The soft hum of the floor lamp filled the quiet as Ryder lowered himself into the familiar leather couch, the faint scent of sandalwood still clinging to the office from their last session. He sat wide-legged, one hand draped over his knee, the other tracing idle circles along the armrest, a man built for the saddle but now feeling every ounce of the weight he carried.
Dr. Marie Brown settled into her chair opposite, her notepad balanced in her lap. Her eyes—clear, steady, and sharper than a spur’s edge—took him in.
“Ryder,” she began, her voice a low, measured drawl that could coax a confession out of the devil himself, “I can see it all over you—you’ve just come back from somewhere you’d rather not have gone.”
His jaw flexed. “New York,” he said flatly. “Business… and a mess I never s
