A/N: Sorry for the long absence from this story. My muse decided to hibernate for the better part of a year. I tried to write many times and ended up deleting and rewriting probably ten times the number of words that I ultimately kept. I have another chapter and a half written after this one. So I hope to finish and refine those and get them up in far less time than it took me to post this one.

SPOV

I picked up the People magazine next to me, barely leafed through it, and set it down. I think that's the third time I've done that. I nervously tapped my foot and chewed on my lip. What is someone supposed to do while waiting to see a therapist? My heart was racing, and my palms were sweaty. Why was this making me so anxious? I suppose that's a question I could ask of Jennifer, the woman Elena had recommended to me as a therapist, when I saw her in just a few minutes.

Trying to calm myself, I let my thoughts stray to yesterday and all the fun I'd had at the beach with the Merry Men. It didn't matter if I was out with just one or a group of ten, these guys had a way of making me feel good about myself. Something that was missing when I was with Joe. Sure, the sex was great with Joe, but outside of that, what did we really have? A date was Pino's and a game on the TV, followed by balls to the wall gorilla sex. Why had I accepted that for so long? I guess that's something else to explore with Jennifer.

I felt a smile creep to my face when I remembered the surprise waiting for me in my refrigerator when we got back last night. I'd ridden back to Trenton after our pizza dinner with Les and Cal. They both escorted me up to my apartment and cleared it for me. Les was the one that pointed out the note left on my dining table, written in Carlos' distinctive script, telling me to check the fridge. I eagerly pulled the delicious looking dessert out of the fridge as Les explained that it was a flan and had been made by Carlos' mom.

Hmmm…Carlos asked his mom to make something for me? That's interesting.

I pulled a knife and some spoons from the drawer and grabbed a few plates, intending to offer some to Les and Cal, but they both declined. I quickly scooped a serving onto my plate and brought a bite to my mouth. My eyes closed, and I let out a long, satisfied moan as I tasted the creamy goodness. I opened my eyes to see Les and Cal looking on with pained expressions on their faces.

"Are you sure you don't want any?" I'd asked. Les seemed to pale at my question and quickly turned down my offer. I'm not sure why he did because he obviously knew how good this special dessert was. He and Cal excused themselves and left me to enjoy the rest of my dessert.

I woke at 7 this morning to the sound of someone in the kitchen again. Bobby was setting a plate of fresh scrambled eggs with a couple slices of turkey bacon on my table when I emerged from my bedroom clad in running shorts and a tank top over a sports bra. He smiled in greeting. "I heard you received a special delivery of one of Mama Manoso's flans last night. I figured I should make sure you had some less sugary protein in you before our run today." I thanked him for breakfast. He was right. If he hadn't been there with breakfast ready, I probably would have had another piece of the flan for breakfast. Our run wasn't too bad…

"Stephanie?"

I startled from my thoughts and shook my head slightly as my brain registered that my name had been called. I stood from my seat in the waiting room and walked towards the woman who had called my name. She was younger than I'd expected, likely around my age. I guess I've always pictured therapists to be older men with grey hair. She was black, about my height, but with about 30 extra pounds. Her kind smile helped calm the butterflies in my stomach.

"Stephanie?" she confirmed as I approached her. I nodded. "Nice to meet you. I'm Jennifer. My office is at the end of this hall to the right." We started in the direction of her office and she paused at a small kitchenette. "Would you like a bottle of water?"

My throat was parched. Water would be needed if I was expected to talk, and I'm certain talking would be required during this appointment. "Yes, please," I responded. Jennifer handed me a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and we continued back to her office. Entering, I took in the large, overstuffed chair and the couch across from it. I took a couple steps towards the couch and hesitated. Was I supposed to lay down on the couch? Or sit?

Jennifer must have noticed my hesitation. "Just take a seat and make yourself comfortable," she told me. I nodded in response, my nerves robbing my ability to speak.

Jennifer settled herself into her chair and picked up a yellow pad and a pen. "So what brings you in? Why did you decide to seek counseling?"

