Chapter 106 The Therapy

Chapter 106 The Therapy


The first thing I noticed about the office was that it did not feel like a locker room, which made me trust it immediately and hate it at the same time.

The second thing I noticed was Cassian’s hand brushing mine in the waiting room and not letting go.

The third was that neither of us had spoken a full sentence in the car on the way here.

Dr. Lena Mercer’s office was calm in a way I had not expected with neutral walls, two chairs angled toward a couch and a low table with tissues that looked like they had not been used yet. 

Cassian sat beside me on the couch with his knee angled towards mine and his fingers locked with mine so tightly that I could feel the tension in his hand before he said a single word. 

Dr. Mercer sat in the chair across from us with a notepad in her lap and the kind of posture that said she was interested but not waiting to pounce.

“Thank you both for coming,” she said.

Cassian gave a tight nod.

I said, “Of course.”

“I know this is not a natural setting for either of you,” she said. “My job today is not to make either of you comfortable in a fake way. It is to make the room safe enough for the real conversation.”

I swallowed once and looked at Cassian.

He was already watching me.

“Before we start,” she said, “I want to establish one rule; we do not interrupt, we do not use the word ‘always’ unless we are talking about the weather. And we speak from our own experience, not our assumptions about each other.”

Cassian huffed a quiet breath through his nose. “That is going to be a problem.”

“It usually is,” she said, calm.

I almost smiled.

Dr. Mercer folded her hands. “Tell me what brought you in.”

I spoke first before Cassian could decide whether to volunteer.

“We have not been communicating well.”

Cassian’s eyes flicked to me immediately.

I kept my gaze on the psychologist. “That is the short version.”

Dr. Mercer nodded once. “And the longer one?”

I felt Cassian’s hand shift in mine.

I looked down at our hands for a second, then back up. “We fight like we are trying to protect the same thing from opposite sides.”

That landed quietly in the room.

Cassian did not look away from me.

Dr. Mercer wrote something down. “And what is the thing?”

Cassian answered before I could. “Us.”

The room got still after that.

Dr. Mercer looked at him. “That is a good start.”

Cassian’s mouth tightened. He did not like being praised in a room like this, I could tell.

She turned to me. “Torin?”

I took a breath. “I think I keep trying to solve problems before they reach him.”

Cassian’s fingers twitched slightly in mine.

I kept going because I had already agreed to this. “I tell myself I am protecting him, but really I am making decisions without him.”

Dr. Mercer nodded. “And Cassian, how does that land for you?”

He looked at me first.

That alone told me this was going to be hard.

Then he spoke. “Like I am being managed.”

I felt my jaw tighten automatically, but I did not interrupt.

He kept going, still holding my hand. “Like he thinks I can handle a game, a season, a playoff run, a trade rumor, all of that, but somehow not the actual conversation about it.”

Dr. Mercer nodded. “That sounds hurtful.”

Cassian’s laugh was low and humorless. “It was.”

Dr. Mercer looked at me again. “What do you hear him saying?”

I did not want to answer too fast.

I said, “That he wants to be included.”

Cassian went still beside me.

Dr. Mercer nodded. “Anything else?”

I looked at Cassian for half a second, then back at her. “That he is tired of being protected without being asked.”

That got a small exhale out of him. 

Dr. Mercer leaned back slightly. “Cassian, is that accurate?”

He took a breath and looked at me. “Yes.”

That one word was enough to make my chest tighten.

She asked, “What would you like him to understand?”

Cassian’s thumb moved over my skin again. I felt it more than I should have in a room this neutral and professional. There was still that current between us, even now, even here, even with a stranger trying to help us stop hurting each other.

He answered slowly. “I need him to stop assuming that if he takes control, I will feel safer.”

I looked at him.

He kept his eyes on me this time when he spoke. “I do not feel safer, I feel shut out.”

The words landed hard enough to make me look down for a second.

Dr. Mercer did not step in too quickly, she let the silence do some of the work.

When I looked back up, Cassian was still looking at me.

“I know you think you are helping,” he said. “I know you care, I know you are scared. But every time you make a decision for both of us, I feel like you think I am not strong enough to hear the truth.”

That cut straight through me.

I tightened my hand around his without meaning to.

He did not let go.

Dr. Mercer looked between us and said, “That was the kind of statement I want more of.”

