"I know."
She studies me for a long beat, then looks past me toward the street. "You're playing with fire in daylight."
My stomach clenches. I reply, "I'm aware."
She exhales, sharp and controlled. "We'll talk upstairs."
She turns without waiting for agreement.
Thirty seconds pass before I move. The street suddenly feels too open, too exposed. The tight pull in my gut laughs at me, while my mind screams at me about timing, of consequence, and of how cleanly that moment just locked into place.
The kiss replays in my head, not for what it was but for how visible it became. By the time I turn toward the building, I'm already bracing, aware that whatever waits upstairs isn't aquestion or a warning, but the start of something I won't be able to undo.
When I get into the office, it feels different. Doors close too softly. Voices lower. I follow Shirley into my private office and shut the door behind me.
She doesn't sit. Neither do I.
She snaps, "You crossed a line."
"I didn't start this," I reply.
Her eyes narrow. "That girl is fifteen years younger than you and needed your help. Not...not whatever you promised her."
"It wasn't like that," I argue, but it's weak.
Her voice stays even. "I don't care what it was like. You're the professional. The legally licensed one."
I nod. "I know."
She adds, "What matters is what happens next."
I lean against the desk, folding my arms. "Nothing has to happen."
Her gaze locks onto mine, steady and unflinching. "You know that isn't true."
Silence stretches between us, thick and deliberate.
"She's not unstable," I say finally.
"I didn't say she was, but we both know she is."
I look away, staring out at the city, feeling a fresh spout of guilt. But it's not about what I've done. It's about how I didn't protect Blue by letting her kiss me in the street.
I blurt out, "If this goes sideways, she'll derail."
"That depends on how it's handled." She picks up my phone and holds it toward me.
It looks heavier than it should. My stomach churns.
Shirley declares, "There are protocols. Mandatory ones. I can't turn my eye at this, Dr. Mercer," she says with sadness in her voice.
My pulse bangs between my ears.
She adds, "If I don't make you report yourself, someone else will. And it'll be worse for her."
The room closes in, walls pressing with invisible force. I stare at the phone, understanding snapping into place with brutal clarity. This is the moment. It's a narrow bridge and the choice that leaves no clean footprints. I played with fire, now I'm burned, but so is Blue.
I hate myself for what this will do to her.