I took a deep breath in and slowly let it out, thinking how best to phrase my answer. After a few seconds, I responded, "I've been re-evaluating my life lately and trying to make positive changes. A few people I trust mentioned that I might benefit from counseling due to some things I've experienced, and after some thought, I realized they were right."

Jennifer nodded. "Can you tell me what these experiences are that would make people think you should see a counselor?"

"Oh, you know…" I dropped my head down and focused on the bottle of water in my hands while I shrugged my shoulders, avoiding Jennifer's gaze. "The kidnappings, car explosions, fire bombings, dead bodies and body parts showing up in my apartment,…" I trailed off and unscrewed the cap on the water bottle, taking a big gulp of water before finally looking at her. The look on her face could best be described as confusion mixed with a tinge of horror.

"Kidnappings? As in plural? More than one?" she clarified.

"Yes." I nodded to emphasize my response.

"Explosions? Dead bodies? Are you a police officer?"

"No, I'm a Bond Enforcement Agent."

"Bond Enforcement Agent," she repeated. "So, a bounty hunter."

"Yes."

"Do bounty hunters typically deal with being kidnapped and having cars explode?"

"Not typically. At least not the good ones."

"How many times have you been kidnapped?"

"Umm…" I paused to try to come up with a number. "You know. I'm not really sure off the top of my head. There was Stiva…and the Slayers. That's two." I started ticking off my kidnappings on my fingers. "Of course, there was Scrog, but I'm not sure if I should count that as one kidnapping or two. I mean, the second time, he was just in my apartment and he taped me to the chair, and it was really just an extension of the first kidnapping…"

"Scrog?" Jennifer interrupted my ramblings. "That name sounds familiar, but I can't place it."

"Edward Scrog. He was a psycho that wanted to be Ranger, like adopt his whole life and personality. Ranger is Elena's Whitson's brother, and my friend and mentor. But Scrog…"

Jennifer's face registered recognition and interrupted, "He's the guy who kidnapped Elena's niece."

"Yes."

"You're the one who volunteered to be kidnapped by Scog in order to help rescue the little girl."

"Yes. The little girl, Julie, is my friend Ranger's daughter." I paused for a second. "Maybe this whole counseling thing might be easier if you Googled me."

Jennifer stiffened and her gaze became laser-focused on me. "No," she replied emphatically. "Googling you will only tell me what others have to say about you. I want to hear what you have to say about yourself."

I tilted my head as I thought about that. Slowly, a smile crept across my face and the nervousness I'd been feeling drained away. "You know what? I think I like you," I told Jennifer.

Jennifer smiled herself and let out a soft chuckle. "Good. That's an important piece of the therapy. You have to be comfortable with your therapist." She paused for a couple beats. "Is the kidnapping by Scrog the primary issue why you are here? It sounds like there are a number of traumatic events that have happened to you."

"There really isn't one reason I'm here. It's all of it."

"You seem remarkably calm given everything you've described."

"That's me. I'm the Queen of Denial-land. Something happens, and I shove it in a box, shove the box into the dark corners of my mind, and move on. But Elena and I had dinner a couple weeks ago. It was the first time I'd met her, and she asked me if I'd ever considered counseling to deal with everything I've been through. I hadn't, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized she might be right. She gave me your name, and here I am."

"Therapy is going to mean dragging those boxes out and looking at what's inside."

I nodded my head and slowly took a deep breath. "I know. I think that's why I've been so nervous about coming here."

"That's understandable. Most people new to counseling are nervous about it. There are a couple hard questions I'm going to ask up front. Please be honest because these are things I need to know."

I nodded to Jennifer, and she continued, "Have you ever thought about harming yourself, or thought the world would be better off without you?"

"No. Not harming myself. There are times I've thought about disappearing. You know, packing up and taking off for someplace unknown just to escape all the craziness in my life. But I would never kill myself."

Jennifer nodded at my answer, then asked, "Have you ever thought about harming someone else?"

