Page 14 of Done with You

She nodded. “I—” Exhaling, she released the door latch on her side and stepped into her office, leaving the door open for him to follow. She circled around her obnoxiously tidy desk, but didn’t sit down in the chair. Everything on her desk was at a right angle and arranged either according to color or size. She had very little in the way of decorations besides a purple orchid on her filing cabinet behind her. No pictures, no paintings, or art. Her diplomas from Brown University and McGill University were the only things on the wall. “I can’t see you,” she finally said.

He wasn’t quite at the two comfy chairs she had facing her desk, but was close enough that he was able to take another step and rest his hand on the plush back of one. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t treat you. I’m sorry.”

“But … but you have to. I’ve been on the waitlist to see you for months. If I don’t see you, if I don’t complete anger management, I can’t go back to work.”

“I know that. And I’m happy to refer you to someone else, but—”

“But then I’ll just be stuck on their waitlist for another four months-or longer! You’re holding my job hostage because we slept together once?”

Anger bubbled up hot and heavy in his chest, like a pot of thick gravy on the stove that somebody had left on to boil.

“It’s unethical.”

He rolled his eyes. “Didn’t stop you last night.”

“I thought you were Caden last night. I had no idea you were Aiden, my new patient.”

“So, you’re not doing anything wrong, then. I wasn’t your patient last night. It’s not unethical. What would be unethical was if I bent you over that desk right now and called you a good girl.”

A high tide of blood rose up her neck and into her cheeks, turning them blotchy and red. “It’s still unethical to treat someone I know personally. I could lose my license. I could lose my job.”

He snorted and shook his head. “What about my job?”

“I don’t want you to lose your job, either. But if I treated you and someone found out that we … were together, they could invalidate your treatment. Accuse me of manufacturing the data, of declaring you fit to return to work when you’re not. I’m looking out for both of our careers.”

His palms curled into fists on the top of the chair, and her eyes lasered in on them. She took a half-step back. “Being suspended and forced to attend anger management classes should be enough penance for what happened,” he ground out.

“You punched a person after you pulled him over. And apparently after prior warnings for over-the-top behavior regarding drunk drivers. I’d say all things considered, you’re lucky they’re not firing you after the investigation from the Civilian Review and Complaints Commission came back. The fact that they’re giving you a second chance and simply asking you to learn from your mistakes before you return to active duty is HUGE, and not something I’ve ever seen before. Take this as a win. But if I treat you, it will compromise this second chance significantly.”

“He was a drunk driver and he had his daughter in the back! As far as I’m concerned, he got off pretty lucky just getting punched. No charges were ever filed. So he’s free to do it again.”

“I understand that, and as horrible as that is, you are an officer of the law and are supposed to conduct yourself in a more professional manner. You are supposed to be able to restrain yourself. The judge made the ruling that in order for you to return to active duty, you need to complete twenty hours of therapy and six months of anger management.”

He gnashed his molars together. He was well aware of the facts, and it grated on him that she was, too.

Not that Dr. Young was aware, but that Luna was aware. That Luna, or Oona or whatever the fuck her name was, the woman he’d spent the night with last night, the first woman he’d really connected with in ages, and liked, knew his history.

All of it.

All the dirty, humiliating, shameful details. He saw his file sitting on her desk, and it wasn’t a thin file. This was his first suspension, but he had prior warnings for over-the-top behavior regarding drunk drivers. He had anger issues, and when he saw that poor child sitting in the backseat after her father had been swerving all over the road, Aiden let his rage spill over, and he wound up suspended.

It didn’t matter that he was suspended with pay. He wanted to be working for that money, not sitting at home with his finger up his ass, waiting while more drunk drivers swerved in the streets and killed people.

Her gaze softened and she pressed her lips together before she spoke. “I will write the court and simply state that there is a conflict of interest and I am unable to treat you. I am sorry. I will make a recommendation for a colleague and see what I can do to expedite your time on the waitlist.”

But even with that softened gaze, her sympathy felt forced. She was cold and … robotic in the way she spoke to him. This wasn’t the Luna he’d met last night. The Luna who had confidently, salaciously swung around a pole on stage while wearing six-inch plastic heels. The woman who’d worn a corset and thong and gave a lap dance to an empty chair at the same time she gave everyone in the crowd come-fuck-me-eyes. The woman who’d climbed over him, straddled his face and asked him how long he could hold his breath. That woman was pure heat. Pure fire.

This woman, this Dr. Oona Young, wore a boring beige pantsuit with a light purple blouse underneath. Her caramel-colored hair was pulled back and twisted up into one of those French twist things. She had on minimal makeup, nude lipstick, and pearl studs in her ears. She looked a lot older, too. Lines he hadn’t seen before—and he’d studied every inch of her, including her face—were fine, but noticeable around her eyes and between her brows. If it wasn’t for the brown and gold eyes and that tiny little freckle or beauty mark below her right eye, he would have thought she had a stuck-up twin or something.

But her frigid approach to their situation only made the waves of anger lash harder against his insides until his throat burned with a frothy bile and his pulse hammered wildly in his ears. “Forget it,” he gritted out.

“I really am sorry, Ca-Aiden.”

“Yeah, you really sound sorry.”

“I am sorry. But I can’t jeopardize my career, or yours.”

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