9. Self-Care isn’t Optional
Chapter Nine
Self-Care isn’t Optional
Grant
The session starts normally. I’m still playing the boilerplate role of the man in an unsatisfying relationship, with a partner who may or may not be dangerous.
I’ve played the role before—it’s not the first time I’ve done these simulated sessions, obviously—and there’s a reason that we need to keep things consistent, that it makes sense to simulate continuous sessions with the same “patient,” but frankly…
I can tell Neve is already getting a little bored.
She obviously knows I’m reading from a script—as all the students do—but I get the feeling she’s losing patience with my answers, too.
I try to do a good job—I want to behave the way a patient would, which means a bit of avoidance.
Most patients she’ll encounter will want to get better, or improve their situation, whatever—but a great many of them won’t want to shine a light inward, either.
They especially won’t want to shine a light on potential spousal abuse.
I know I didn’t.
It’s weird to say that Neve can read my reactions at all, since she hasn’t known me that long. She’s been at Talan for about a month and a half, and this is only the third simulated therapy session. It’s been two weeks since she rushed out of our first session right after I put my foot in my mouth.
I think she imagines she was exactly who she warned me she was—exactly what it seems she’s always been told she is. Too much. It pisses me off, honestly. Sure, Neve Hart is… Well, she can definitely be a lot, but I’d never describe her as too much.
“And how has communication been this week?” Neve taps her pen on her pad, snapping me out of my thoughts. I lift my gaze to her, and her eyes are fixed on me.
I hesitate before I answer, looking over her slowly. She’s wearing athletic shorts, sneakers, and a fleece hoodie today. Her hair’s tied up in a ponytail with a ball cap shoved on over the top. Objectively, it’s nothing special; it could be argued she didn’t try at all.
She doesn’t have to. Not with me.
“Grant?”
My mouth parts. “Sorry. My mind was elsewhere.”
I frown to myself, and Neve frowns, too.
I know why I’m all over the place. It’s changeover day.
I left Sera with Marie this morning—waved at her while they drove off, pretended not to watch until the speck of the car disappeared over the horizon line.
Then I sat in my own car for ten minutes trying to psych myself up for the day I knew was going to suck.
It does suck. It always sucks.
“Hey.” Neve’s touch is gentle on my knee, but I jolt. She rips her hand away. “Sorry. You just… Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
I say it too quickly, and I know she’s going to pick up on it.
Neve is too perceptive not to. It’s what’s going to make her exceptional at this job.
She’s compassionate, and she pays attention, and I meant what I said to her—that it doesn’t surprise me a bit, but it impresses me a great deal.
I have a hell of a lot of respect for this woman, even after only having known her for such a short period of time.
If I didn’t know she and Fia were related, it wouldn’t surprise me the tiniest bit. They have the same relentless drive, the same steel spine, and the same totalizing fierceness.
“Grant.” Neve’s voice is firm this time.
My gaze slices to hers. “I’m sorry. Sorry, really. I just—” I shake my head. “I’m having an off day. I’ll be all right.”
She leans back in her chair, eyes narrowing as she crosses her arms. I thank the merciful heavens that she’s wearing a hoodie, so I can’t see how the gesture pushes up her generous chest.
“Mercury retrograde,” she says, as if that explains everything.
I can’t help my snorted laugh. It definitely doesn’t surprise me that she’s into astrology, and I kind of hate myself for finding it endearing. “It’s not that.”
She tilts her head, giving a soft hum. “Okay. But you’re saying that like you know what it is. So, what is it?”
I frown, but the consideration to lie to her passes with little recourse. I don’t think I could get away with it even if I tried. It seems that Neve Hart is already far too good at reading me.
“It’s changeover day,” I admit.
She quirks a brow. “Changeover day?”
I sigh, my chest deflating as I sag back in my desk chair. The gas prop squeaks under my weight. “It’s the day I—” I break off, clearing my throat. I don’t even know why I’m telling her. “It’s the day Sera goes back to her mom for two weeks. Changeover days always suck.”
“Sera,” she repeats, face morphing to understanding laced with sympathy—but no pity. “Your daughter?”
I just nod.
“All right.” Neve is still holding her pad, tapping her pen on the wire binding. “And what are you doing on those days to try and make it easier on yourself?”
Jesus. She sounds like my therapist—like, my real therapist.
“I—” My mouth hangs open for a beat, then two. Neve watches me expectantly. “No, I don’t need to do anything. I just need to…” I shrug, dropping my gaze. “Get over it. I expect to have a shitty day on changeover day.”
The clip of Neve’s laugh is disbelieving. “You’re not serious.”
I look up. She’s leaning forward now, visibly incredulous. “Yes, I’m serious.”
She shakes her head, almost laughing. “That’s not how that works. You know that, right? You need to take care of yourself on those days—today. Self-care isn’t optional, Grant. Especially when you’re dealing with something heavy like that. You can’t just push through it. That’s how burnout happens.”
I look away, staying quiet. None of what she said is untrue, and I think that’s why it pisses me off. The sound of paper rustling makes me lift my eyes back to her, where I find her flipping the page of her notebook and scribbling something.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m writing you a prescription,” she mumbles.
I bark a laugh. “You can’t write prescriptions.”
She glances up, flashing a small smile. “Not yet. But let’s pretend, okay?”
Lord fucking help me, this woman is going to annihilate me.
Neve finishes writing and tears off the page quickly, passing it to me. Our fingers brush as she does, and a shiver runs down my spine. God, I feel like a teenager around her. It makes me want to touch her again, even if it’s just another brush of hands.
I force myself to focus, unfolding the piece of paper.
Rx FAO Grant King
Self-care – anything to make things gentler on you
Prescribe as needed every two weeks on changeover days
Prescriber: Neve Hart
I flick my eyes back up to her, and she’s beaming, clearly pleased with herself.
“I don’t even know what this means,” I say flatly.
She rolls her eyes. “The fact that you even have to ask shows just how overdue it is.”
I chuff a laugh, then decide to play along. “Doctor Hart,” I begin, not missing how she straightens in her chair, thighs pressing together slightly. “I don’t know how to fill this prescription.”
She knows I’m playing with her, just like I know she’s playing with me. It feels like flirting, like foreplay, like mutually assured destruction.
Her eyes narrow, golden yellow in the dim light of my office, and I have the sneaking sense that I’m about to get fucked over.
“What else do you have to do today? After this, I mean.” She gestures between us.
My brain is as slow as cold molasses, so I answer before I can think it through. “I don’t have anything in my schedule after this. No more teaching, anyway.”
I realize I just set myself up when Neve’s mouth ticks, a wolfish smile painting her pretty face.
I should not be thinking about how pretty she is.
“Okay, we’re going to do something,” she declares.
I wait expectantly for her to continue, but she doesn’t. “And what is that?” I ask wearily.
“I’m thinking,” she says. “Don’t rush me.”
I watch her brow furrow, trying not to think about how adorable it makes her look, then I find myself saying almost against my will, “I have an idea.”
Neve’s brows fly up as her eyes cut back to mine. “You do? What is it?”
I stand, tilting my head to the door. Her mouth pops open, stunned, and I try my best not to track the movement as I smile coyly. “It’s a surprise. Let’s go.”