16. Sina
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, rattling in the quiet.
“If that’s Jackson texting to ask me to cover another shift, I’m legally allowed to fake my own death, right?”
I rolled over and buried my face in my pillow, ignoring him. It buzzed again. So not a text, a call then. I blindly swiped it off my side table, rolled onto my back, and squinted at the screen.
Sir Nik’s A Lot flashed across it. My stomach deep-dived off a cliff. I stared at his name, thumb hovering over the screen, my heart doing that stupid hopeful flutter I absolutely did not approve of.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
I peeked at Ghost from beneath the covers. He ignored me. Just tucked his nose under his tail like I wasn’t spiraling two feet away. Rude.
Didn’t he care that I was having a full meltdown two feet away?
“Why the hell is Nik calling me at seven in the morning?”
Ghost cracked one eye open at my question.
“I should ignore him, right?”
I shoved tangled hair out of my face and sat up. “Fake therapists don’t get early-morning phone privileges. Especially when they’ve ignored me for a week.”
My throat felt annoyingly tight and my pulse was running laps in my chest. I glared at the still buzzing phone.
“I hate that I want to answer it.” I glanced at Ghost, who was openly watching me now. “Don’t judge me, okay?”
I swiped up and answered the call.
“What do you want, Nik?”
“That’s no way to greet anyone, Sina. And what did I tell you? It’s sir or Dr. Petrelli. ”
“That’s what you’re worried about? Whether I follow some stupid etiquette rule when you're calling me at seven A.M.?” The words burst out of me before I could stop them.
So much for being subtle.
Silence stretched just long enough for me to feel stupid.
“It’s been a week since the warehouse, and you haven’t checked on me at all. Some shrink you are .”
Maybe he forgot he’d faked being my therapist.
I reached for the glass of water on my bedside table—one I didn’t remember getting. I frowned but took a drink anyway. I must’ve grabbed it after my nightmare and been too exhausted to remember.
“You’re right. I should have reached out sooner. How are you?”
The softening in his voice deflated me a little.
I stared at the empty glass in my hand, then pushed the covers back and stood. My apartment was freezing, the hardwood biting into my bare feet as I crossed to the sink and set the glass down with a soft clink.
“Come on, Sina. Tell me what's going on. What have I missed this week?”
I blew out a long breath and threw a hand up in exasperation.
“Well, let’s see. My heater’s broken, I’m freezing my tits off. The nightmares are making it hard to sleep, and I’m starving but there’s nothing to eat.”
I yanked open the fridge, stared at the sad, empty shelves, and slammed it shut.
“Yep. That about sums it up, Dr. Petrelli.”
I rolled my lips between my teeth, bracing myself. Waiting for him to ask if I was done again like last time I’d spiraled on him. When he didn’t… My eyes prickled with unexpected tears.
“Sina.”
My name wasn’t said in irritation. It wasn’t scolding either. And that confused me. I swiped at my eyes with the heel of my hands in frustration.
“What?”
“You’re crying.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Wow. Amazing observation skills, Dr. Petrelli. Ten out of ten.”
“Sina.”
“Don’t ‘ Sina ’ me. And don’t do the calm voice thing either. I’m seriously annoyed at you sir .”
Nik sucked in a sharp breath. Okay, noted. He liked being called sir.
“I know.”
Agreeable Nik made me push harder.
“You don’t just get to disappear for a week and then call like nothing happened.”
“You’re right, ” he agreed. Again .
I blinked. I was? I mean, hell yeah, I was!
He continued before I could build up steam again. “You had a difficult session and were left with questions. I should have checked on you. I apologize. I’ll do better, Sina.”
My throat tightened.
I scrubbed a hand down my face, plopping back down on my bed and pulling the covers up to my chin. I hated that he was apologizing. But even more than that, I hated that I'd easily forgiven him. I was so desperate for attention I was taking the bare minimum.
Ghost padded over and curled up in my lap. Petting him made me feel a little better.
“Your heater. How long has it been out?”
I leaned back against my pillow, staring at the ceiling.
“I don’t know. A few weeks. My landlord said he’d ‘take care of it.’”
“Have you followed up with him?”
I made a face.
“I’d rather lick a subway pole.”
“Sina,” he growled.
I ignored the shiver ghosting over my skin at the way he kept saying my name.
“I’ll text him again, okay? Happy?”
“Marginally. And food,” he continued, like he was building a checklist in his head. “When did you last eat something?”
“Last night?”
“That wasn't convincing.”
I huffed. He sounded like he actually cared.
“Why are you interrogating my fridge situation?”
“Because you listed it as a problem.”
I rolled my eyes, but my chest didn’t feel quite as tight.
“You’re very bossy for a fake therapist.”
Silence.
I narrowed my eyes on the phone. “You're being suspiciously quiet.”
“Come to another group session today.”
I rolled my eyes when he didn’t deny it.
“Why should I?”
“Because you want to see all of us.”
My stomach dipped with butterflies. I hated that he was right. It was on the tip of my tongue to agree when a loud BANG BANG BANG slammed against my apartment door.
I yelped, bolting upright.
At least the knock at the door saved me from answering. Lord knows I would have caved and said yes like a crazy person.