Page 27 of Shattered Trinket
“Now, for your homework. I want you to experience something new or to face a fear you have. Whether that be going out and meeting new people, exploring the city, or whatever else, that’s up to you. You have a brand new life and nothing holding you back anymore from doing what you want but your own mind. Push your boundaries a little.”
He pokes his finger against the middle of my forehead with a closed-mouthed smile and I huff, ignoring the way my forehead seems to tingle in the spot that he touched. He opens the door for me, leaning against it slightly, and I step out before turning back to look at him.
“I’ll try.”
I nibble on my lip, feeling the need to thank him for everything, even though I know it’s what he’s supposed to do. Something tells me the other therapist they’d brought in for me never would have been as good of a fit for me as Micah is. He just has a way of making people feel comfortable and completely heard as they purge whatever demons they may be facing.
“Thank you. For the journal. For everything, really. It’s not easy reliving these memories and letting someone else see into the darkness I lived in for that year, but I can admit I feel a little lighter after every session. So thank you for listening, for giving me my voice back. I really appreciate everything you’re doing to help me live again, Micah.”
He just shakes his head and replies, “It’s my job to listen, but even if it wasn’t, you deserve to be heard, Cozy. You’re a survivor, much tougher than you think you are, and your voice is powerful. Victor might have accomplished suppressing it for a short time, but now you get to take back that control. That power. Don’t ever let anyone tell you what to do again. Youare your own person, and your thoughts and feelings are valid. Damn what anyone else has to say.”
He winks at me, and I give him a genuine smile for probably the first time since meeting him, teeth and all, because I know right then what he’s really saying. That I don’t need anybody’s permission to feel what I feel for my Ghost, and nobody’s opinion should matter but my own. And he’s right.
“See you next week.”
His stunned expression as I turn away and head down the corridor has me smiling all the way to the waiting room where Mama Valley and Ripley are waiting, my heart feeling just a little more put together and my soul revived.
Ten
Micah
As she moves further away, I have to mentally force myself to turn around and go back to my office. Checking the time on the clock, I note I have maybe fifteen minutes or less to collect myself before my next appointment, so I slump into my seat behind my desk and put my head in my hands with a groan.
Cozette McClain will be the death of my restraint, and I’m not even upset about it. The moment I laid eyes on her, I knew being her therapist would test every ounce of control I’ve always had, and I was right. When I met her, I could feel my chestcrack open with the weight of her fear as she avoided eye contact and retreated from me like a frightened animal. Witnessing the genuine fear in her big, sad blue eyes ignited an anger within me that I had never felt before, a burning sensation deep within my soul.
For all intents and purposes, I’m an easygoing, laid-back guy. My temperament has always leaned towards remaining calm and composed, rather than giving in to irrational anger or becoming carelessly upset. I’ve always had a knack for defusing tense situations and treating others with kindness, even if they didn’t necessarily deserve it. In a world already filled with so much hatred and horror, I’ve never understood the appeal of conforming to alpha stereotypes. An alpha I may be, but one fully capable of controlling his emotions.
Usually.
Keeping them at bay becomes more challenging whenever Cozy is nearby. Each detail of her time in captivity that she exposes forces me to exert more effort to remain composed. I can’t explain it, but every fiber of my being longs to nurture and safeguard her. I’ve come across many omegas throughout my life, but there’s something about her that resonates deeply within me. It’s not a scent match, but it’s…something.Something inexplicable and distinct.
It’s also something I can’t act on because she’s my patient, which only adds an additional layer of complexity to this entire situation.
But today. Today, that ever-impervious control of mine was truly tested when she unexpectedly perfumed right in front of me. I had to remind myself mentally that she wasn’t perfuming because of me, which served as a reminder to tighten my leash, but it was challenging. As soon as I caught a whiff of her sugary lemon scent, I became acutely aware of my uncomfortably tight pants, which made me feel like a total creep.
Cozy’s resilience in the face of the extraordinary circumstances she’s met only amplifies the allure of her pure innocence to my alpha nature. I’ve noticed a multitude of things about her during our time together, ranging from the easily noticeable to the more elusive.
She never curses, even in the most frustrating situations.
Any sort of praise or compliment she receives always makes her cheeks turn a rosy shade of red that’s endearing.
The prospect of not being a normal omega after everything she’s endured fills her with an overwhelming sense of fear.
The smallest act of kindness, something often overlooked as basic human decency, has the power to completely transform her demeanor.
I’ve never crossed a line with a patient in all of my years as a therapist, but suddenly, with Cozy, the lines are blurred. I’m having a hard time keeping the feelings she’s stirred in me locked down, and the longer I deny the alpha side of me that says to throw caution to the wind, the more I struggle.
The sound of a knock at my office door breaks through, jolting me back to the present and reminding me of the appointments waiting for me. Taking a deep breath, I run my fingers through my hair, feeling the strands slip through my fingertips as I shove my errant thoughts away. With a smile on my face, I open the door, determined to keep thoughts of the invisible lines separating Cozy and me at bay.
When my last patient for the day leaves, I grab my things and lock up behind me. My phone rings as I’m walking out to my car, and I smile when I see it’s my mother calling.
“Mamá,”I answer with a grin as I climb into my car.
“Oh,mí angelito!How are you,mijo? I miss you.”
I can almost visualize the exaggerated pout she puts on whenever she wants to guilt-trip one of us for not visiting. It would be an understatement to say that she hasn’t handled having an empty nest well. When Gabrielle—the baby of the family—left for the Omega Center last year, pandemonium erupted. Now, she calls most of us every day, which tends to lead to one or more of us showing up for dinner because we know how hard an empty nest has been on her.
Lucia Tate, my mother, was born and raised in Ponce, Puerto Rico, which is where she lived until she met my dads sometime in the early eighties while they were visiting on holiday. Considering her upbringing in a large family filled with a handful of siblings, many aunts and uncles, countless cousins, and grandparents from both her mother’s side of the family and her father’s, it’s no wonder she ended up with a whopping eight children. Growing up in a chaotic household, she found comfort in the constant noise and commotion that comes with a large family. When she left everything behind to be with my dads, she filled the void of silence with us kids.