I laughed. "Does fantasizing about throttling my mother's neck while she's lecturing me about my life count?"

Jennifer chuckled, "No, that is a completely normal reaction, as long as you have no plans of actually acting on the fantasy."

I shook my head to indicate no, but then a thought hit me. "Well, I did dump a hot pizza over my ex-boyfriend's head when I caught him banging a mob princess on his couch. He got some second degree burns in uncomfortable places from the cheese. So I guess I not only thought about harming him, but followed through on it. And there are the guys I've shot."

Jennifer raised her eyebrows in surprise. "The pizza thing isn't a concern but tell me about who you've shot. Are these people you've encountered in your job as a bounty hunter?"

I nodded. "Yes, they were people that would have hurt me if I hadn't had my gun to defend myself. Until recently, my gun was in my cookie jar on my kitchen counter more often than on me."

Jennifer looked concerned. "That doesn't seem very safe, to not have your gun with you when you do such a dangerous job. Why would you do that?"

"As part of my reevaluating my life, I'm not doing that anymore, but when I did it, it was because I don't like the idea of having something on me that could take someone else's life."

Jennifer jotted something down on her notepad. "That's something we can explore. As we start examining some of these difficult experiences in your life, you might struggle with some of the emotions they bring up. I'm going to give you my card at the end of this session. On that will be my cell phone number and the number of a crisis line. If you ever feel you might harm yourself or someone else, call me or the crisis line. Can you promise to do that?"

I nodded. "Of course."

"Thank you. You may never feel those feelings, but I want you to know what to do, just in case." Jennifer paused for a few seconds before continuing, "You mentioned your mother lecturing you on your life choices. Can you tell me a bit more about your family?"

With that, I started describing mom, dad, and Saint Valerie. I talked about Grandma Mazur, the 'Burg, and growing up there. I told her about my desire to fly and jumping off the garage. I was just starting to explain who Joe was and how my mom had warned me to stay away from the Morelli boys when Jennifer gently interrupted me.

"I hate to stop you there, but we only have about 5 more minutes before the session is up. I don't like to run over since it keeps the next client waiting, and there are a couple things we need to discuss. First of all, do you want to schedule another appointment?"

"Yes, definitely." I was surprised how there was no hesitation in my answer. After being so nervous coming here today, I thought I might feel more ambivalent about setting another appointment, but instead, I was looking forward to coming back for another session.

"Alright. Is this time good for you, Mondays at 11am? Right now, it's the one consistent open time I have on my calendar. I had a client that was meeting with me twice a week, but they decided once a week was enough which opened up this time slot. If you need a different time, or if you want to meet more than once a week, then our appointment times will be a little more erratic as I'll have to fit you in to whatever slots I have open from people canceling appointments."

"No, once a week is enough and Mondays at 11:00 work well," I responded.

"Great. Now lastly, I have a little homework for you this week."

I groaned. In school, I hated homework, now I'm getting homework from my therapist? I realized I'd said that out loud when Jennifer chuckled.

"This is easy homework," she explained. "I just want you to write down three things that you hope to gain from therapy. What goals are you hoping to achieve by coming here? We can talk about that next week."

With that, Jennifer and I stood, handed me a business card with the numbers she'd mentioned, and escorted me back to the waiting room. I took a seat. It was a little before noon, and Elena and I were meeting at 12:30 for lunch. To pass the time, I took out my phone and scrolled through my email, deleting all the junk. There was a voicemail from my mom, reminding me of dinner tonight. Before I knew it, I heard another voice call my name. I looked up to see Elena standing in front of me.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Ready," I responded as I stood up. Together we walked out the door. Elena mentioned there was lunch place she frequented within walking distance. I readily agreed to it. As we walked, she asked about my date at the beach yesterday and laughed as I described the girls trying to get the Merry Men's attention.

We arrived at a small restaurant in a strip mall and stepped inside. There were a number of tables and booths in front and a counter in the back where you placed your order. A menu board was on the wall behind the counter. Elena and I stepped to the back, and I started perusing the menu. I reached the end of the menu and realized there was an issue.

