eyes flashed to the bump my black T-shirt cinched over.
“Yes,” I answered without hesitation. “I want to go where I’m needed most.”
Dr. Bernard nodded, holding the door open for me. “Consider your name officially on the list, then,” she said. “With your recommendations, degrees, and goals, I can assure you you’re at the top of it.”
“I appreciate it,” I said, exiting her office. “And I look forward to working with you.”
“You, too,” she said, then returned to her desk.
I kept my chin held high the entire walk to the car I’d claimed as mine since moving in with Nixon. I knew it wasn’t really mine, but I was grateful he’d allowed me to borrow it. Especially now that I’d be adding another part-time position—in addition to teaching a few yoga classes a week—to my full-time class load. God, the mere idea made exhaustion settle over my body. Or that could be the baby was hungry. Or it could be my dreams of jetting off to Brazil to roll up my sleeves and do some real good were dashed in the blink of an eye.
“I knew I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up,” I said a few hours later when I still hadn’t shaken off the blue mood, even with Nixon’s adorable attempt to cheer me up by taking me to one of his favorite restaurants. “But when they called for an in-person meeting…” I shrugged.
Nixon reached across the table, moving my water glass out of his way to lay his hand over mine. That easily, my body whirred awake for him. “You’ll get there,” he said. “I have no doubts. And it sounds like this position in the city is a major step in advancing your career.”
“It is,” I said, hating that I sounded ungrateful. “And I’m excited about that for sure. The experience will definitely go a long way if I ever want to open up my own practice.”
“Do you want to do that?” he asked, finishing off his steak.
I pushed my cleaned plate to the side, contemplating. “Yes,” I finally said. “One day. I wouldn’t mind having my own office. My own client list.” A steady stream of individuals who I’d do everything to help. Now, exactly where I envisioned that practice someday? Not as easy to picture. I’d grown up on the road my entire life. I’d barely lived in the same city, let alone country, for more than six months at a time. Raleigh was the longest time I’d ever stayed anywhere, and that was because of school and the degrees I needed to achieve my goals.
“Have you ever considered sports psychology?” he asked, taking a sip of his water.
I smiled. “Yes, I have,” I said. “I actually have a minor in the subject.” His eyes flared wide, and I shrugged. “There is a tragic connection between head injuries and depression, anxiety…the list goes on and on.” I chewed on my lip, suddenly feeling pulled in so many different directions.
Because I could see a certain future—one with my own practice where I tended to athletes and came home to a baby and one athlete in particular. I swallowed hard, my chest tightening as that future battled the one I’d always had planned—going abroad to bring mental health awareness and help to those who didn’t have readily access to it. “It’s difficult,” I continued. “To decide which people to help first. Which area of focus to give my top priority.”
“You have time,” he said. “But I don’t envy the responsibility,” he continued. “I don’t know how you do it. You’ve got a gift for reading people, for being open-minded and accessible while also not pushing.”
I studied him as he spoke, my heart melting a bit at his assessment of me. The time we’d spent together had definitely allowed him to get a deeper understanding of who I was and what I stood for, but there was still so much he kept hidden. Some long-buried scar tissue I could feel but couldn’t reach.
“Not everyone is like that,” he said. “Or has the patience for it.”
I tilted my chin up, the conversation weighing heavy on my heart. He’d just complimented me on my ability to not push when that is exactly what I wanted to do. But, his words struck something in me, and I leaned forward over the table a bit. “You’re referring to your ex?”
Nixon sat up straighter in his chair, his hand sliding off of mine. Pulling away at just the mention of her. God, I