“I don’t know.” I fiddle with the edge of the pamphlet. “Maybe. The other night things did get a little . . .” I rack my brain for the right word that will sum up what happened Saturday night, but then decide to be funny, because we need funny right now. “Bow chicka bow wow.”

He snorts a laugh. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”

“You’re okay with what happened, right? I mean, I know that was a huge step for you.” I fold and unfold the pamphlet, feeling super fidgety. “I just don’t ever want to push you into doing stuff.”

“Lyric, I swear to God I’m fine.” His expression grows intense, his gaze boring into me. “You’ve never, ever have pushed me into doing anything that I didn’t want to do.” He blows out a frustrated exhale. “You’ve always been so patient with me, even when you shouldn’t have to be.”

I slip my fingers through his. “Ayden, I love you. Being with you is amazing. It’s not about having to do stuff. It’s about wanting to.”

He nods his head up and down, his gaze dropping to the pamphlet in my free hand. “Still, it’s getting easier . . . I mean, with the intimate stuff.”

I lock eyes with him. “How much easier?” My voice is steady, but my heart’s an erratic mess.

He opens his mouth to answer, and dear God, I’m eager to hear what’s about to leave those lips of his, but an older dude wearing a bright-ass orange tie and tan slacks enters the waiting room, and Ayden instantly jumps to his feet.

“You haven’t been waiting too long, have you?” Dr. Gardingdale asks Ayden, tucking his briefcase underneath his arm.

Ayden shakes his head. “Not too long.”

“Good. Good.” Dr. Gardingdale seems nervous, his gaze flicking back and forth between Ayden and me. “It’s nice to see you again, Lyric.”

Ayden reaches back, grabs my hand, and pulls me to his feet. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought her.”

“It’s fine,” he says, waving at us to follow him as he heads toward the door near the front desk. “Ayden talks very highly of you, Lyric. And it might be good that you’re here. You seem to have a calming effect on him.”

My gaze slides to Ayden. “Do you talk about me with him?” I’m not offended. Just curious what he could possibly have to say about me while he’s in therapy.

He lifts his shoulders and shrugs. “You’re a huge part of my life. Of course I talk about you.” He holds the door open for me, looking a little sheepish. “Besides, like he said, you have this crazy calming effect on me, so whenever I get too stressed, I just start talking about you.”

That makes me smile. I stand on my tiptoes, give him a quick kiss, then tuck the pamphlet into the back pocket of my shorts. He totally notices and his cheeks flush a deep red.

“You’re so adorable when you’re embarrassed,” I say, taking his hand as we follow Dr. Gardingdale down the hallway lined with rooms.

“I’m glad you think so,” he replies, his cheeks still pink. “Because I find it really fucking annoying.”

I kiss his cheek just because I can.

When we reach a room at the end of the hallway, Dr. Gardingdale motions us inside, then closes the door. It looks like a normal check-up room; plain white walls that surround a bed, a blood pressure machine, and a couple of chairs.

“We’re going to hook you up to the monitors so we can keep track of your heart rate while you’re out,” Dr. Gardingdale explains as Ayden sits down on the bed. “Dr. Milleperton is also going to be putting in an IV as well so we can inject the sedative.”

“An IV?” I ask in shock. “Is that really necessary?”

“This is an extreme treatment that requires some mild medication,” Dr. Gardingdale says as he sets his briefcase on the counter near the sink. Then he turns to Ayden. “Now, are you positive you want to do this?” he asks. “Because there’s still time to change your mind.”

Ayden lies down, resting his arms on his stomach. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

My heart speeds up, thrashing in my chest.

Tell me what I’m supposed to do

To make this ache go away.

A gnawing warning in my heart,

Begging me to listen.

Soft whispers through my mind.

Tell me a story of where this is heading.

Tell me a story of my life without him.

Dark colors, no light, pure emptiness,

That’s what the whispers promise me.