Kiara
My expression must have betrayed my hesitation, because I could feel the steady weight of his gaze on me.
"What makes you think I'd just hop into a stranger's car?" I challenged, meeting his eyes head-on.
That was when I noticed them properly—his eyes. A striking shade of green. Not dull or soft, but vivid, almost unsettling in their intensity. I hated how easily they held my attention. Green, of all colors. I hadn't realized before how disarming green eyes could be on someone's face.
He leaned back slightly and let out a heavy sigh, tipping his head up and closing his eyes for a brief moment, as if gathering patience. "Exactly."
The lack of protest annoyed me more than any argument would have. I muttered something under my breath and turned away, heading toward the waiting cab. Just as my fingers brushed the door handle, the SUV door swung open behind me.
"Your mother would want you to," he said.
The words stopped me cold.
I turned slowly to face him. He stood beside the car now, tall and composed, his hands resting casually in his pockets. His gaze was steady, almost too steady.
"You read my file," I said flatly, frustration tightening my voice. My brows drew together, my lips pressing into a thin line.
"Of course," he replied without hesitation. "It was necessary. I needed to understand where your last session with Dr. Lemuel ended."
I exhaled sharply. "So what—are you planning to hold the session in your car?"
He shook his head. "No. But I do know a place where we can."
I stood there, uncertainty settling over me like a heavy cloak. None of this made sense. He had been dismissive moments ago, and now he was… what? Persistent? Considerate? I couldn't tell. My thoughts spiraled, every warning bell in my head ringing at once.
And yet, his words echoed louder than the rest.
Your mother would want you to.
She had pushed for therapy long before she passed, convinced it would help me find my footing again. The idea that walking away now might feel like disappointing her—wherever she was—made my chest tighten.
I hesitated, feeling his eyes on me, patient and unwavering. The moment stretched, filled with things neither of us said. Finally, resolve edged out doubt.
I turned back to the cab driver, offering an apologetic smile.
"I'm sorry," I said softly. "I won't be needing the cab anymore."
The driver blinked in surprise, clearly caught off guard by my sudden change of heart. After a brief pause, he nodded and pulled away, leaving me standing there with my questionable decision.
When I turned back, my therapist's expression carried a quiet sense of victory, as if he'd known all along how this would end. I forced a polite smile, still unsure whether I'd just made a terrible mistake.
He gave a small nod and walked around to the driver's side.
I slipped into the passenger seat, my pulse quickening as the door shut. The engine started, humming softly beneath us.
"So," I said, breaking the silence, "where exactly are you taking me?"
A faint smirk curved his lips as he glanced my way. "Relax. It's a nice place."
"That's incredibly reassuring," I muttered.
Despite myself, my attention drifted to his hands on the steering wheel—strong, steady, veins subtly outlined beneath his skin. I realized I was staring a second too late.
He glanced over, catching me mid-look.
Heat rushed to my face as I quickly turned toward the window, focusing on the passing buildings. Get a grip, Kiara, I scolded myself.
The drive settled into a comfortable quiet. The city blurred past, and for the first time all day, my thoughts slowed.
As we turned into a large parking lot, I pulled out my phone and texted Quin:
Hey. Might be late—session with my new therapist.
I hit send just as he parked.
"Shall we?" he said, breaking the silence.
I looked at him, momentarily startled by how closely he was watching me.
"We can stay in the car if—"
"No," I interrupted quickly. "I'm fine."
We stepped out, and I scanned the area. The rows of sleek, expensive vehicles immediately eased some of my nerves. At least we weren't alone.
He led the way toward a gate at the far end of the lot. Beyond it, a forest resort unfolded like something out of a travel magazine. Warm light filtered through the trees, and the air buzzed with laughter and conversation. Families strolled by, couples lingered on paths, and the atmosphere felt alive—safe.
He moved through the space with practiced ease, as if this wasn't his first visit. I followed, taking in the vibrant greenery, the colorful flowers lining the trails, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves above us.
We stopped in front of a wooden structure elevated among the trees, resembling an elegant treehouse. My heart quickened as we climbed the stairs. At the top, I froze.
The floor beneath us gleamed, polished wood reflecting sunlight in soft, shimmering patterns. The structure extended outward over the treetops, creating the thrilling illusion of floating. To one side, a glass pool stretched toward the horizon, its clear surface blending seamlessly with the sky beyond.
What caught me most were the trees themselves—rising straight through the structure, their trunks integrated into the design as if nature had been invited rather than displaced.
It was breathtaking. Serene. Unexpected.
"Cozy, isn't it?" he said.