"Uh, Elena?" I quietly got her attention. "All they have on the menu is salads."

Elena looked puzzled. "Yes, is that a problem?"

"Well, it's just that I didn't think you were like your brother when it came to eating. I'm used to him eating twigs and berries, but I thought you were different. I mean, you ate a meatball sub with me."

Elena laughed. "Of course, I did, and it was one of the best meatball subs I've ever eaten, but I can't eat like that every day. I'd weigh 300 pounds if I did." She paused for a minute, looking at the menu board. "You don't eat salads at all?"

"Um, they aren't really my favorite food. Mom used to fix them a couple times a week when I was growing up, but they were always watery lettuce that had no taste, drowned in super strong Italian dressing, with an anemic tomato on top. Not exactly a food I looked forward to eating. In fact, none of us did. Eventually, mom stopped making them because we all complained."

"Well, no wonder you hate salads if that was your experience. But there's a lot more to salad than iceburg lettuce and strong Italian dressing. Tell you what…" Elena looked up at the menu board. "Try ordering the Fiesta Chicken Salad. It's grilled chicken on romaine lettuce with fresh tomato salsa and a chipotle vinaigrette. I think you'll like it."

I still wasn't sold on the idea, but I didn't want to make Elena go somewhere else for lunch. I knew she was on a tight time schedule with work, so I agreed and ordered the Fiesta Chicken salad. She ordered an Asian Chicken salad that was made with spinach. I didn't mean to, but my nose involuntarily scrunched up at the thought of a salad of fresh spinach. Elena's Jersey girl attitude showed through when she rolled her eyes at my distaste for her lunch order.

We made our way to a table to wait for our food. We'd barely sat down before someone hurried over with our salads.

Finally settled, Elena launched right into her interrogation. "How did you like your session with Jennifer?"

"You don't beat around the bush, do you?" I laughingly asked.

Elena already had a forkful of salad in her mouth, so she simply gave me a closed mouth smile and shook her head.

"Honestly? She was great. I didn't think I'd feel comfortable with a therapist, but she managed to make me feel at ease and next thing I knew, I was spewing out all the details of my life. If we weren't limited on time, I probably would have been there all afternoon."

"Good. I thought she would be a good fit for you," Elena responded, nodding her head.

I took a bite of my salad. "Mmmmmm." It wasn't a full moan like I make when eating sausage alfredo or pineapple upside down cake, but it was definitely a sound of appreciation. "This is really good, for a salad, that is. The chicken is super tender, and the salsa and vinaigrette give it a good kick. If mom had made something like this when I was a kid, maybe I wouldn't have grown up hating salads."

"Like I said, it's my favorite place for lunch. Quick. Lots of different salad choices. Reasonably priced. I pack a lunch most of the time but end up here at least once a week." We paused for a few minutes while we continued to eat.

Elena broke the temporary silence. "How much of the flan is left?"

My fork paused in mid-air. "You know about the flan?" I guess I shouldn't be surprised since Les shared that it was Carlos and Elena's mom who had made it, but it still caught me off-guard.

"Everyone that was at the Manoso family dinner yesterday knows about the flan. Mama had it in the refrigerator with Carlos' name on it. That is the first time since Carlos turned 18 that a dessert has been designated solely for him. It caught everyone's attention." Elena's eyes danced with amusement when she shared this tidbit.

"But you knew it was for me?"

"Carlos told us all at the dining room table that it was for you, but it didn't take a genius to deduce it even if he hadn't told us. Mama told me he'd asked her to make it for 'a friend'."

"Carlos has lots of friends…"

"Not as many as you might think, and only one that is known for her love of dessert."

I blushed at the suggestion that my obsession with sweets was so well-known.

"Well, to answer your question, I tried to control myself. I've only eaten about a quarter of it. It is soooo good. I could have eaten the entire thing last night but wanted to savor it. I was really surprised that Les didn't accept my offer of a piece."