Cassian leaned back slightly, still holding my hand. “I can do direct.”

“Good,” she said. “Torin, can you respond without defending your intent?”

I looked at her. “I will try.”

“That is enough.”

I turned towards Cassian fully then. 

“I did not think you were weak,” I said.

Cassian’s expression did not change. He was listening hard.

“I thought if I let the pressure hit you all at once, it would land harder than it should have.”

That earned the smallest nod from Dr. Mercer.

I kept going. “That was not fair to you.”

Cassian’s jaw shifted once. “No, it was not.”

I nodded. “I know.”

He looked at me for a beat, then down at our hands. 

Dr. Mercer asked, “Cassian, what do you need from Torin in those moments?”

He did not answer immediately.

Then he said, “I need him to tell me the truth on time.”

My throat clogged up.

He looked at me when he said the next part. “Do not make me feel stupid for not knowing first.”

I felt that in my chest like a bruise.

“I will not,” I said.

Dr. Mercer let that breathe for a moment, then asked, “And what do you need from Cassian when you are scared?”

I almost answered too fast.

Instead I looked at him.

I said, “I need him to tell me when I am crossing a line.”

Cassian’s mouth moved slightly, not a smile exactly. “I have done that.”

“Yes.”

“And you hated it.”

“I did not hate it.”

He gave me a look that made that feel like a lie.

I looked at Dr. Mercer. “I hated hearing it because he was right.”

That got a quiet, approving nod from her.

Cassian’s shoulders eased just a fraction.

The session kept moving in that careful, uncomfortable way therapy does when the truth starts getting less dramatic and more useful. Dr. Mercer asked more questions, and every time she asked, she pushed us to phrase things as impact instead of blame.

“It made me feel…” not “you always…”

“I needed…” not “you should…”

It was harder than I expected.

Also better.

Somewhere halfway through the hour, Cassian shifted closer on the couch until our shoulders were touching fully.

He did not look at me when he did it.

I did.

His hand stayed locked with mine the entire time.

Dr. Mercer noticed, of course. I think she noticed everything. But she only said, “You can keep doing that.”

Cassian looked up then. “Doing what?”

“Holding on while you talk.”

He stared at her for a second, then at me, then shrugged one shoulder like he was going to pretend that was not exactly what he had needed to hear. He did not let go of my hand.

Not once.

Near the end, Dr. Mercer asked, “What do you both want from each other by the time you leave here?”

Cassian answered first.

“Honesty,” he said.

I nodded.

He looked at me and kept going. “And less panic.”

I almost laughed.

Then it was my turn.

I said, “Patience.”

Cassian gave me a side look.

I continued, “And a reminder that we are not fighting each other; we are trying to stop losing each other.”

That got very quiet.

Dr. Mercer set her pen down.

“Good,” she said. “That is the most useful sentence in the room.”

Cassian looked at me then, and I saw the heat in his face that had nothing to do with anger anymore. Instead, it was the kind of look that always made my body go more alert than I wanted to admit, even in the middle of a therapist’s office.

He squeezed my hand once, hard enough for me to feel it all the way up my arm.

I squeezed back.

Dr. Mercer noticed and smiled a little. “For the record, this counts as progress.”

Cassian exhaled through his nose. “That was painful.”

“Most growth is.”

He gave her a tired look.

I almost smiled.

When the session ended, she handed us a card and a short list of goals. She told us to come back next week. Then she stood, and we stood too, still holding hands.

At the door, Cassian stopped and looked back at her.

“Was it supposed to feel that awkward?”

Dr. Mercer smiled. “Yes.”

That made him huff a quiet laugh.

I opened the door and let him step out first.

The hallway outside felt too bright after the office.

He stood there for one second before turning to me, still holding the card, still not letting go of my hand.

“I hate that she was right,” he said.

I looked at him. “About what?”

He gave me a flat look. “About all of it.”

That pulled a small smile out of me before I could stop it.

Cassian’s eyes softened immediately, and the heat between us shifted again in that quiet way it always did when we had survived something hard together. 

He lifted our joined hands slightly. “Next week?”

I nodded once. “Next week.”

His mouth curved a little, tired but real.

Then he leaned in and pressed a brief kiss to my cheek before anyone in the hallway could make it a thing.

And when he walked beside me towards the elevator with his hand still in mine, it felt like the first honest step forward we had taken in a long time.