Trust Me by Claire Raye

Author:Claire Raye [Raye, Claire]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Claire Raye
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

I pull into the small parking lot for the therapist’s office and my head is already swirling with far too many thoughts and questions. My first being will she know she was recommended to me by Caleb? Well, it was actually Ruby who recommended her, but she’s Caleb’s therapist. Will she ask me about him? Will he tell her about me?

I look at the time on the dash of my car, I have two minutes and it looks like I will be using them to psych myself up for going inside. I have no idea how this works or what is supposed to happen. It all feels so weird and fucked up, and as much as I need this, I still have no idea if I’m going to be able to bring myself to admit the truth.

I watch the clock turn over and with only one minute left, I drag my ass from the car and up to the door. The place is nearly silent when I walk in. There’s no one behind the small reception desk, but I can hear someone moving around behind a partially closed door, that I assume leads to the therapist’s office.

Is it even called an office? What the fuck is it called? A therapy room? A conference room? A place where you break down and cry? Because I feel like that’s exactly what’s about to happen.

My emotions are all over the place with my heart slamming against my ribs, my hands shaking and my brain a cluster of questions that feel like they’re clouding everything. I’m not even sure I’m capable of speaking at this point.

A woman emerges from behind the door and she looks up to see me standing in the tiny waiting area. It’s nothing like I expected, but for some reason I had this vision of it looking like the counseling center on campus; a place with lots of rooms and a revolving door of people, but this is far from it. It’s small, almost cozy with a quiet stillness that makes it feel more like someone’s house than a therapist’s office.

“You must be Mila Collins,” she says, smiling brightly at me. Her voice is somewhat soft, yet welcoming and I find myself comforted by the sound and her appearance.

She’s dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt with a cardigan over the top, making it feel far less like a doctor’s office. I’m not sure what I expected her to be like, but I guess I assumed she would be stuffy with an air of importance to her, but she’s not at all like that.

“Would you like to come in?” she now asks, holding the door to her office open. She smiles, her eyes crinkling up in the corners showing her age. She has to be roughly the same age as my mother and again, I’m comforted by the knowledge that she’s seen a lot since going into practice as a therapist. “I’m Liz or Dr. Watkins or Dr. Liz or

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