Law #3: Don't Fall for the Athlete: Sweet Second Chance Romance (Laws of Love) Agnes Canestri (books like harry potter .TXT) 📖

you recently realized you still harbor about your dad…” Ellie pauses as if waiting for some interruption. When I don’t chime in, she continues, “I think it’d be useful to talk with your mother openly about your childhood.”

“It caused her so much pain when Dad walked out, I don’t want to revive any of that,” I say, but inside, I know it’s an excuse.

Whenever we meet, Mom brings up Dad, but I always kill the topic with some icy remark. Maybe because I know she’ll try to persuade me to pity my dad for his addiction issues and exercise forgiveness for him.

As if Ellie can read my thoughts, she says, “Perhaps it’s you who would mind talking about the past and not her.”

“And even if it’s so? Isn’t it enough for my therapy to unearth that I’m angry at my dad, and that’s why I punched Rodriguez?” I rake my fingers through my hair.

“You need to let go of your resentment to heal fully,” Ellie says. “I believe hearing your mother’s side of the story could do exactly that. Also, perhaps there are things your mom has kept from you. Ideas that could help you release your hurt.”

I give out a snort. “Not likely.”

Ellie sighs. “You know, I also thought I wouldn’t want to speak about our breakup ever again, but your revelation in the park did me good.”

My jaw slacks and my heart jumps into my throat. “It did?”

“Yes. It helped me turn the page,” Ellie mumbles, then draws in a sharp breath. “Anyway, we’re not talking about me now. I just made this point to show you how a conversation you don’t desire can actually be of benefit to your soul.”

I’m still contemplating her expression, “turn the page.” Does this mean she’s over me for good, or could it imply that she’s ready for a fresh start with me? And what would I want that to entail? Only friendship?

Ellie must assume I’m pondering her proposal because she adds, “Listen, if you’re open with your mom, she’ll understand better where you’re coming from when you refuse to speak to your dad. And maybe, just maybe, help you see why she’d be ready to let him make amends.”

Ellie has a point. I don’t want Mom to think I’m unreasonable for not giving Dad a second chance. And if speaking to her about Dad can help with my therapy, then perhaps I should try it.

“Okay, I could broach the subject with her next weekend when I go to Kingman.”

“Can’t you go earlier? I’d love for us to have enough time to untangle anything that might come up from your talk,” Ellie says. “And as you know, we only have two weeks to complete your treatment.”

There seems to be a sort of sorrow in her voice when she speaks about our collaboration’s end.

Maybe it’s that nostalgic edge that prompts me to say, “Fine, I’ll go earlier, if you come with me.”

“Me?” she shrieks.

“Yeah. A trip to Kingman is a whole-day endeavor. This means that if I travel before the weekend, we’ll miss a session. You don’t want that, do you? Also, as my therapist, wouldn’t it be good if you take part in our chat?”

I know I’m using our contract’s terms to extort an agreement from Ellie, but I can’t help it. The temptation to stretch our three-hour session into an entire day is just too much.

Also, if I need to speak about my father with Mom, I’d like to have Ellie by my side. She keeps me centered and calm, and I might need that.

After a brief silence, Ellie clears her throat. “I hadn’t thought of that. You’re right. Perhaps I should guide your talk, so you can get the most healing out of it.”

“Indeed,” I agree eagerly.

I hope she can’t recognize that my enthusiasm doesn’t come from her promise to help but her presence on this road trip.

“But wait,” she says, “how are we supposed to keep our relationship a secret if we drive there together?”

I know that she used the term “relationship” to describe our professional bond, but it creates a warm sizzle in my chest all the same.

“We’ll drive to my mom’s directly and then head back. Nobody will see us, besides her. As you know, my mother is extremely good at keeping secrets, so she won’t blabber it to anyone if we ask her not to.”

“Okay, well, this can work.” I hear a shuffling noise as if Ellie is paging through something. Maybe her calendar? “What about Monday for our trip?”

“Tomorrow? I’m not sure that’s good. Mom’s got a doctor’s appointment in the afternoon for her ankle.”

“We’d leave early morning and catch her before she leaves?” Ellie proposes. “Your chat doesn’t need to be long, but it should be as close as possible to your cathartic discovery about your father’s role in your anger issues. Plus, the only day when my afternoon is free this week is Monday. So, what do you say?”

“Okay, let’s drive to Kingman tomorrow,” I say because I don’t want Ellie to back out from our journey.

“Great. I’ll come over to your place at eight. It’ll give us enough time to speak with your Mom and be back in Phoenix by the evening.”

“Eight it is,” I agree.

Just as Ellie and I hang up, there’s a knock on the door.

Devon’s head pops in. “Pete wanted me to check whether you’ll sit out the next round too. You finished?”

“Yeah, I’m done,” I say, putting away my phone.

I straighten from the armchair and march to Devon. As I switch off the bedroom light, a voice purrs, “Good night, Loverboy!” in a falsetto.

Devon and I look at each other and erupt in guffaws.

“Yeah, our good ol’ Pete certainly has character,” I murmur between cackles.

We rejoin the others at the poker table.

While I settle beside Jimmy, a sweet melody hums in my chest at the thought of tomorrow.

I know it won’t be all fun and games because I’ll have to recall events I’d rather forget. But the anticipation of enjoying Ellie’s company all