CHAPTER TWO
THE DEAL
The chair in Zahir’s office is firm against my back. Lorcan takes my hand and laces his fingers with mine, the bundle coming to rest on my thigh. Warmth spreads through my chest, up into my throat. A little thing, but we’ve been easing into being a team in therapy. He has a need to connect, and I’m working to fight my desire to be distant. The loss of my family made detachment easier than the pain of remembrance. I’ve come to realize Lorcan’s little touches, the interactions I worried were part of a game, cracked my resolve. And then the emotional dam burst. Now, I can’t even imagine my life without him.