3
Jett
The drive to Havenwood isn’t terrible. Luckily, most of the interstate traffic is on the east side.
I arrive in front of the tall, gray building right off the corner of the town’s square. Okay, saying it’s tall is a bit much. It’s a three-story building. But I most definitely take the stairs to the third floor. I’ll be staying far, far away from elevators for the foreseeable future.
The sweet lady from the phone—Willa—looks to only be in her mid-thirties, but she gives off some seriously strong nurturing vibes. Her small talk about the town’s happenings helps keep my anxiety at bay as she leads me to a large office space with couches, beanbags, a desk, and a massive window that looks out toward River Haven Ranch. It isn’t a fully functional ranch anymore—too much development nearby—but someone is out ground working what must be part of the newest training group of horses.
From what my brother Reece has told me, a new group of training and sale horses comes in about this time every year, and the two brothers who run it stay busy. I’ve only crossed paths with Drew and Declan a time or two, but I trust my brother that they are decent people. I doubt he’d still be working for them after five years if they weren’t.
“Kristen is just taking a phone call and then she’ll be right in with you,” Willa says before stepping aside for me to pass through.
I just nod and give a weak “thanks” before sitting on the couch closest to the window. I slip out my phone, using the reading app to pick up where I left off in my latest romance read. The main character just found out her love interest was keeping his true motives from her, and she’s struggling with the discovery.
I can relate.
I’ve made zero progress—reading the same passage…er, sentence multiple times—when a cute, petite lady waltzes in. She has to be about my age, with white-blonde hair and the palest-blue eyes I’ve ever seen. The smile on her lips lights up every part of her being. It’s as if her happiness radiates throughout the room and is trying to sink into me through my pores. She approaches me with calculated steps, moving slowly as if closing in on a scared animal. Probably not an inaccurate comparison.
“Hi there. Jett, right? That’s what you prefer?”
I nod, trying to find my words without throwing all my brain spam at her simultaneously. “Yes, please,” I say, clearing my throat. “I hate my given name too much to use it on the regular.” I mentally chastise myself for blabbing. This lady doesn’t need my internal monologue.
“Nice to meet you, Jett. I’m Kristen. Not big on formalities around here,” she says as she makes herself comfortable in the seat across from me. Once she’s settled, she smiles again. “So, what’s got you in here today?”
“I’m not really sure where to start,” I admit, running my thumbnail up and down the opposite arm.
“How about we start with confirming your diagnoses, and we can go from there? I glanced over your file but want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
“Inattentive ADHD. Mild depressive episodes. Anxiety attacks. Just load me up with the neuro-spiciness, am I right?” Cringing, I do my best to make eye contact to convey my apology. “Sorry, I blab when I’m nervous, and today has been a day.”
“There’s no reason to apologize.” She studies me for only a moment before asking, “Do you like dogs?”
I nod while picking at invisible lint on my jeans.
“Be right back,” she says before hopping up and nearly skipping out the door. How in the world is she this giddy in the middle of a workday when she’s listening to other people’s problems all day?
Not two minutes later, she’s back in the room with the absolute cutest red merle Australian Shepherd puppy on a leash. “This is Honor. She’s a therapy dog in training. Sometimes it’s easier for people to talk to her than it is to talk to me. Sometimes just giving your hands something to do like petting a dog can ease your anxiety as well.” She leads Honor over to me. The purple harness vest with Therapy Dog in Training stitched on the sides nearly swallows the pup whole. Honor hops up next to me, and I scratch behind her ears, her back leg thumping a few times.
Kristen watches us for a moment before saying, “Why don’t I hang back, and you tell her about whatever it is that’s weighing so heavily on you.” She unhooks the leash and walks over to her desk on the other side of the room before turning on some soft instrumental music.
I let the pup curl up in my lap, running my fingers through her fur. Her coat is almost down-like in texture. I feel for knots, sinking my fingers deep into the layers of hair, but find none. “You’re such a cutie pie. But I bet you know that already.”
She just looks at me expectantly, like she knows I am supposed to tell her my life’s story. She can’t be more than six months old, but there’s an old soul looking out of those blue and brown eyes.
“Boys are icky. Stay away from them.” That irritating feeling of pinpricks behind my eyes and the weight in my chest are back. I try, boy, do I try to keep the tears at bay. But I let my head fall forward, resting my forehead on the pup’s side as a few tears escape. Honor curls tighter against me as if she knows I need the support.
“Relationships aren’t for me, pup. If I haven’t found a guy that can put up with all my sides by this point in life, I think it’s safe to say that I won’t. Maybe I’ll just get twelve cats and be happy that way.”
