Page 4 of Shadowman
“What do you think it means?”
I hate when he asks me that.As if he isn’t fully aware of what it means already.
But he wantsmeto say it. Not even to find out if I’m smart enough to be on his shared wavelength… He knows that I am.
He wants to hear me say the words.
Pausing—for dramatic effect—I give him a taste of his own medicine. I wish I could say that it causes even the tiniest reaction from him, but it doesn’t.The bloke’s like stone. “I think it means that I wish I’d killed my parents.”
Dr. Love stares at me for a moment, giving me that blank robot-gaze, penetrating in its rigidness. He taps his pen on his notebook. Twice. I try not to notice it because I rather enjoy holding his eyes. It makes me feel like less of a head-case patient to one of the best clinical psychiatrists in the country.
Finally, he speaks, after a few heavy seconds that hang in the air like smoke. “How do you feel about the fact that you didn’t?”
I shrug, bored. Noncommittal.
He’s not buying it.
Releasing a slow breath, I shift in my seat. “Maybe a tad edgy. Knowing they’re still out there… Living.Breathing… when they don’t deserve to be.”
The amber in his eyes lights up a bit. It’s dazzling to witness, and even more captivating to know thatImade it happen.
“How do you know they’re still alive? Have you checked?” he asks curiously, with the accompanied head tilt and everything.
“Well,no,” I huff. He gives me a look. “But I can tell they are. If they were dead, I’d feel it. In my bones…”
He blinks, as if he finds this notion ridiculous. And of course he does. He’s a doctor; a researcher, ascientist. Things must always be black and white, a factual explanation for everything.It’s his one weakness.
Dr. Love sits back, crossing his left ankle over his right knee. It lifts his tailored dress slacks enough that I can see his socks. Navy blue to match his button-down shirt. He’s not the type of bloke to wear socks with fancy patterns or comical depictions on them, as if one’s socks are an expression of their personality. The Wall Street bankers in their Tom Ford suits, wearing socks with designs fromGame of ThronesorStranger Thingsto prove they’re more than what meets the immediate eye.
Hey, I’m not a boring corporate wanker! Look at my socks. That’s Patrick fromSpongeBob!
Although, if we’re being honest, Dr. Love’s humorless dress socks might be exactly that. A look into hisPost Raisin Branpersonality, and a proud one, at that. He has no hidden eccentricities to show when his pants ride up.
He’s an organic individual. What you see is what you get. And what youseeis a stoic, unsmiling enemy of the cheerfulrobot-person, whose only joy is derived from cracking open the skulls of deranged human beings like myself and poking around inside.Figuratively, of course.
Still… he makes it look good.
My eyes travel up from the drab sock, getting lost in how well his slacks fit the obviously muscular shape of his legs. The same goes for his torso… Sometimes it looks like his clothes are painted onto his body. As if he stands naked in his closet every morning and, like a tanning booth, has his expensive attire sprayed onto the curves and slopes of hardened definition that he undoubtedly works quite hard to craft.
And I’m drooling.
“Trevel,” he says my name the way he’s been saying it for the last three years; like he’s mydoctorand I’m hispatient.That’s all.
He’s only with me because he’s being paid to be, and thus any flutters that may occur when hearing him speak my name are completely one-sided and foolish.
I jump, startled out of the way I was ogling him—hopefully not too blatantly.“Hm?”
His eyes narrow. “I asked if you’ve thought any more about what we discussed.”
“Right.” I clear my throat. “No, not really.”
“And why not?”
“Because I just…” I pause to consideranotherway to explain this to him, since it doesn’t seem to be registering. “I don’t want to scare her away.”
Dr. Love appears surprised by what I’m saying. As much as he’s able, anyway.Maybe fifteen percent.“Do you think what you have with Alice is that fickle?”
Yes.“No… Not necessarily.” My jaw tightens a bit, and I look down. “But we’re only still getting to know one another.”
