“Yes. I want to be here.”
And I did. Because the last place I wanted to be was my house—where the silence felt too loud, the shadows stretched too long, and according to Phoenix, I was a sitting duck. But more than that, it was wherehewas. Not physically, but in every room. Every thought.
His rage.
His jealousy.
The way his voice broke when he saw the flowers.
The waymychest tightened in response.
I didn’t want to see him again. I didn’t want tofeelagain. Not like that. Not when everything in me was frayed and overworked and one emotional gust from splintering completely. I couldn’t afford it. Not now. Not with two murders, a break-in, and the whole damn town whispering.
So, somewhere between the fogged-up windshield and my first sip of coffee, I’d made a decision.
I was going to refer Phoenix Steele to another therapist. Cut ties. Wipe the slate clean. Reclaim my control—mypeace.
It would be the first time I’d ever terminated a patient. The first time I’d admitted I couldn’t handle someone. Andthat realization stung more than I wanted to admit. Because it wasn’t just about him being difficult or volatile or unpredictable.
It was about me. What he pulled out of me. The emotions. The instincts. Thewant.
Phoenix Steele would be the first patient who’d gotten under my skin—and I hated him for it.
And hated myself for letting him.
It was…a lot.
I straightened my shoulders, forced the tremble from my fingers, and reached for my briefcase and coffee.
“I’ve got a full morning.”
“Okay…” Zoey said. “Let me know if you need anything, girl.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
As Zoey and Cameron drifted away, I turned to Theo. “Any update on my Equine Assisted Therapy proposal?”
“I’ll have an answer by tomorrow night.”
I bit back a sigh. “Thanks.”
With that, I headed into my office and settled behind my computer. Ten seconds later, Cameron knocked.
“Yes?”
He strolled in and dropped a stack of envelopes on my desk. “Mail.”
“Thanks.”
“You really doing okay?”
“Stop asking. And FYI, if you and Zoey keep hooking up, Theo will send you packing.”
He smirked. “Maybe you should say that to yourself.”
“What?”
“Miss Talks-a-lot mentioned a certain billionaire playboy—your client—was at the scene last night. Withyou.”
