It didn’t matter I hadn’t really been focusing on the book. My mind was still firmly on Ash and my damn feelings. This six months was going to be hell.
A knock on my door interrupted my brooding. He opened the door before I said anything.”
“Back so soon?”
He left the door wide open, all the way pressed against the rubber bumper. For some reason, that soothed something caustic which had been grating inside me since we talked. He was no more in control of himself than me.
He perched his hips against the dresser at the end of the bed and crossed his arms. His silence didn’t help either of us.
“Alright, Harriet Braiker, you’re making me nervous.” I scooted to the edge of my bed and slid my feet into the fleece-lined slippers on the floor.
His brows drew up as he processed my response. “I’m not giving you the silent treatment. I’m trying to make a decision.”
I tried to scowl at him, and no doubt failed. “Does that decision require you to interrupt my lunch and hover like a creepy person?”
He snorted a laugh. His shoulders loosened along with the etched line of his lips. “I wanted to talk to you before I made this choice. The trustees would say I don’t have one at all, but as your doctor, I need to consider your best interests in this situation. I need to consider your treatment and recovery.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t need treatment or recovery. I need a glass of bourbon and a man between my legs.” Okay that was low, even I had to admit.
He shifted like he could scoot any further away from me. The dresser prevented him. I stood up now and sidled forward. “What’s wrong, Doc? Any other choices I can help you with?”
He slid to the end of the dresser and braced himself at the doorway like he’d meant to do it. Like he hadn’t been running.
“Your mom called.”
I’d have been less stunned if he head-butted me. My turn to stumble away from him. “My mother herself, or her office?”
“Your mother.” Something vaguely resembling pity curved around his eyes and lips. I turned away so I didn’t have to see it.
“You spoke with her?”
“Yes, she sounded very concerned. We had to inform her about your escape attempt.”
Fuck.
I picked upThe Count of Monte Cristoand hugged it to my chest, wrapping my arms around it, and myself. As if I could wedge it inside. Hide it there behind my heart where it belonged.
“So you’re here to take my books. Is that what you’re trying to decide?”
He’d moved. His voice sounded closer now. “Why would I take your books?”
I snagged another one, and another, layering as many as I could hold on top of each other. Wrapping my sweater around the mass of them all. It didn’t matter which one. I loved them all “Because it was the deal I made with her when she first sent me inside. If I’m a good girl, if I don’t fight. If I stay, she won’t make the doctors take them away. If I imprison my body, she won’t lock up my soul.”
His breath ruffled my hair, and I tensed waiting for him to pry the tomes from my fingers. I’d fight this time. “You think I take orders from your mother?”
I turned to face him and found him closer than I estimated. Only a couple inches separating us. “Do you?”
He reached toward me and I hauled my books between my breasts and scurried away.
“Kory. I’m not going to take your books. No one will.”
I tried to slow my breathing, focus on his words. “Promise me.”
“Will it help you trust me?”
“No.”
“I promise. Your books are completely safe.”
