Rock My Body (Black Falcon #4) by Michelle A. Valentine Page A

into play, adding pressure to your creative process, is that when you first began taking benzos?”
    He fidgets in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with me getting down to the nitty-gritty so quickly. “I think so. It all began when I went to see my doctor and mentioned that I constantly felt anxious that something was going to happen with the band, that everything we’ve worked for would be yanked away from us.”
    “And he wrote you a prescription for benzodiazepine to help calm your nervousness about the inability to control the outcome of your future?”
    He nods. “Yeah. And then once I started taking them, I liked the way they made me feel. The way they helped me forget sometimes that the band falling apart is always a possibility.”
    “So what led you to the point in your life where you determined that benzodiazepines alone was no longer enough of an escape?”
    He rubs his palms up and down his thighs, along the material of his jeans, as he stares down at the floor. “I’m not sure exactly. I think everything began gradually. A bump of cocaine here and there, topped with the alcohol that we always partied with . . . I don’t know . . . I like the feeling of not worrying.”
    My heart breaks for him. While I might not have turned to drugs to help mask the pain I felt after Annie died, I did turn to the one thing I found helped take my mind off it. “I can understand wanting to forget for a while.”
    His eyes flick up to mine, and I can see the relief in them. “You can?”
    I nod, feeling myself teetering on the edge of professionalism. Exactly how much of my own personal life should I be revealing to him? “I think everyone reaches a point in their lives when they want nothing more than to forget something, or forget the possibility that a good thing can go terribly wrong at any time.”
    “You’ve felt that way?” he asks, his need to know the answer burning in his eyes. It’s like he wants confirmation that he’s not alone in struggling with the crazy feelings going on inside him.
    I know it’s not professional, but I think sharing might be the only way to make him understand that everyone feels the way he does from time to time. “Yes, for a long time. My sister—my twin—died, and it’s a pain I’ve been running from for nearly four years.”
    He licks his lips slowly as he digests what I’ve just told him. “What’s that like? Losing your twin?”
    I sigh as the familiar pain grips my heart like a vice as I think about Annie. “I imagine losing anyone you love is probably hard, but in my mind there’s nothing that could be harder than losing my sister. She was the one person who understood everything about me, the one person who knew all my secrets and understood my crazy personality. It’s hard not having her in my life anymore. Annie” —I take in a ragged breath— “she was my other half, my soul mate, someone who can’t be replaced.”
    I fully expect him to pepper me with more questions, but instead he returns his stare to the floor. I wonder if any of what I just told him makes sense.
    I open my mouth to continue to push him for more about his reliance on benzodiazepine to forget, but close it the moment there’s a knock on my office door. “Excuse me a moment.”
    I rise from my seat to answer the door, laying my notepad and pen on the couch next to Tyke.
    I find Kimmy standing on the other side, wearing a hot pink top and jeans, chomping on a piece of gum. “Hey, Frannie. I’ve got to go into town to pick up some cleaning supplies in a bit. Do you want to come with me? It’s the perfect time to get out of here for a while.”
    I glance down at the wristwatch I have on and nod. “Sure, our session time is up anyway. Let me wrap up, and I’ll be ready in a few minutes, okay?”
    She nods. “Sure thing. I’ll wait for you on the porch.”
    I close the door behind her and turn my attention back to Tyke, who is standing in the middle of the office now, watching me