Her eyes light up at the wordsjuice bar. It’s adorable how much pleasure she gets from the little things.
“Alright, juice bar it is.” I lead her over to it and show her what we sell. Her eyes sparkle, taking it all in, making me chuckle.
She looks at me and flushes. “I’m being weird again, huh?”
“You’re being fucking adorable.”
She dips her head but I don’t miss the grin on her face. “I think I’m gonna like it here, Ambros.”
“Yeah? Even with all these people?”
She looks up at me and nods, her face serious now. “Yeah, because one of those people is you.”
Chapter Fifteen
CITI
I stareat the door in trepidation. There is nothing fancy about it. There isn’t even a nameplate on it, just gold numbers that match the office I was told to come to. The building itself is one of the oldest in town, I believe—at least of the ones that hadn’t been allowed to fall into disrepair. It’s also huge. It’s rumored that it started as a dwelling for a relative of Theodore Roosevelt and later became a hub for local businesses to work out of without having an entire office building of their own. The ground floor is a large marketplace that sells everything from crafts and food to antiques and tarot readings. The first floor, based on my brief research, houses a law office, a family planning clinic, and a dentist—or at least it did the last time the website was updated. From what I could tell, that was done with far less frequency than the businesses themselves were updated. I think the idea was a jump point, or a stopgap, so people starting out could get clients and financial backing before they rented a larger space independently. I assume some used it as a test model to see if their business would work in a small rural setting.
Right now, none of that really mattered. I’d come for my first appointment with Dr. Brown, and I was far more nervous than I’d anticipated. I take a deep, steadying breath and knock on the door, waiting for someone to open it on the other side.
Instead, a deep voice calls for me to come in. I turn the handle and push the door open.
“Hi, you must be Citi. I’m Dr. Brown, but you can call me Michael. Nice to meet you,” Michael says with his hand out as he wheels himself around the desk to greet me.
I hold out my hand without thought and shake it, the surprise of seeing him in a wheelchair making me forget to worry about the contact with a stranger. I pull my hand away and flush when I realize I’m staring. I’d be lying if I said his being in a wheelchair didn’t bring me a little bit of comfort, as shitty as that sounds. My survival instincts acknowledge that my odds of getting out of this office if he tried to attack me would be far greater now than they were before, especially considering the man seems quite muscular everywhere else. He’s also very handsome. I’m not sure why I expected an older, more professor-looking type. But then, given that my only point of reference for most things is TV shows and movies, I’ve probably defaulted to stereotypes, something I need to work on.
“Right, I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Citi.”
“It’s the chair. It throws most people.”
“No, I’m the one who should be sorry.” I wring my hands together. “I didn’t mean to stare.”
He offers me a small smile. “I’m not offended, Citi. Please take a seat. Do you wish for the door to remain open for this session? I want you to feel comfortable, though I will admit I cannot guarantee you complete privacy if you do. There are too many people coming and going to the other occupants of this floor for that.”
“Closed is fine. I’ll do it,” I offer, closing the door before walking to the comfortable-looking chair on the other side of the room.
“Thank you. Would you like a drink or anything before we start?”
“No, I’m good.” I take a seat and pull my bag onto my lap as I wait for him to wheel himself closer.
“Now, I hope you don’t mind, Citi, but I did a little research on you before you came. I recognized your name from the news footage, of course. I want to put that out there right away because it’s important that I know what I’m dealing with. I’m telling you this, not because I want you to think I’m nosy, but because it gives me a better understanding of your case without having to push you too hard, too fast.”
“Okay,” I reply. I’d already assumed his assistant would have filled him in anyway. They definitely recognized my name when I made the appointment.
“Is there anywhere you’d like to begin?”
I shrug. “Aren’t you supposed to tell me what you want to hear?”
“Sometimes? Sure. Sometimes it’s better to let the client lead.”
“Most people I’ve spoken to want to start right back at my first memories. I have no idea why. My life was fine, normal, until I was abducted.”
“How old were you when you were taken?”
“Ten.”
“That must have been terrifying.”
