The Shrink (Kephart College Book 1) by Cassie Mint

Author:Cassie Mint [Mint, Cassie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Cherry Publishing
Published: 2022-02-02T16:00:00+00:00

Six

Sterling

I became a therapist to help people. And, for the most part, that’s what I do. Occasionally, like Kennedy, someone will come to me against their will–and those are often the patients who refuse to engage with the process. They fight me every step of the way, just like she did at the beginning.

Sometimes I can’t help them. I can’t force people to cooperate, after all. But those patients are relatively rare, and Kennedy broke through that resistance, thank god.

Most people who come to me, it’s because they’ve tried dealing with things on their own and now they’re desperate. They’ll try anything if it might help. And I like my job–it feels good to watch someone come to me, week after week, leaving each session looking lighter and more hopeful.

That’s not happening with Kennedy these days. For weeks now, she’s left my office looking more beaten down than when she came.

I’m not sure I’m helping her anymore.

“Tell me–”

“—About my week?” Kennedy smirks as she settles onto the couch, but her usual spirit isn’t there. She looks tired, her face bare of makeup and her hair scraped up in a messy bun. She’s still so gorgeous she punches the air from my lungs, but it’s not like her. It’s worrying.

“Are you sleeping?” I ask instead. “There’s a sleep clinic near campus, and I know some of the doctors there. I could refer you.”

She shakes her head. “It’s okay.”

That’s not an answer, damn it. Is she dodging me again? “Alright. How are your classes going? Do you have assignments due?”

A slow smile spreads over Kennedy’s face. I watch her from my chair, heart drumming. “Dr Sterling. Are you trying to figure out why I look like shit?”

“You do not look like shit. You could never–” I break off, breathing hard. Fuck. “You don’t look like yourself, Kennedy. That’s all.”

She hums, fiddling with the hem of her baggy t-shirt. Usually, I think she picks out clothes to torture me–tiny shorts, flippy skirts, tight t-shirts. But today, she’s in an old fun run t-shirt that hangs almost to the hem of her denim shorts, and there’s a bleach stain near her hip.

She’s still torturing me, for the record. Swamping her perfect body in a baggy t-shirt won’t change that–it just makes me want to see her in only that, the faded fabric pooling over her curves as she lays back on my bed.

“I’m feeling… off.”

She’s working with me. Thank god. “Go on,” I urge her, settling back in the chair.

Kennedy blows out a long breath and stares out of the office window. She does that when she’s searching for the right words.

My gaze roves hungrily over her from head to toe. When she turns back to me, my eyes flick back up to her face.

“I feel like…” She nibbles her bottom lip, holding my gaze. “Like I’m missing something important.”

My chest aches for her. This girl is so fucking sweet and bubbly and caring, and all I want is to fix everything for her. To make every ounce of her pain go away.

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