Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 44666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
“Your resistance is telling.” The doctor’s tone takes on a thoughtful cadence. “If there was nothing to be ashamed of, you’d have no trouble talking about it, would you?”
I snap my attention back to him, teeth clenched. He commands the space with practiced authority, but his words fall with a casual edge that shoots unease through me.
“Guilt often takes the shape of silence,” he says with a wave of his hand. “Or maybe it was something else. A cry for help? Is that why you were on the cliffs?”
I push the memory of last night’s snowy trek aside and focus on the fireplace, where the flames dance in pirouettes.
“I want to help you through this, Novalee, but I can’t do that unless you meet me somewhere in the middle. It doesn’t even have to be halfway, but I need you to give me something.”
“Last night was…”
Blurred from alcohol.
Drenched in grief.
Sharpened by guilt.
“Cold,” I finally answer.
He purses his full lips. “What else?”
“And dark.”
“Are you afraid of the dark?”
“Last night, I wasn’t.”
Numb to the core, I’d found the kind of darkness I’ve never experienced before, with its void inviting me into the fold, promising to swaddle me against pain and tragedy. In that moment, there wasn’t a scary thing about it.
“What prompted you to venture outside?” he asks, as if the answer is simple. As if he’s not dredging up the words I can’t unsay to Liam.
The guilt I can’t outrun.
I want to squirm, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
“When was the last time you felt in control?” he asks, steering the conversation in a new direction, his voice gentler now, laced with persuasion.
“You mean…since I’ve been here?”
Never.
“I mean in your life, your body, your emotions.”
My lips part, but no answer comes.
“I imagine it’s been a while, but that’s what grief does, Novalee. It steals control and makes you powerless.”
“How do I get it back?” Instantly, I want to rewind time and tape my mouth shut.
“By understanding that it’s not about avoidance. Desire, grief, pain…” His fingers drum against the armrest. “Ignoring these emotions won’t make them disappear. They’ll just show up in other ways.”
“How so?”
“They can manifest as self-destruction, isolation, even resistance.”
“Resistance to what?” Unable to hide a scowl, I cross my arms. “To you?”
“Resistance to healing.”
“Oh, so you have the cure for that, do you?” I let out a mocking laugh. “That’s a good one.”
“Not a cure. A method.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
He nods, as if he understands. “Will you close your eyes for me?”
“Why?”
“Please, indulge me for a moment.”
Hesitation takes hold, but his patience lasts until my eyes flutter shut.
“Good,” he says. “I want you to think back to last night. You’re standing on the cliff. Tell me what you feel.”
Tilting my head back, I’m torn from the settee and thrust onto the icy ledge. “Snowflakes. They’re falling on my cheeks. I should be cold, but I’m not anymore.”
“Why aren’t you cold?”
“I’m not sure. The waves bring me comfort. I just feel…”
“Describe it.”
“I feel numb, and a…a sense of peace.”
“Let’s go back. Now you’re walking through the snow. What are you thinking about?”
“Sebastian.” His name escapes, raw on my tongue.
“Keep going,” he urges.
“I feel his ghost watching me.” Grief crushes my heart all over again, and my eyes pop open. “I don’t want to do this.”
Dr. Price studies me, peeling away my defenses, layer by layer. “You’re still standing on that cliff, Novalee. Even in this room.”
A blink sends hot drops down my face. “I don’t want to be.”
“Are you sure? Because you did try to jump, did you not?”
I should be indifferent, not crying in front of this man. But his questions cut deep, carving out every flimsy excuse.
“I don’t know why I did it. I just wanted to stop hurting so much.”
“What if I told you I have a way for you to let go of the pain?”
“I’m all ears, Doctor.” Sarcasm coats my words, but deep down, I want to believe there’s a way.
His focus sharpens, latching on to the fraying threads of my resolve.
“I’d like for you to explore the concept of delayed gratification.”
“Delayed…what?” Doesn’t he know I’m already an expert, baptized in denial my first month here?
“It’s a controlled response, a way to ease the mind and body into recognizing that pleasure, like pain, isn’t something that controls you. You control it.”
Shameful heat spirals low in my belly. “What do you suggest?”
“Tonight, when you’re in bed, I want you to bring yourself to the edge of orgasm. Picture the cliff. But this time, instead of jumping, you’ll take your power back.”
I swallow, fingers gripping the cushion beneath me. “You’re telling me not to…come?”
“Control is yours, Novalee.” A twitch of a smile pulls at his mouth. “The longer you hold out, the stronger your power grows. Don’t climax tonight, or even tomorrow. Draw it out. You’ll know when it’s time to let go.”