Chapter Thirty-Seven.

"How are you feeling today, Oliver?" Dr. Isaac asked looking up from his notepad.

"Good."

"Any recent updates you would like to give? Like how was your week? Or did something new happen?"

Oliver paused, fingers about to tap the arm of the couch but stopped halfway. Hastings said it was distracting.

"Do you think it's possible for someone like me to truly love someone? Do you think I can become better, heal, and care about someone not just obsess or want them as property?"

The questions puzzled Isaac, however, he answered them professionally and sensitively, caution lacing his words, "With time, anything is possible, Oliver. I believe that with the right treatment, help, and support you can get better."

His whiskey eyes landed on the man and the pressure he emitted made the man shiver. There was a danger that lurked between the cold, expressionless face.

"You think I'm sick? That I need help?"