Maverick

The heavy click of the clock sent my hair on end. The woman sitting across from me, with large-framed glasses and curly shoulder-length hair, in her early thirties, stared at me with a polite smile that made me cringe.

I eyed the white couch in the corner of the room, wondering if I should have sat there.

“Would you like to move seats?” Ms. Courtney asked.

I tapped my fingers against the arm of my chair and shook my head. “Not really.”

“That’s fine,” she said. “So, Maverick, is there a certain reason you’re here today?”

Because Josie gave me an ultimatum, and I wanted her to be done with King.

Carefully, I sat forward, holding my forehead in my palm. “I—my friend suggested it.”

Courtney nodded, slowly, writing something down on her overlarge notepad. I itched to stand up and demand to know what she wrote, but I was sure that wasn’t how it worked.

“Why do you think he suggested it?”

I sat back, running my palms along the top of my thighs. Could it be any hotter in here? “She witnessed