Page 153 of Unholy Obsession

Every muscle in my body goes rigid. “I’m not going back to one of those fucking… uh, places.”

“No, no,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “Nothing like that. Just a therapist. Everybody does therapy these days. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

I squint at her, suspicious. “Everybody? Even serial killers? Even billionaires? Even… Batman?”

“Probably Batman needs it the most.”

I consider this, then squeeze her forearms back. “I’ll do it if the therapist isyou. You just started your practice, right?”

She blinks, clearly caught off guard. “Well… there are some ethical considerations. I can’t take on close friends as clients.”

“Perfect. We’re not close friends yet. I just met you.”

“Thanks. Love your bluntness.”

Her eyes flick up and to the left, obviously thinking. I hold my breath without meaning to, already bracing for rejection, for the gentle letdown?—

“I can’t be your therapist, per se,” she says, finally, “but there is some wiggle room if we consider me a life coach.”

I exhale. “Fucking perfect. I like the sound of that way better, anyway. Life coach me, babe.”

“I’m happy to help you get on the right track.”

Then her expression softens, turning serious. “But part of that track might be…” She hesitates again. “As your friend, I can’t ethically diagnose you, but have you noticed certain… um… ups and downs in your moods?”

The Texas heat beats down on us, but her words make my skin go cold. A bead of sweat slides down my spine. Fuck.

“You noticed.” I swallow hard.

I try so hard for no one to ever notice.

“Well,yeah,” she says with maximum side-eye energy.

My mouth drops open.

“Fuck, does everyone know?”

“I mean, I think most people have noticed something. Did you think it was a secret?”

I scrub my hands down my face, groaning. “Well, that’s just fucking fantastic. Might as well put it on a billboard. ‘Welcome to Dallas, home of the Cowboys, the best barbecue, and Moira’s Fucking Unstable Brain Chemistry.’”

“Moira…”

“No, no, it’s fine. I love being predictable. It’s my favorite.”

Kira sighs. “You want to get in the car and talk about it on the way home?”

“Maybe,” I whine.

She grins. “You can do this, Moira. You’re the strongest person I know.”

The only other person to ever tell me that was—Bane. I swallow hard against the grief that makes me want to crumple to the ground at even thinking his name, then blink at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says. Then she tips her head slightly back and forth. “Well, it’s a toss-up between you and MadAnna.” She holds her hands up. “She told me to call her that.”

I give the window of her car a couple of raps before heading to the passenger seat.

“Fair,” I call back as I point over the car at her. “Very fair.”

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