Page 92 of The Ones We Fight For

“I think there would be a conflict of interest there.”

“Feeling a little conflicted, are we?” He taunted, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand.

“I think we should maybe not touch.” Talia slipped her hand out of his and maneuvered to the other side of the couch, clasping her hands in her lap.

Walker winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make it weird.”

Talia bit her lip and slowly shook her head. She didn’t realize the lip biting thing always made everything so much worse. She was completely unaware of how adorable it was. No, screw adorable; it was sexy as hell, and Walker wished he was right back in that bedroom with Talia before Carter had rudely interrupted them. It was truly shocking how fast his brain could go from thinking about therapy to picturing Talia on her hands and knees. He should probably dive into his morals and lack of common decency at therapy, too.

“It’s not that it’s weird to touch you, I just can’t really deal with that when we aren’t allowed to go there. It feels like you’re messing with me.” Talia looked down at her feet.

“I’m not meaning to!” Walker said at a decibel too loud for intimate conversation. Awkwardly clearing his throat, he looked around the coffee house to see if he had disturbed anyone. A few people had looked up from their drinks, but they returned to their mundane Monday mornings a second later. “I just don’t want to lose you, but I realize that trying to hold onto you like you’re mine to begin with is fucked up, so I’m not expecting you to wait for me while I figure it out.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Talia stood up from her seat.

“Tal, I’m just saying you don’t have to wait!”

“God, Walker! This is ridiculous. We’re friends, right? So that means I can tell you when you’re blind as a bat. Because you are! The best part is, you won’t even let me say it! It’s like you don’t want me to!” Talia walked over to the trash can and shoved her chewed stir stick through the opening, setting her used mug on the rack full of dirty dishes. Walker watched in stunned confusion as she gathered her purse and sweater from the coffee table. “Let me know when you figure it out. I’ve got a lot of work to do today. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Without another word or even waiting for a confirmation, she turned on her heel and left him staring after her.

Walker pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to figure out where exactly he had gone wrong. Aggressively flirting with Talia was a start, but he had a hard time not doing that when he knew what it felt like to have her moving against him. Even though they were fully clothed at the time, it was enough to make his brain work in overdrive, calculating the time it would take him to be right for her so they could do it again. He knew by the way her body reacted to his that she was attracted to him, so he might have been laying it on a little thick. Holding on to that attraction was his only move. Eventually, Talia was going to move on when he couldn’t figure out his life. He couldn’t blame her. She had a right to.

“More shit to talk about in therapy, I guess,” Walker grumbled and threw back his coffee mug, draining the rest of it with one swallow.

Chapter 34

Walker

Walker sat in a cracked-leather armchair across from another one that looked like it belonged in a library from the 1800s. The cherry oak desk to his right, in front of a bay window lined with green potted plants, was piled with neat stacks of rainbow-colored file folders, each stack color-coded. Walker attributed the different colors to indicate the severity of the case, ranging from red (this person may actually end up murdering someone in cold blood at some point) and green (all clear of debilitating diseases and the propensity to murder.) He always wondered which color labeled him as stressed, depressed, and an all-around mess. Blue seemed like a likely option.

Unfortunately, by the time Walker arrived, Dr. Thomlinson usually had everything set up already, his usual heavy weighted pen in his weathered left hand and a metal clipboard perched on his knee, no colored folder in sight. Walker swallowed his nerves, drying his sweaty hands on his knees. He thought at some point he would get used to coming after a session or two, but every time, he had to slowly ease back into the conversation or his fight-or-flight response would scream at him to cut and run.

Dr. Thomlinson wrote something down on his clipboard and glanced down at his watch before looking up to meet Walker’s gaze. Dr. Thomlinson’s eyes were always kind and understanding. After six sessions of dealing with Walker’s bullshit, he knew the state of duress Walker was under just by being there.

“You seem a bit more on edge than usual today, Mr. Hartrick.” When Dr. Thomlinson spoke, it felt like Walker was talking to someone who held him in the highest regard. From minute one, he had addressed Walker by his last name, with an air of respect that matched the doctor’s Southern drawl and inviting personality. It felt a bit strange, given that Dr. Thomlinson had degrees and awards framed on the walls of his office while all Walker had was anxiety.

“I guess I am,” Walker admitted, the frog in his throat bogging down.

“Did something happen to cause this? Or is there something I can do to make you feel more relaxed?”

Walker thought for a moment, debating how much he wanted to share. “I got in a dispute with my—with a friend.”

“Am I right in assuming that this friend is Talia?” Dr. Thomlinson looked through his reading glasses at his clipboard as if to check Walker’s admission against notes from prior sessions.

“Yes.”

“The one you’re in love with?”

“Oh.” Walker blinked. “Uh, yeah, technically.” He was mildly embarrassed to admit to being in love with someone of whom he was unworthy.

“All right, let’s circle back to that.” Dr. Thomlinson set his clipboard on the arm of his chair and crossed one leg over the other, folding his hands in his lap. “You seem a little uncomfortable with that topic of conversation at the moment, and I don’t want to pry it out of you. What about your anxiety? Have you been practicing the breathing and grounding techniques we talked about? Taking your medication?”

“Yeah, I have. They work.” Walker nodded, loosening up in his seat a little at the thought of having accomplished something.

“Any panic attacks since the last session?”

“No. I had a brief attack once when I was at a PTA meeting for Pearl’s school and everyone kept looking at me with pity eyes, but then I used the grounding techniques, and Talia came and sat next to me. It helped.”

Dr. Thomlinson hummed appreciatively. “Good, good. I do have some questions if you’re ready for them. We previously talked about your relationship with your father and how that has impacted your self-worth, correct?”

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