Page 68 of Resisting the Fall

“Speaking of beds,” Lucy said, “I’m planning to sleep at my parents’ for the next few days. That way, you don’t need to share a twin-sized bed.”

“I brought a camping pad I can just throw on the ground,” I said.

Lucy glanced at the tile floor, then back at me. “I love that you’re that kind of man, but also, considering you haven’t seen each other in three months, there’s no way I’m sleeping in the same room as the two of you. Even if you haven’t… you know. I’d prefer not to be here.”

When Maven’s eyes met mine, she gave me an apologetic grimace. I just smiled and placed a reassuring hand on her back. Maven could share whatever information about us she wanted with her friends.

“So at whatever point you want it,” Lucy continued, “my bed is up for the taking.”

“Thanks.” I tossed my duffle onto Maven’s bed, and my gaze caught on the three bulletin boards that lined her wall, filled to the edges with pictures of us. Each one had me longing for those days again.

Maven’s arms slid around my waist, her gaze following mine. “Ready?”

Was I ready to see more of the life that had taken Maven away from me? That would keep her here another three years? I drew in a slow, intentional breath, wrapping my arm around her shoulder and pulling her toward me while I was here and able to. “Let’s go.”

Maven

My phone chimed, announcing the dreaded hour had come. Well, another dreaded hour in a laundry list of them over the past month. I laid my violin on the bed and dismissed the alarm, only for Taylor Swift’s voice to ring out the reminder I constantly required these days: “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together.” My new ringtone for Ben.

“Did you not get the link I sent?” I asked, holding the phone to my ear while I opened my laptop screen.

“Hello to you too.”

“Sorry, I thought you were calling about the counseling session. You are planning to get on right now, aren’t you?”

“Is that today?”

“Ben! I reminded you of it on our breakfast call this morning. We’re supposed to be on in a few minutes.”

He chuckled. “It’s hard to know which appointments on my calendar are real and which ones aren’t. Because apparently I was supposed to take my goldfish to the vet at 5:20 this morning. And I had a meeting with a mortician at noon yesterday. That one isn’t part of a different, much darker, plan of yours, is it?”

“It depends how well behaved you are today.”

“What’s the procedure for this appointment, anyway?”

I pulled the link up on my laptop. “To get through it.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” There was a brief pause in the conversation. “So, I guess I’ll see you in there?”

“Yep. I was just admitted into the waiting room.”

An older gentleman with graying hair, a round face, and dark-rimmed glasses was suddenly staring back at me from my screen. In a moment of panic at realizing he had admitted me into the actual video call, I hung up on Ben. Almost immediately, a text message dinged, but I ignored it.

“Hello, Ms. Price.”

I gave an awkward wave. “You can just call me Maven.”

He looked at his paperwork, scribbled something, then nodded. “Maven. I’m Elliot Hughes.”

I’d selected Mr. Hughes because, of all the decently reviewed digital therapists, he not only worked with the courts regularly but was licensed in Vermont. Which would hopefully prevent any unexpected hiccups with the paperwork. “Thanks for meeting with us on such short notice.”

“It’s one perk of an online practice.”

While we waited for Ben, I glanced down at my phone to read my missed text.

Ben: You need to work on your phone etiquette.

“Mr. Walker.” Mr. Hughes said, forcing my gaze to the screen again where a box had just appeared with a grinning Ben in it. “Or would you also prefer I call you by your first name?”