Once at the landing, Erin nearly burst through the door without knocking just to get out of sight. At the last minute, she knocked on the panel of wood with more force than she intended, sending lances of pain from her knuckles to her elbow.

Jonas answered Erin’s knock and ushered her inside. Grinning broadly, he said, “I was expecting you. You could have just walked in.”

“My mother would have a coronary,” Erin retorted. “She’s a female version of Hitler when it comes to ladylike behavior.”

Jonas, often referred to by local women as the epitome of a Greek god, ran a hand over his tawny hair. His hazel eyes filled with sympathy. “Have you ever considered all the mixed signals you got from your parents as a kid? Your mom trying to make you into a perfect little lady and your dad doing his damnedest to have you act like a boy. It boggles my mind, and I didn’t live through it.”

Erin had never thought of it quite that way. “Mostly, I just realized I’d never please either of them.”

“But you’ve never stopped trying.” He didn’t state that as a question, and Erin jerked around to meet his gaze instead of taking her usual chair. He shrugged and said, “You knocked instead of walking in. Still trying to make points with Mama?”

“I already know I’m a basket case. That’s why I’m here. It doesn’t really help to have another person pointing it out to me.”

Jonas went into the kitchen at the back of his apartment. She heard the door of his refrigerator open. “Ah, but I’m not just pointing it out. I’m asking you to analyze your screwed-up childhood so you can start to understand why you’re a basket case. Have you ever studied a basket? It’s made from dozens of fibers, all woven together. When you and I start picking at one of the fibers that make you who you are, you start to feel as if you’re coming apart. I never promised you therapy would be easy. You’re going to hit some rough road.”

He returned to the office/living area with two cans of beer that were already developing condensation from the heat of his hands. “Want a glass?”

Erin normally drank her beer straight from the can. Like a guy. Her stomach clenched as that thought settled into her brain. And then for no reason she could pinpoint, she burst into tears. Jonas flopped down on his leather castor chair and said, “Take a seat, Erin. Or should I say sit before you fall down?”

Erin plucked six tissues from the box. She’d breathed in a lot of dust that day, and now that she’d started crying, the inside of her nasal passages felt as if a child had been making mud pies in there. She clapped the squares over her nose and honked into it. Just like a guy. And that thought only made her cry harder. Jonas just reclined in the chair, propped his feet on the desk, and watched her sob.