ESTELLE’S POV
Arrangements for the therapy session were made in no time. I told Adonis I could be comfortable with our family therapist; the one who’d helped me get the trauma of almost being killed by my mother-- though I didn’t tell Adonis every part of the story.
The building was still similar, just a few touch-ups had been made in the interior. The walls held memories, a reminder of the ones I relived every night in my dreams.
I still wished I could remember everything that happened that night.
We walked up to the receptionist, Adonis’s hand at my waist as we stood by the counter. He was close, his body warmth enveloping mine.
It was nice having someone who would protect you at all costs.
If only he realized how terrible of a person I was.
“We have an appointment with Doctor St
