Someone knocked at the door. I tossed Sam a fake sorry face and ran for the foyer.

“Dad has off today!” Finley exclaimed before I had the door fully open.

“Does he?” I smiled down at her.

“He does! And you’re coming with us!” She bounced on her toes.

“I am?”

“Wait, I’m supposed to ask you that.” Her forehead crinkled. “We’re going to the surf shop opening. Wanna come?” The light and hope in her eyes made it nearly impossible to deny her.

“Sure, she does!” Sam answered for me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. “Look, Morgan, your reward has appeared like magic!”

My chest tightened.

“Reward?” Finley asked.

“Yep! Morgan has a quick chore to do, and then she’ll be right over!” Sam shot me a look that told me I hadn’t gotten out of the therapy assignment.

“Okay! Miss Sam, do you wanna come, too?” Finley bounced again.

“I would, but my husband is calling me in a couple of hours, so I need to stay by the reliable internet so I can see his pretty face.”

Finley giggled and took off after I repeated Sam’s promise that I’d be over momentarily.

“Jackson cannot be my reward.” I shook my head emphatically, crossing my arms.

“Well, I said Finley was your reward, and Jackson can be whatever you want him to be. Or were we sitting in different sessions of therapy when Doc said to explore new relationships?” She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t think she meant Jackson!”

“Oh. Right. She meant every other person on the planet with the exception of Jackson Montgomery. My bad.” She sent me a look that said I was full of shit.

My phone rang as we walked back to the kitchen. Paisley. Just seeing her name on the caller ID made my stomach plummet.

“What are you going to do about that?” Sam asked.

“I’ll just hurt her if I answer it.”

“You might be hurting her more by wearing out the decline button,” she observed, then turned toward the refrigerator and pulled out one of the dozens of coffee creamers I’d stockpiled for her. “She’ll understand if you’re honest with her, and Doc said it was okay to ask her for space until you’re further along in your treatment, right?”

Right.

The fourth ring sounded, and my thumb hit the green button instead of the red. Oh holy hell. What could I possibly say to her?

“Hey, Paisley.” Good start.

“Morgan? You actually answered!” Her voice was a mix of relief, wonder, and worry.

Yup, I was a bitch.

“Yeah.” It was all I could get out as anxiety dug her scaly claws in me, tightening my throat. How could I be out of words for the one person who had learned them with me in the first place?