Free Accepting His Ways (Quinlan O'Connor Book 2) by Alyssa Bailey Page A

please undress, Miss Sterling, the doctor should be in shortly.”
    They’d agreed to follow wherever this took them no matter where that was, but the one in control was Cheyenne. The single session was outlined meticulously and still Cheyenne’s chest was tightening. In control was not what she was feeling at all. She was fine entering the club and then the almost paralyzing fear began to take hold as she topped the stairs, heading down the long hallway to the playroom. She knew what a condemned prisoner felt like walking to their execution. As she entered the room, her breath was painful. Were it not for Quinn who propelled her forward, she would have run out of the door.
    She thought about their last preparatory conversation at a local diner.
    “Sometimes with a childhood fear, it helps to go back to that earliest memory and be that child again. It’s called many things but regression is one of them.”
    Cheyenne wasn’t so sure. “Wait,” she screeched, sitting arrow straight in her seat, “are you saying you want me to be a little? Like when you and Josh’s Susan is Susie?” Her face scrunched in disbelief.
    “Well, yes and no. Susie likes to be a little for a variety of reasons, but as far as I know, one of them isn’t working through a fear she had in childhood.”
    “So you just want me to behave like a child?” Leaning away from the words and those saying them, Cheyenne shook her head. “No thank you.”
    Quinn reached for her hand, but she snatched it away. “Cheyenne, I don’t think that’s what he’s saying here.” He leaned in and this time, captured her hand in his warm ones. She allowed the contact. “I think Carter is saying that if you would feel more protected as a little, then use it. Children need protection, sheltering, and it’s expected that the adults in their lives will provide that.”
    “Hello, don’t you remember anything I told you about my childhood?”
    Carter jumped in, casting a cautioning look to Quinn before Quinn dragged her over his knee in response to her sassy mouth. Carter leaned into Cheyenne, garnering her attention. “No, I just want to keep it open for you. Sometimes, according to the club psychologist, if we go back to that earliest memory, try to slip into that place and time when we first felt the fear, it can help replace that fear with empowerment.” He leaned back a bit and shrugged. “You know, like a recurring nightmare where something happens, and we feel powerless. If we plan it out before hand and know what we want to do in that dream, then when it happens again, we are more likely to be able to control the outcome, destroying its hold on us.” He patted her hand encouragingly. “If you find it easier to slip into a younger persona, do it. We’ll follow your lead.”
    “Do you know when that earliest memory is, a stór ?”
    Squinting in an attempt to recall, she shook her head and shrugged. “I don’t really, just by the time school physicals and immunizations came around, I was petrified.”
    “Think of what actually scares you so that you can control the outcome. If you can’t, then if you decide you can regress for the scene, we’ll target the age as the entrance into school. Was that first grade?” asked Carter.
    Cheyenne shook her head. “Kindergarten.”
    “Right then, that’s the plan.” Quinlan patted Cheyenne’s hand in reassurance, and his chair scraped as he pushed it back from the table, signaling the end of the meeting.
    Now three days later, here she was ready in a hospital gown. Cheyenne came out from behind the divider in a robe; her breathing was quick and shallow. She looked at the exit and took a step towards it.
    “Cheyenne, what’s your safe word, piscín ?”
    “Popsicle, sir.” Piscín was the thing that reminded her that this was play, pure and simple. This isn’t something I can’t stop. Popsicle will stop play.
    “Use it if this becomes too much for you,” warned Quinlan, “but I don’t think it