“Well…” Contemplative, I reach up to the cabinets and snag two mugs, bringing them down again and setting them beside the pot. “From a psychological perspective, I suppose we could infer that he was protecting you from me.”
“But I don’tneedto be protected from you.” She grunts and sighs, firming her lips into unimpressed lines. “And I knew you inside the hospital, too. Why didn’t he have a problem with you then?”
“Aside from the fact thathedoesn’t exist in the context we mean? This wasyoursubconscious. So if he wasn’t protecting you from me, then thenext inference could be that he was jealous. In the hospital, you were just a patient. Here, things changed for us, too.”
“Not right away, they didn’t. Not for a while.” Frustrated, she sets the pencil down and lifts her sketchbook, revealing a stack of files I’ve already read front to back. “I found these in the living room.”
“Did you look through them?”
She nods and sets the sketchbook aside. Her movements are jerky and fast. Anxious and fidgety as she peels the top file open. Then lets it close again. Open. Closed. “Is that okay? You didn’t specifically say I could, but?—”
“Of course you can. They’re about you.” While the coffee pot fills, I move to the fridge and take out a carton of milk. Then bowls. Cereal. I’m too fuckin’ tired to cook, and my stomach isn’t all that keen on food anyway. “Did you see anything that interested you?”
“There’s a note in here from Billy that says he’s looking to get access to my therapist’s notes today.”
“Mm.” I snag a box of Rice Krispies from the cabinet, digging my hand in and dragging the bag open. “Billy told me he was doing that. Feels like a gross invasion of your privacy, I know, but I was gonna tell you today. And I would’ve told Billy to let you read them before?—”
“It’s okay.” She picks up the note, holding it between her fingers and dragging her bottom lip between her teeth. “If I knew what was in the notes, I might find it to be a gross invasion, too. But since I’m curious…” Her eyes flicker with a soft playfulness. Humor, even in a humorless situation. “But I was more interested in the name of my therapist.”
I fill two bowls with cereal and pour milk, then, dropping a spoon in each bowl, I slide one across and offer her a small smile in the shadows. “Lemme see you eat before I go. I’m still your doctor, even when we’re not inside the hospital.”
She blushes, warming under my stare and hooking her hand around the bowl to bring it closer. “Thank you.”
“Welcome.” I wander around to my stool and settle in adjacent to her, my foot on the footrest and my knee… where it would normally tap hers. But not today. Not while she’s huddled the way she is. “What about your therapists’ names?”
“Well… that’s just it.” She places the note back down again. “Therapists. Plural.” She scoops cereal onto her spoon and carefully slides it onto her tongue. “The topic of therapists came up last night at the restaurant.”
“On your date?”
She purses her lips, her stare turning flat. “Fact-finding expedition. Not a date.”
“Candlelight dinner with your fiancéafterhe picked you up and gave you roses, I might add. Red roses.”
“Which reminds me.” She glances around the kitchen. “Where are they?”
I lower my gaze and stare at my cereal like it holds all the world’s secrets. But fuck, I can’t help the smirk curling across my lips. “Can’t remember. Might’ve accidentally dropped them in the trash.”
She snickers, shaking her head from side to side. “Green is such a lovely shade on you, Doctor Douchebag. The flowers were beautiful. They would’ve cost at least a hundred bucks, and you so callously tossed them away?”
“Dropped. Accidentally. But I feel awful about it, so I fully intend to duck across to Mrs. Gunderson’s house at some point today to get you a fresh new display.” I scoop a heaped spoonful into my mouth and smile around my food. “It’s the right thing to do. What’s the therapist's significance?”
“Oh…” She looks down at the note. Staring. Considering. “Darcy said I went to therapy after Seth’s death seven years ago, that I stayed with her for about a year, and revisited when my grandfather died.”
“Okay…?” I’m brutally aware of the time. Of how soon I have to drag my ass out of this house. Of the very real fucking fact Ihaveto leave her here. Alone. “What about it?”
“I asked if I continued to see Doctor Mara, especially in the wake of my parents’ death. He said no, because she had retired, and soon after that, she’d died.”
“That makes sense, then.” I reach across and tap the note. “Doctor Mara’s files cover the earlier years. Doctor Pratlin’s comes later.”
“But Darcy said I didn’twanta new therapist. He said I said I couldn’t be bothered, because I didn’t want to start over or go to the trouble of rehashing the past.” She slides her tongue across her lips, frowning. “Did I lie to my fiancé? Or maybe I changed my mind… but didn’t tell him?”
“Uh… hmm…” I swallow my mouthful and glance across as the coffee pot finally beeps that it’s done. Pushing off my stool, I circle the counter and pour. “That’s a good question, isn’t it?”
ME - May 7, 8:23am
Where are you and Darcy going today for date number two?
ROSE - 8:25am
