Page 87 of For Her Own Good

He must sense my hesitation, because he presses. “I realize your father didn’t like me, didn’t trust me. But I think my proposal might interest you.”

It feels like a betrayal of my father to say yes, to even be considering this. I suppose it’s possible, too, Garrett could outwit me, but I have a team of lawyers—he’s got to know I’m not agreeing to jack shit before I check with them. It’s perhaps juvenile, but I wish Lowry could come with me. If I were a man and I brought my wife or girlfriend or just a pretty face, I don’t think it would be construed as odd or weak. But I’m not a man. If I say my boyfriend—is he my boyfriend?—slash ex-psychiatrist will be accompanying me… No can do because that would be as good as tossing a bucket of chum into shark-infested waters, and I’m smart enough not to make my position seem any weaker than it already is.

Also, what’s the worst that could happen? I’ll have some other dickhead man make an offer I can totally refuse? What if this is legit? What if this is the answer? It’s probably worth a couple of hours to find out.

“Fine. But I don’t take kindly to people fucking with me, so if this is an effort to take advantage, I’d advise you to reconsider. I guarantee I have faced down bigger demons than you and won. As you found my phone number, I’m sure you can locate my email. I’ll be free Friday evening after seven thirty next week, let me know where you’d like to meet.”

Then I hang up, because that’s what I do to men who make me nervous.

* * *

Lowry

We’ve had our team meeting where we have an opportunity to discuss difficult cases and anything else we’d like to talk about. Obviously Tony came up, and while it was difficult, it could have been a great deal worse. I’ve been in touch with Emily, attended the funeral—alone, though I would’ve liked Starla to be by my side; it didn’t seem fair to ask her to come, given her mother, given her own complicated relationship with suicide. It’s still a loss, I still wonder if there isn’t more I could’ve done, but the guilt isn’t crushing. I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve grown as a professional and I’m learning how to handle these terrible but inevitable parts of my job better, or if it’s something else. Something like having Starla there to comfort and hold me.

I’ve headed back to my office and sat down at my desk to review the patients I’ll be seeing for the rest of the day. It’s not an overly stressful slate, but I want to do well by them. Especially after Starla’s helped me with my schedule. I can’t believe the difference. I’m a far better clinician because the woman knows what she’s talking about.

There’s a knock on my doorframe and looking up, Lacey’s there.

“Thought I’d check in with you. See how you’re doing. I know what a blow losing Tony has been.”

I nod, thankful for the empathetic but not pitying or disgusted way she’s looking at me. She knows what this is like, she’s lost patients as well, this is professional courtesy and sympathy, not that she thinks I’ve cocked this up.

“I keep expecting him to walk in the door, as though he’s not gone. I knew things weren’t good. I had a feeling things were that bad, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do. I wish I could’ve done something else, but even talking to Emily… It’s god-awful is what it is, and about one percent for me what it is for her and those girls. Always hard to lose a patient, but I don’t need to tell you that.”

“No, you don’t. It’s hard to watch anyone spiraling and feeling as though they’re out of your reach. You can’t be flinging yourself over the edge to try to save them either, not if you want to be there for all the other patients who need you.”

That’s true enough. Put on your own oxygen mask and all that. It’ll take time and it will never really leave, but we move forward, we have to, otherwise…what’s the point? That doesn’t seem to be the only reason Lacey is here, though. Indeed, her brows crease.

“I wanted to speak with you too…”

Something pricks the back of my neck because this is something she clearly didn’t want to discuss in front of the team. Privacy is apparently called for because she steps fully into my office and closes the door behind her but doesn’t take a seat.

“What about?”

“This is extraordinarily awkward, I suspect for all involved, but I have to ask. Are you seeing Starla Patrick?”

I knew this would come up sometime. Knew it, and yet am still wildly unprepared, have no response ready to give. Haven’t talked to Starla about it even, which I should have done, but we always have other things to do. Things to talk about, sex to have, games to play, on and on. I’m consumed by her whenever she’s nearby and honestly when she’s not. I’ve even started thinking to myself when working with some of my patients, “What would Starla do?” because she’s fecking brilliant.

I don’t want to hoist this responsibility on Starla, but I also don’t want to disclose anything to her psychiatrist that she wouldn’t want disclosed. This is rather a spot to find myself in and I put my pen down, lean back in my chair. We haven’t done anything wrong. At least Starla hasn’t. Lacey may very well feel differently about me, knowing my history with Starla. But I’m hoping she also knows me and that will count for something.

“I don’t know that this is my information to share. I’m not trying to be evasive, it’s only, privacy is privacy. Obviously there’s no doctor-patient privilege here—anymore—but Starla’s wishes about what details of her life are shared and with whom are still paramount to me.”

Lacey nods but folds her arms over her chest. “I appreciate that, but…”

A shake of her head and a sigh.

“I think you’re a good man and an excellent clinician, and it’s not technically a violation of the ethics guidelines, but I’m not sure this is wise. You weren’t here to deal with the aftermath of your departure, but it was ugly. Not as ugly as what had come before, but it wasn’t good. Of course, this is all hypothetical. I have no proof, just the gut feeling that comes from how she smiles to herself in my office when she’s seen you passing by in the hallway. Or the way you studiously avoid my gaze when I talk about Starla in a team meeting.”

I can’t say anything else without betraying Starla’s trust, but I feel Lacey’s words like a knife to the chest. It must’ve been terrible. I worried about it every goddamn day when I’d left, and it never really went away. So I get where she’s at, I do, but as she said, it’s an awkward position.

“Of course,” I echo, not sure where to go from here and feeling as though I’ve disappointed my boss who I respect very much and also Starla, the woman who’s the love of my life, by saying too much but not enough at the same time.

Lacey levels me with a glare like, “I can’t fucking believe you’re leaving me hanging like this, you right proper numpty,” but I’ve got nothing else to give. Not to her, anyhow. Her suspicions are bad enough, I’m not going to give her proof.

“All right, then. I’m sure we’ll talk later.”

“Of course,” I say again because I’m not sure what else to do. I’ll talk to Starla later, but beyond that…who the fuck knows. Not this guy, that’s for sure.

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