Winter’s POV
The late afternoon sun streamed through the clinic windows, casting long shadows across the polished floor. I sat at my desk, staring at the file in front of me, but my mind kept drifting. Damon’s words from earlier lingered like a stubborn echo: “It’s all slipping away, and I can’t do anything about it.”
He was drowning in frustration, and as much as I tried to be the calm in his storm, I could feel his doubts pulling at me too. It wasn’t just about therapy anymore. This was about his identity, his purpose—and I wasn’t sure I could convince him that it wasn’t all slipping away.
The sharp ping of my phone pulled me from my thoughts. It was a notification from WordArt. Blue had posted something new. I clicked on the notification, already feeling the familiar anticipation tha