Honor tilts her head as if to call me on the lie.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll just get a couple puppies instead.”
I go back to absentmindedly running my fingers through her coat. I don’t know how much time passes, but I eventually lift my head, wiping the remaining wetness on the back of my hand. Kristen looks up from whatever she is working on at her computer, her glow still present.
“Sorry for having a breakdown in your office. I know you’d probably rather be anywhere else than in an appointment with someone who isn’t actually a client. Especially one that isn’t even talking to you.”
She stands, coming back toward the couch but sitting far enough away so as not to invade the safety of the bubble-like area I’ve created. How she can sense that barrier, I don’t know. I’m thankful, though, that she doesn’t force me.
“There’s nothing wrong with crying. If we kept it all bottled up, we’d make ourselves sick. This room is a safe space. As long as you aren’t causing harm to yourself or someone else, anything goes in here. If that means you spend it receiving puppy snuggles, so be it.”
I hum my understanding, fidgeting with my fingers after I’ve removed my hands from Honor. As soon as I recognize the nervous action, I return my hands to the red-and-white coat. My eyes stay focused on the dog, but I speak to Kristen.
“I found my boyfriend with his ding-dong in someone else’s ditch.”
I huff a laugh as I glance up in time to watch confusion flit across Dr. Flynn’s face, but the corner of her lips rise in amusement. It is probably not my best analogy.
“I’d hate to interpret that incorrectly. Do you want to clarify what you mean?”
“Exactly how it sounds. He and his friend were getting it on whenever I wasn’t around.”
“And how are you handling it?”
“Oh, I’m not. I am effectively evading any and all emotions related to Joey. He can think I’m too much to handle all he likes.” I sniffle, the slight burn in my throat and the tip of my nose giving away how close I am to tears. A little laugh escapes on a breath, although nothing about this is humorous. “Hell, if only that was the case. I’d love to be as strong as my words, but the truth is I’m barely holding it together.”
“I’m sorry your ex couldn’t recognize your attributes as the unique characteristics they are. How long ago was the breakup?” This lady truly looks interested in my sarcastic spiral. She’s either a fantastic actress, or I’ve lucked up and found an empathetic therapist who gives a damn about her patients. I’m hoping it is the latter.
“About three weeks ago.”
“And do you have a support system to help you move past it?”
“Technically I do, but I haven’t told my brother or best friend much about what happened. Just that we split. They won’t get it, why he left.” My mind drifts off to the memory of that Tuesday afternoon and everything that was said. That day lives in a small box in the back of my mind, and the emotions are only allowed out to play when I am alone.
“It just happened, Jett. Maybe those feelings have always been there. I don’t know. But one minute she was telling me about how she was hurting from her last breakup and the next we were wrapped up in each other’s arms. We were trying to find the right time to tell you.”
“Before you played tonsil hockey in our living room would have been great.” Ha, at least my sarcasm hasn’t made a run for it yet. Then I really would be alone.
“Neither of us wanted to hurt you. You are.” He pauses for a second, scrounging for words. “You are such a beautiful mix of delicacy and chaos and love, and I do care about you.” He squeezes me, and I have to fight the instinct to sink into his hold. I hate that I still feel this much comfort in his arms.
“You’re just not in love with me,” I prompt, knowing I’m right.
The loss of his body heat as he takes a step back is almost too much, but as he turns me to face him and wipes away a tear I didn’t know I’d shed, he cups my cheek. Glassy eyes look back at my own.
“I know it was wrong to keep it from you—”
“You should have told me when you realized things had changed.”
“I should have told you.”
I take a steadying breath, already compartmentalizing the situation. I’ll break down over this later. Right now, I want answers more than I want to wallow. “Why?”
He looks away as he says, “As much as I love who you are, it’s also… a lot to handle. I was drowning trying to keep up with your ever-changing hobbies, trying to keep this place organized, trying to keep both of us pleased in the bedroom when you were rarely ever truly there.”
When I slip out of the memory, Kristen is waiting patiently as she has the entirety of this session. I give her a rundown of the day of our breakup without much inflection in my tone.
“It sounds like Joey was struggling with some of his own worries and didn’t know how to direct and discuss those thoughts and feelings. But you have every right to feel those heavy thoughts toward your relationship. Aside from what you’ve already shared, how is this situation affecting your day-to-day living?”
