“No?” The therapist acted like he’d misheard.
“No, I won’t sign the release.”
Teagan had been in business long enough to realize the power of simply telling people no and refusing to explain himself. No. Dr. Goedert was not going to tell Darcy anything about him, let alone that Teagan was not a recovering alcoholic but a nervous wreck with a lifetime prognosis of the same.
“I need to at least explain to her that she’s not qualified to treat you for alcoholism,” Dr. Goedert insisted, forehead creasing in consternation. “Not that you’d benefit from it, in any event.”
“I think the only thing you need to explain to her is that she’s entitled to quite a bit of overtime and back pay for the hours you’ve been having her work,” Teagan said, voicecoming out unperturbed. “She seemed to think she wasn’t entitled to it just because she was on salary.”
The two men stared at each other.
Teagan put a polite smile on his face and dug his nails into his palms. He stood there, face still over the internal churning as he waited to see if Dr. Goedert would call his bluff. He could go right out there and tell Darcy that Teagan had come to Montana straight from the psych ward, not the drunk tank.Oh no oh crap.
“I’ll... look at Darcy’s pay stubs,” Dr. Goedert said after a moment. “Should I send her final check to the address in your file?”
“Thank you,” Teagan said gravely.
He went back down to the lobby, his feet curiously weightless where they were attached to his legs. He thought he might just float away, or maybe pass out. Darcy stood in the middle of the swirl of activity, hands on her hips, Teagan’s luggage at her feet. She’d put those big aviator sunglasses back on and changed into a traveling outfit consisting of her least-shredded pair of jean shorts, hiking boots, and an oversized orange T-shirt depicting the bug-eyed beaver mascot of Oregon State University standing victorious over the prone and bloodied figure of a defeated rival duck. She favored him with a conspiratorial grin as she picked up his backpack and slung it over her shoulder.
That was her. That was the one. That was the only woman for him. If his board tried to fire him, she’d probably help him set a trash can fire under the building’s smoke alarm before they could finish signing the resolutions.
Seeing him halt to take her in, Darcy crossed the room and put her hand back on his chest.
“You worried?” she asked.
Teagan nodded. He was very worried. The odds he could pull this off for three months seemed low.
“Don’t be worried,” Darcy said. “I’ve got this, I promise. I’ve been listening to Sober Sam for two weeks.”
Teagan smiled despite himself. Darcy grinned in answer, then went up on her toes and kissed him lingeringly, mouth closed over his lower lip. When Teagan hesitated a moment in light of the other distressed people coming in and out of the room, Darcy pulled back.
“Should I not do that? If I’m your sober companion?” she asked.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Teagan hastened to reassure her. If Darcy ended up murdering him when she figured out he was a liar, he might as well enjoy his short remaining life. “No reason why you shouldn’t.”
Her face still had a trace of doubt on it.
“It’s not like you’re my sponsor, after all,” he said, discovering hitherto unnecessary and unused reserves of bullshit. “Or my therapist.”
Darcy’s face cleared. “That’s right. It would be different if I were yoursponsor,” she reasoned.
They both nodded, in perfect agreement on that score, even though Teagan did not really know what a sponsor did, and a sober companion even less. But he’d be damned before he’d put a single obstacle in front of Darcy kissing him whenever she felt like it.
Rachel, still not looking as flawlessly groomed as typical, stomped up the stairs from the basement. Her lineless, wrinkle-free face still managed to convey harassment.
“Darcy,” she snapped. “You need to get the towels outto the tents before you leave. I’m going to have to pay the housekeeping service to come out today and clean the residence as it is.”
Darcy’s dark brown eyes sparkled with glee as she unhurriedly pressed another kiss to the corner of Teagan’s mouth. He’d barely slept in more than twenty-four hours now, but he was feeling better by the minute.
“I already called a taxi,” Darcy whispered to Teagan. Without even turning her head, she extended one arm and one finger in Rachel’s direction.
“Bitch, I quit,” she said.
fifteen
Teagan slept on the ride to the airport. He fell asleep again when their plane lifted off. Darcy let him have the window seat, but his eyes were closed before the shrinking peaks of the Gallatin range filled the little porthole.
Even asleep, with his mouth hanging slightly open and his hair falling over his forehead, his expression was tense. Every half hour or so he’d jolt awake and look around in confusion, then settle back down when he reoriented himself. Darcy would have teased him about it if his expression hadn’t been so wide-eyed and incredulous when it landed on her. Like he expected her to bail out of the arrangement while they were cruising over Ohio. Like she’d call the flight attendant back and say that actually, Teagan was allowed to drink whatever he wanted, she didn’t care. Instead, she proficiently ordered him an apple juice and some mini-pretzels, draped him with her hoodie, and told him she had hours of topical podcasts saved for her own education and entertainment if he wanted to sleep the rest of the way. He did.
