Chapter 3 Trusting the Therapist
Finally, after several tense days of Alex holing up in the master suite like a wounded animal, Dr. Elena Kellogg managed to coax her out of isolation.
The sessions began behind closed doors in Mia’s stylish home den—a cozy, modern space with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Boulder foothills, soft ambient lighting from smart bulbs, a plush oversized couch, and a couple of deep armchairs arranged for comfort rather than confrontation.
A small side table held water, tissues, and a discreet voice recorder.
The air smelled faintly of lavender diffuser and fresh coffee.
“Make yourself comfortable, Alex,” Elena said gently, gesturing to the couch. “We’ll take this at your pace.”
Alex flopped down with a heavy sigh. The motion sent her full, heavy breasts shuddering inside the soft nursing bra and loose top she’d reluctantly chosen.
A sharp grimace twisted her features as the generous swells bounced and settled, the sensitive peaks brushing fabric in a way that sent unwelcome tingles racing across her skin.
She shoved an errant lock of long brown hair from her face like it was personally offending her.
“I’m not crazy, Doc—no matter what those stupid cops wrote in their reports,” she protested, voice raw with defiance.
Elena settled into the armchair across from her, calm and attentive.
“I read the reports, of course. I also spoke at length with Lieutenant Ramirez. She doesn’t believe your story, and honestly, given what you’re claiming, it’s unlikely most people would.
But we both sensed there was more to it.
I personally don’t think we have the full picture yet.
That’s why I’m here—to give you a real chance to explain everything in detail.
Maybe we can actually get you and little Jordan the help you both clearly need. ”
Alex scoffed, crossing her arms under her chest and immediately regretting it as the pressure made her lush mounds press together and shift. “Ha. I think you’ve already made up your mind that I’m nuts, just like everybody else.”
“I’m a professional, Alex,” Elena replied steadily, her tone warm but unwavering.
“Others are free to judge based on surface details, but I’m never satisfied with half the story.
I want to be your sounding board. Talk about anything—literally anything.
You need to understand that I’m the one who will help decide if you get institutionalized or face prison time.
And if that happens… where does that leave Jordan? ”
Alex’s suspicious glare melted instantly into raw fear.
Her hands tightened protectively, as if she could still feel the baby’s weight against her chest. “We have to stay together, Doc. There’s no other way.
If they separate us, we’re both probably doomed to this miserable fucking existence forever. ”
Elena leaned forward slightly, steepled fingers resting under her chin. “Okay. Then let’s start at the beginning. Tell me everything in as much detail as you can. I’ll do everything in my power to help you however you want to be helped.”
Alex sat up straighter, trying to read Elena’s sincere expression through the haze of exhaustion and distrust. The movement made her heavy breasts shift again, a constant, distracting reminder of the body she was trapped in—the way they tugged with gravity, the faint ache of fullness even after nursing, the way fabric always seemed to cling and outline her new curves.
“Look, I haven’t been able to trust anybody for a while now.
Especially since everyone thinks I’m a complete loony toon. Why should you be any different?”
Elena held her gaze steadily. “Because, like I said, I’m a professional.
No matter what I see or hear, I let the person and the evidence speak for themselves.
I’m a therapist, Alex—like helping someone rehab a broken leg with targeted exercises.
My initial assessment is that you’re not mentally healthy right now, and that’s exactly my area of expertise.
So try trusting me. Nothing you say leaves this room unless you explicitly allow it. Fair enough?”
The woman who had once been a man leaned back against the cushions and stared at the textured accent wall for a long, silent stretch.
Minutes ticked by. Elena waited patiently, giving the space without pressure.
Finally, Alex exhaled shakily. “Okay, Doc,” she said without much enthusiasm.
“You’ve seen the police transcripts from their interviews.
When I tried to honestly explain why I was driving that car and who we really were, they wrote me off as a nut job immediately.
There’s a lot more to it than that. A whole hell of a lot more. ”
“I’m listening,” Elena said simply, her voice steady and inviting.
Alex’s mind raced even as her body continued its quiet betrayal.
The soft couch cradled her wider hips and rounded ass in a way that still felt alien.
Every small shift made her breasts move—lush, heavy, and far too sensitive.
The faint dampness at her nipples reminded her that Jordan would need feeding again soon, triggering another unwelcome warm flutter low in her belly.
She hated how attuned this body already was to the baby’s needs, how the mere thought of nursing could make her peaks tighten and ache with anticipation.
But the fear of losing Jordan—of being locked away while her wife grew up as someone else’s child—outweighed everything. Alex swallowed hard, the weight of months of isolation and disbelief pressing down on her.
She met Elena’s eyes again, something fragile and desperate cracking through the armor. “Fine. The whole story starts with an ugly antique necklace Jordan brought home from that vintage shop where she worked…”