The Therapist Novels & Stories

She is very nice. Moira- coming. My heart races as I ease into a standing position. "I can do this." I lie to myself over and over again. Lisa's therapist friend has a nice small office. She works with two other therapists. Lisa and I go with her to a small cozy room. Mike heads to another room with a male therapist. He smells like a wolf. The couch is comfy deep leather. When you sit in it, you sink into heaven. "Lisa already knows me, but I am Dr. Thomas," the she-wolf says, shaking my hand.

His smile widened and I hated how attractive it looked. Aiden settled onto the couch across from me and stretched one arm along the backrest. Like he belonged here, likr this office was simply another room in his house. I opened his file mostly to give myself something else to focus on. “How are you feeling today?” Aiden stared at me and I stared back. Finally, he sighed. “You ask me that every session.” “That’s generally how therapy works.” “You never mean it.” I blinked. “What?” His gaze remained fixed on me. “You ask because you’re supposed to.”

“Oh my baby girl! I understand you feeling bad because you are married but left for me, I will tell you to continue just to feel happy but since you want to let things go, why don’t you go for therapy maybe you will be free to open up to a total stranger.” “A therapist..why didn’t I think of that.” “That’s why you have me, I know a good one, his name is Dave Whales, he is really good, we can book you an appointment but in return, tell me more about the night of sin.” “You are silly..okay fine I will tell you some.” * I decided to check up on the therapist online and damn, “He is super hot..” I remained on his page, how can a therapist be this hot?

“Have a seat. We’ll call you in shortly.” They sat down quietly at each sides. Azxel’s knee bounced once, then stopped. His hands stayed clenched in his sleeves. Jaelen watched him from the corner of his eye but didn’t speak. A door opened. “Azxel?” He stood immediately. The therapist’s office was warm in a deliberate way with soft lighting. Two chairs angled toward each other. A bookshelf full of titles about trauma, dissociation, identity, recovery and many others. The man smiled kindly. “I’m Dr. Ash. You can sit wherever you’re comfortable.”

Meanwhile, the witch—who clearly needed anesthetics for that frozen face—was glaring at me with eyes I desperately wanted to stab using her own manicure. “You’re… interesting,” she commented, though her tone didn't fit what she meant to say. “I’m more than interesting, lady,” I replied, nodding with the same mockery she’d served me. “Diana,” the asshole chuckled. “This is Rachel Clairemont. My therapist.” Therapist? What kind? The kind who taught him to breathe out a calming "whoosah" after a mind-blowing BJ? Or the hands-on type who gave VIP demonstrations on how to cha-cha with nothing but hip control?

I nodded, then looked at the young man who had been standing silently since he came in. “Oh! Sorry Mr Nart! This is my Co-worker and he is a professional Therapist. Before we decide which treatment will be okay for Miss Merina, I think She will need a therapist, so I brought along my colleague. We also work together on lots of successful cases.” She said, introducing me to the young man who looked to be in his 20s. I nodded and shook his hands and then asked the question that had been bothering me.

It suffocates me. Is this how I'm going to be living now? The therapist walks in. A woman obviously in her mid-forties, short blonde hair, well framed glasses, and a white pantsuit. "Hello Rosie." She wears a calm smile and takes her seat directly opposite me. "I'm Mrs. Abrams and I'm here to listen." Here to listen like you aren't getting paid for being a professional. I once overheard Dominic and Xylus talking about the number of degrees she has acquired in her career and in psychology.

That shit was a No from me, but my feelings changed the moment I caught that asshole therapist making a beeline for the back, his hurried like a damn hurricane on a mission. I pushed through the few people still partying, giving nods to a few familiar faces, ignoring the fake-ass smiles and sugar-coated greetings. My eyes zeroed in on Raine, sitting right in the middle of that circle. Tyler grinned like an idiot next to her while Chloe whispered in her ear. My eyes returned to that fucked up therapist, slithering closer to Raine. Hell. No. I walked up just as he was settling in. I didn’t even think before I spoke. Words were already flying out of my mouth before I could stop them.

I just hoped that Nathan had the same sentiments after today. Nathan was beside me, his hand enveloping mine as if he could squeeze away my apprehensions. It wasn’t our first time discussing our issues with someone else, but doing it with a therapist instead of a friend was a lot different—more official, to put it plainly. The door opened, and the therapist walked in. She was an older woman with short blonde hair and an official, yet warm, look about her. “Hi, I’m Dr. Lewis. You must be Olivia and Nathan. Why don’t you two come in and take a seat?”

Penny inquired, her curious gaze remaining fixed on her. Penny was her therapist, and after detailing what she felt was wrong with her to the psychologist at the hospital, he wanted to assign her to a therapist, but she told him she already had one. He then told her to begin her session, and that's what she did two weeks ago, and she had been coming at least three times a week.