What I say to Loretta isn’t textbook counseling. But maybe Loretta needs more than the theories I’ve been taught. Like me, she’s only twenty-four. And when you’re twenty-four, you’re at that weird stage in your life where you’ve taken a giant leap into adulthood, but are still hanging tight to all the craziness and insecurities of your youth. You don’t need a bunch of facts spewed verbatim. You want to feel like someone is listening, believe that you still matter, and that the great things in life have only just begun. I believe it, mostly because with everything going on in my life, I have to.
When I walk Loretta out about thirty minutes later, she’s holding her head a little higher. It’s not a lot. But it’s a start, making me think there’s hope, for both of us.
“Has Miss Hemsworth yelled at you today?” she whispers when we’re almost to the lobby.
“No,” I say, laughing. “But the day is still young.”
Miss Hemsworth is our lovely receptionist. When I say lovely, I actually mean evil. The woman has hated me since the first time we met.
The heavy door to the lobby opens with a loud smack, drawing attention to those waiting to be seen. The counseling center is private and held in high regard. The majority of our clients come from money, but a few of our therapists work pro bono, counseling those from working class backgrounds similar to mine. Some are like Loretta, suffering from eating disorders and mild anxiety issues. But the majority are severely damaged individuals with suicidal tendencies. I catch sight of one of our more heartbreaking cases sitting in the corner beside his father. Poor kid, he can’t be more than fifteen. And there he waits with his wrists bandaged down to his elbows.
I want to walk over and give him and his dad a hug. Both look like they could use one. Those people on the street who offer free hugs to strangers? I’m one of them. I always have been.
Today though, I refrain, staying focused on Loretta. “Good job,” I tell her, knowing how hard she’s trying. “I’ll see you next week.”
“Sol?”
I turn my head. I know that voice. Loretta doesn’t bother with a goodbye, leaving me instead with a “Mm, yummy” when she sees who called to me.
“Yummy”. Yes, that about sums up Finn.
Finn O’Brien, damn. You know those cute guys . . . those really hot kind of cute guys? Finn blows them away. I’m not typically attracted to redheads, but I make the exception for Finn. Oh, and Jamie from Outlander.
Finn has the whole bad boy thing going on, tats crawling along his muscular arms, hair buzzed on the sides and short on top. A modern Mohawk, it think that’s what it’s called. Oh, and don’t get me started on that dimple on his right cheek that appears when he grins, just like he’s doing now.
“Hi, Finn,” I say. His brother is with him, the one that looks the most like him. He’s older by a few years, handsome, polished and perfect. Well, if you like that sort of thing. Me? Did I mention how sexy Finn is?
His light blue eyes sparkle as I pass Zorina, the poor girl trapped in her own world following a brutal assault on the train. She pretends to play instruments that aren’t there, reality slipping so far from her grasp, it’s almost out of her reach.
I tilt my head in the direction of Finn’s brother because by now it’s obvious I’m gawking at Finn. “You’re Seamus, right?” I ask.
“No, I’m Declan,” he answers in a deep voice.
Oh, right. The district attorney. “Sorry. I know that Finn has a few brothers,” I offer. I should be impressed seeing how Declan has made quite a name for himself in the political arena, and I am. But Finn is who lures my attention and keeps it, despite my best efforts to appear more relaxed. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Waiting for you.”
Declan sighs, moving away from us and reaching for his phone. I grin even though I’m sure Finn is feeding me a line. The last time I saw him was at my Cousin Sofia’s wedding. I’d brought my friend Alex as my date and Finn, well, he showed up with some girl with big breasts and very little clothes. And funny enough, I still had a hard time keeping my eyes off him.
“Really?” I ask.
“Yeah. Really,” he answers, leaning back on his heels and making a show of checking me out. “Don’t forget, you still owe me a kiss.”
I avert my gaze because he’s right. I do. But I’ll admit I’m surprised he remembers. After all, I’m not the only woman who’s ever noticed him. In fact, ever since his career in MMA took off everywoman I know has noticed Finn. “Is that so?”
“Been waiting on it for the last few years.”
I adjust the folder I’m holding against my chest as I give his words some thought. “Hmmm,” I muse. “The way I hear it, you’ve had plenty of company to occupy your time.” I’m not making this up. He gets around.
“So is that a ‘no’?” Finn asks, keeping his smile and that dimple firmly in place.
My smile dwindles. If we were anywhere else: a coffee shop, a bookstore, even church, I’d talk to him a little longer. But we’re here: A place where those who hurt seek help, and those who hurt for others like me, try to make things better.
“It’s a bad time for me, Finn,” I confess, but I don’t tell him why. “And if you’re here, it’s probably a bad time for you, too.”
“But maybe we can make it a good time for both of us,” he says, losing his smile in a way that breaks my heart.
I glance down. “I wish it was true.”