It wasn’t supposed to matter.
Ronan was just my therapist. Just someone I talked to twice a week, who sat across from me with soft eyes and questions that made me uncomfortable in all the right ways. The kind of discomfort that made me pull apart my thoughts and hold them up to the light. It was never about attraction. It was never about anything but safety.
But apparently, Adrian didn’t see it that way.
At first, I thought I was imagining it—the shift in his mood, the tightness in his shoulders every time I mentioned therapy. He’d been supportive at the start, even proud that I was going. But lately, his smiles had gone brittle. His jaw would clench when I spoke about my sessions, like he was bracing for an impact no one else could see.
And I had no idea why.
Until one night, it all
