Rain painted silver trails down Dr. Park's window, each droplet carrying its own fractured reflection of the Seattle skyline. Jim watched them fall, finding it easier than meeting his therapist's steady gaze after thirty minutes of carefully cultivated silence.
"She has enough to deal with," he said finally, the words falling into the quiet room like stones into still water. "A dead husband. A baby on the way. A disabled brother-in-law crashing in her guest room. At least the mortgage is paid off. The last thing she needs is..." He gestured vaguely at his chest, where Sam's heart kept its steady rhythm of want and guilt.
"Is what?" Dr. Park's voice was gentle as rain against glass.
"Is a thirty-two-year-old man who can't get over a crush he's been carrying since he was eighteen." Jim's
