucking.” I was pretty sure I saw a quick flash of something in her pretty hazel eyes at my last word.
“Does it work?”
“I’d be happy to let you come home with me for a personal session, and you can find out.”
Her stare was blank. She inhaled a breath that was probably to calm herself. I’d rather turn her on, but annoying her would work too.
She sat back watching me, and for a moment, I felt like I was a child and my mother was looking at me in disappointment. I didn’t like that feeling.
“Are you happy in your life, Mr. Raven?”
My jaw tensed. “Happy enough.” Considering I’m scared emotionally and have a dysfunctional family.
“So, you’re okay that your family is worried about you—”
“They’re worried about what I’ll do to hurt the reputation of the company.”
“That you fuck a different woman every night—”
“Not the last three nights,” I said, surprised at her using the word fuck.
“That you can’t escape the horrors that you saw in the war.”
I stood as hot energy built, needing an outlet. “You don’t know anything about it.”
“You’re not the first veteran I’ve talked to. Their experiences may vary, but they all say they can’t escape the images and pain of what they saw. Why do you suppose so many avoid getting help for that?”