Elena chortled. "Smart man. Carlos threatened him with a month of monitor duty if he ate a single bite of your flan."

My mouth dropped. "No wonder Les seemed to pale when I offered him a piece yesterday."

"Les can be perfectly self-controlled with his diet as long as he stays completely away from sweets, but he loses all control if he has even a small taste of Mama's flan. If he'd taken you up on your offer of a piece last night, he probably would have eaten three-quarters of the entire flan in the blink of an eye. Carlos knows this, and I think he expected you would offer some to whoever drove you home yesterday. He was heading off the issue before it had a chance to happen."

"We have to get together more often. You are a wealth of information."

"Happy to share. I'll have to dig up some photos to show you. I'm sure you'd enjoy seeing pictures of Carlos from his awkward days when he was a pimply teen with braces."

"Carlos had acne and wore braces?"

"Of course, he did. Did you think he had some magic power that exempted him from normal teen problems?"

I thought about it for a second. "I guess I did. I never imagined Carlos going through the same things the rest of us mere mortals experience."

"Oh, girl! Are you in for a shock then."

We continued to eat our salads and chat. Before long, it was time for Elena to get back to the office, so we walked back and departed with a hug and a promise to meet up again soon.

I stopped by the bonds office and picked up the couple new files that Connie had for me. Both were new FTAs for me, so I decided to go back to my apartment to do some research before heading to dinner at my parents' house.

Dinner was a fiasco as usual. Grandma brought her new beau, Wilbur, an 88-year-old widower she met on the last Senior Center trip to Atlantic City. She came to the dinner table dressed in a sparkly gold spandex dress that looked like something Lula would wear, except that grandma didn't stretch it to its limits like Lula would have. Grandma and Wilbur spent the meal making out more than eating. It was nauseating enough that mom had extra large helpings of leftovers to send home with me. Luckily, grandma's antics kept my mom's attention focused on her, and I didn't have to endure any questions about who I might be dating.

Exiting the elevator on the second floor, my eyes immediately registered the large man lounging against the wall next to my door.

"Tank! What are you doing here?"

"I can't come visit my favorite bounty hunter? Even if I'm bearing gifts?" he responded, raising his left hand to show the six pack of long necks he was holding.

"You are welcome here any time, especially since you seem to be establishing a pattern of showing up with beer on Monday nights after my family dinners." I flashed him a smile and opened my apartment door. "Have you been waiting long? You could have just let yourself in. Everyone else seems to."

"Naw. I just got here about ten minutes ago. I know I could let myself in, but I'd rather not invade your privacy when it's not necessary."

We walked in, and I dropped my purse on the dining table before heading to the refrigerator to put away the leftovers. Tank followed me, pulling two bottles from the six pack and placing the rest in the fridge.

"Hungry? I've got extra leftovers from my mom. I could heat some up for you. It's pot roast, mashed potatoes, and gravy."

"No, I'm good. Lula and I did takeout from that new barbeque place next to Quaker Bridge before she went to her class at the community college."

"How are things going between you two?" I asked as I took the second beer from Tank's hand and motioned towards the living room.

"Good. Really good," Tank responded with a smile and a nod of his head. "As crazy as it might sound, I think us reconnecting during the lockdown was just what we needed. We couldn't be together in person, so we had to work on our written and verbal communication skills."

I choked a little on a swig of beer at that. "Uh, Tank. Lula showed me some of the texts. I don't think we need to discuss your written communication skills."

Tank let out a booming laugh. "She showed you those, huh? Well, I'm sure she showed you some of the texts, but I doubt she showed you all of them. We actually had some amazing conversations through text. We talked and texted about our childhoods, our families, what lead us to who we are today. We spent time discussing what we both want in the future. We learned more about each other in those weeks we couldn't be together than during the time we were supposedly engaged."

"That's great, Tank. It makes me happy that something good came out of that horrible time."

"Yeah. It really is great." Tank's head dropped down as he seemed to focus on the label on his beer bottle, trying to conceal the goofy grin that spread over his face. I didn't think it would be possible to see a man as dark as Tank blush, but he proved me wrong.

