Page 82 of Heart of Frost and Scars

Should we wake him? Or let him sleep like a dog on the floor?

The latter is the more satisfying option and the one Leo decides on as he burrows in against her and goes back to sleep.

Guess I’m taking the first watch.

17

Frankie

—

Two days later, I sit across from Dr. Doyle Whitaker, soaking in the sweet, apricot glow of the afternoon.

Oh, how I missed the warmth of sunshine on my face.

The private den makes an ideal spot for therapy, with its rich wood paneling and window views of the Sitka Sound.

Surprisingly, all three Strakh men decided to see Doyle as their therapist. I have suspicions about their easy cooperation, especially after Monty’s tantrum, but whatever.

Since Leo and Monty are still in the gym, they suggested that I take the first session.

Kody waits in the hall, probably leaning against the door with his supernatural senses on high alert. If a salty tear so much as leaves my eye, he’ll smell it and barge in.

I don’t plan on crying.

“This is a safe space.” Doyle reclines in the armchair, his posture inviting and open, his notepad resting on his thigh. “You can share anything with me.”

“I know.”

“If you’re not ready to talk about what happened, that’s okay, too. We can discuss anything you want.”

He only knows what the news is reporting. It’s up to me to talk about Denver’s abuse, Wolf’s death, the plane crash, Monty’s betrayal, my polyamorous relationship with Leo and Kody…all of it. Or none of it.

Sharing those personal things with him would be different than discussing it with detectives and reporters. Outside of this room, the information would be twisted and used against me.

In here, it would be confidential and used to help me heal.

Doyle watches me patiently, his dark hair tousled across his forehead, his hazel eyes softening with professional concern.

I forgot how handsome he is close up. His chiseled jawline and firm lips give him a hard edge, but he has the eyes of an empath, sensitive and gentle, creating an impression of boyish innocence. I know better. He’s a decade older than me.

“Frankie.” The deep tenor of his voice swirls through me, calming my nerves. “What’s on your mind?”

Slowly, I breathe in, then out, my thoughts flitting to the morning I was abducted. Monty needs to talk about that morning as much as I do. If I open the dialogue with Doyle, maybe Monty will do the same, and we can move on with our separate lives.

“I had a miscarriage.” My gaze shifts to the window for a moment before settling back on Doyle. “I was pregnant with Monty’s baby when I was abducted.”

His expression remains neutral, encouraging me to continue.

I walk through the fight about the pregnancy, my decision to leave, the kidnapping, my attempt to escape on the snow machine, and the miscarriage. I include all the relevant details without mentioning Wolf. Making his existence known would open a conversation I’m not ready to have. Not in this first session.

“Have you forgiven Monty for the way he handled the pregnancy?”

“Yes. I think so. But I haven’t forgiven him for the other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“He fucked another woman while I was being held captive by his brother.”

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