The trembling of my hands doesn’t stop as I wipe my eyes again, expecting to feel tears on my face but finding it dry. I breath in a lungful of air and hold it for a few counts before letting it out.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit my fears with a defeated shrug. “I’ve lost my drive. My routine is shot. I can’t sleep in the bed, because it was our bed even when it didn’t feel like our bed, so I’ve been curling up in the oversize chair in the office room. I don’t know how to push past it. I don’t want him to come back—I know we were done and that this was just the final nail in the coffin—but I also want the security of a partner.
“And then on top of that, I lost the job I’ve been absolutely rocking for the last eight years. Now, I’m dipping my toes in the freelancing waters, and organizing my life needs to be a priority, but I really just want to curl into a ball and not come out for a week or six. Or if I could just blink and have this be a nasty nightmare.”
By the time my monologue is complete, I’ve sunk even deeper into the cushions of the couch, seeking comfort from the dog pressed to my side.
Dr. Kristen’s stare holds a multitude of emotions but remains professional at the same time. “How have your ADHD symptoms been, Jett? Medications working?” she asks before looking down at her notepad then back at me. “Excessive stimming?”
I hum in confirmation. “More than I was before Christmas.”
“And what about your depression? I’m assuming that’s why you wanted to meet today.”
I nod, a small whimper escaping from my lips. “Sorry.” I clear my throat.
“Our feelings are meant to be felt and expressed. Never apologize for that.”
The thought spiral starts before I can shift to a new topic: catching Joey and Ella together, Joey’s parting words, my boss’s impersonal dismissal after I put my heart into my job, the fear of proving everyone right.
A tear finally leaks past my defenses.
Honor nudges my hand with her nose, and I realize that at some point I stopped running my fingers through her coat to pick at my jeans again.
“If I say it out loud, it makes all of this real,” I finally whisper.
“We can’t face our demons if we let them stay burrowed deep inside us.”
Unlovable.
Unworthy.
Lazy. No drive. No determination.
Negatives I’ve heard throughout my life play through my mind, but I do my best to silence them.
Instead, I say, “Right now, everything is utterly out of control and my chest feels so heavy that I can barely breathe most days. It’s constant anxiety attacks and forcing myself out of bed. I spent the last week feeling numb, praying that things would magically go back to normal.”
“It sounds like you’ve had a lot of heavy life events thrown your way all at once. Why don’t we try working through one at a time to see what we can come up with, yeah?”
Another shaky breath. Another brush of my fingers through Honor’s coat as we sift through the emotions I’ve bottled up for too many weeks. “It’s not even the loss of my relationship, you know? I knew we were done long before finding him compromised, but the betrayal of a two-year commitment followed by everything else is crushing me.”
As I explain that the loss of my position at a local press is what tipped the scales, Kristen shifts the conversation.
“What do you think moving forward looks like for you? I’d like to help you put a plan in motion to find your footing.”
Rubbing a hand over my face, the faint smell of puppy tickling my nose, I groan as I realize all the tasks that I’ve abandoned recently. “I need to find somewhere to move. My name was on the lease, but I’ve kind of already decided that reliving what I saw every time I walk through the front door is more than I want to handle.” My voice trembles as I add, “I need a fresh start, but that seems like the hardest thing in the world right now.”
“You don’t need all the answers right this minute. Take some time to think about what you want your future to look like without anyone else’s influence. Where you live, what dreams you chase, and who you chase those dreams with are all decisions for you to make. No one else. Just think on it, and we can discuss it if or when you are ready.”
I nod, and Honor licks my tearstained cheek before hopping off the couch.
“I am always around if you ever want to chat. Scheduled or not. In office or out. Don’t hesitate to reach out, okay?” Kristen hands me a sticky note with what looks to be her cell number.
“I hate to ask since you’ve already done so much, but any chance you know of open rentals?”
“Have you been to Riley’s Bar and Grill? There’s a bulletin board right inside the door where citizens post any town knowledge. You might find something there.”
Jokingly, I ask, “What about sexy elevator mechanics?”
The amusement on Kristen’s face is palpable, like she knows a secret I don’t. “We have one of those around here. Though I don’t know if I consider him sexy. My husband is a little too alpha for me to admit something like that.”
“Mmm, a growly man. Good for you.”
The knowing smile she shares lets me know I’m correct.
“Check out the board at Riley’s. If nothing is listed, ask the owner. His buddy owns most of the rental properties in this town.”
As she hooks the leash back to Honor’s harness and I walk toward the door, Kristen calls my name. I turn to look at her, and she grins. “If you’re into grumbly men, that not-sexy elevator mechanic usually hangs around Jace Riley. Just in case.” She winks.
My cheeks flame as I thank her, clutching her phone number in my fist.
I want to be as confident as Kristen Wilson-Flynn when I grow up.