We fell silent for a few beats, until Tank cleared his throat. "I did actually have something I wanted to talk to you about tonight," he began.

"What's that?" I asked before taking another sip of my beer.

"Your training. Bobby has you set up with exercise and self-defense, but we haven't addressed your gun skills yet."

I nodded, knowing he was right. "I've been carrying it with me anytime I'm not at home."

"And that's a great first step. But we need to make sure you are comfortable using it. You asked for help, and I promised you we'd get you the training you need. What would you think about coming to Rangeman two additional mornings per week?"

"I'm already there on Tuesdays and Thursdays to use the weight room and work with Bobby and Hector on self-defense training."

"I know, but I don't want to add on range time on the same days because I think you will be too worn out to give the training everything it needs."

"Does it have to be mornings?" I scrunched my face up to register my distaste for the early hours of the day. Tank laughed.

"No, it doesn't. Ram's going to be helping you to start. I'll tell him to find you tomorrow morning, and you two can work out a schedule that works for both of you. I'd like to see you in there at least two times a week for an hour each time."

I nodded. Tank was right. I'd asked for help. I couldn't very well complain about it now.

"I promise I'll talk to Ram tomorrow."

"Good. I'm proud of you."

Tank and I were quiet for a few minutes, sipping our beers. The question that had been on my mind so much recently could no longer be contained. "So… since we've been avoiding the subject, what can you tell me about Ranger?"

"Have any of that flan left?" Tank asked with a smile.

"Surprisingly, yes. I'm really shocked I haven't eaten the whole thing. Are you asking for a piece?"

"Yes, I am. Mama Manoso made enough for dessert yesterday, and there was a whole extra one for Ranger to give you."

"And you weren't threatened with a month of monitor duty if you had a bite of mine?" I asked teasingly.

Tank's laugh filled my apartment. "Elena tell you about that?"

"Of course, she's an excellent informant for me," I joked as I got up from the couch to get the flan from the refrigerator.

Tank followed me into the kitchen and rinsed his empty beer bottle at the sink before tossing it in the recycling bin and grabbing another beer from the fridge. I cut two generous pieces of the flan and placed them on plates, grabbing two spoons from the silverware drawer and handing a plate and spoon to Tank. The call of the flan was too great, and we dug into our respective pieces while standing there in the kitchen. After a healthy bite of creamy goodness, I prompted Tank again.

"About Ranger?"

Tank was quiet for another bite before finally answering, "I really don't know much, and of the little I know, I'm not sure what I should share. I can tell you he's putting a lot of effort into addressing whatever is bothering him, and I think he's making progress."

Tension I didn't even realize I'd been holding in my shoulders released a little at that news. "I'm glad to hear that. Thanks for sharing, Tank."

"No problem. You deserve to know whatever I can share."

I took another bite of my flan, and a soft moan escaped at how delicious it was.

"I don't know how I'm going to respond to this gift. I don't think I can match how special this is. For one, this may be the best non-chocolate dessert I've ever had, and that includes my mom's pineapple upside down cake. And two, knowing he asked his mom to make it for me adds to how special it is. How can I beat that?"

Tank finished the last bite on his plate and took a swig of beer. "I have an idea. Hold on just a sec." He fished his phone out of his pocket and began tapping away. He finished sending whatever message he'd just typed out and stepped over to the sink to rinse his plate. I finished my last bite and was considering licking my plate clean when his phone chirped. He picked it up, and after a few taps, grinned at whatever had come through to him.

"This is what I think is the perfect next gift to Ranger." He turned his phone around and let me look at what he'd pulled up. I grinned.

"You think he'll like that?" I asked.

"He'll love it," Tank responded. "I'll take care of getting it to him. You don't need to do anything."

"Thanks. It's perfect."

I let out a yawn, and Tank excused himself to get back to RangeMan. It had been a long day, and I knew I had to be up early tomorrow to work out in the gym. My bed was calling to me.