Page 172 of Let the Game Begin
I scrubbed a hand over my face in resignation and pushed open the car’s door, but before I could climb out, Luke grasped my arm. I forced myself not to react to his uninvited touch.
“Are you sure everything’s cool with us?” he murmured uncertainly, as though already afraid how I might react.
What was he so worried about?
“You’d fuck her the minute she gave you an opening. Why wouldn’t we be cool?” I answered sourly and gave him a brazen grin. Then I got out of the car to avoid reopening a discussion that I was finding too uncomfortable just then.
Unfortunately for me, Selene had ignited a flame I had no real power to snuff out, because Luke and Xavier were just like me. They would have done anything to have her, even just to slither between her thighs one time. Plus, I suspected that a strange curiosity about Babygirl had been kindled in Luke. She’d given him a thin slice of her inexperience, but he wanted the whole pie.
He wanted to take my place at the table and feast—that’s what he wanted.
Without sparing Luke another glance, I went back into the house and headed for my room. I needed to get my car keys and take Chloe to the clinic. As soon as I walked into my room, however, my eyes landed on my bookcase. I noticed immediately that someone had moved my books. Miss Anna always respected my rules, one of which was that no one was ever to touch my stuff. I quickly deduced that there was only one person in the house who would have invaded my privacy like that: Selene.
I didn’t yell at her only because I didn’t have time. I would have to bawl her out later.
“I’m ready to go.” Chloe walked into the room, wearing a coat that let me know it was time to head out.
Once we were in the car, I did nothing but dwell on everything that had happened in the last few days: that fucking puzzle, Player 2511 and his anonymous call, the kiss between Selene and Luke, Logan and his accident.
On top of everything else, my brother had recently told me that he’d seen Player in a black Jeep before the accident. He’d followed him and even waved right before Logan went off the road and nearly died. I felt anger flare up with a passion at the idea of that bastard delighting in causing my brother’s near-fatal accident.
“I need to know your every move from now on,” I said abruptly to Chloe as I parked in front of the psychiatric clinic.
“What?” she asked confusedly.
“You heard me. You have to tell me where you’re going, who you’re going there with, everything you do,” I repeated firmly as we got out of the car.
“Are you feeling okay?” She followed along behind me with her eyebrows raised. I locked the car with the fob, and we headed for the entrance.
“You do as I say, end of discussion,” I ordered in my typical rough fashion, and fortunately, she chose not to reply.
We walked into Dr. Lively’s high-end clinic, and I glanced around. There was the usual classical Muzak, the usual saggy-assed woman behind the latest generation of computer, the usual orderlies wandering the halls, andthe usual waiting room where we would sit on chic sofas and wait for Dr. Lively to receive us.
“I’m feeling antsy,” Chloe groused, snatching up a magazine to flip through in the hopes of soothing some of the nerves she got every time she had another session with the psychiatrist.
“It’ll be fine, just like the other times,” I reassured her, taking a seat next to her. I balanced one ankle on the opposite knee and tried to tamp down the thoughts that were filling up my brain. I already had a giant headache, and there was still a lot of day left.
“Oh, Chloe, it’s nice to see you. I was just waiting for you to arrive.” Dr. Lively approached us, and as soon as she stood to join him, he put an arm around her shoulders. “Ready for a nice little talk?” He smiled at her and Chloe nodded uncertainly as they walked toward his office.
I tried to avoid my former psychiatrist’s gaze, but when I felt his eyes boring into me, I had to lift my chin.
“I hope that one day you’ll come to my clinic to do more than just accompany Chloe,” said the doctor pointedly. I had to give him credit: Krug wasn’t a man who gave up easily. But I was a stubborn patient who had no intention of letting him shrink my head again.
“People say hope springs eternal, but that seems hard on the knees, doctor.” I gave him an irritating smile, and he didn’t answer but only scowled at me and stuck his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
“I’m confident you’ll change your mind one day.” He turned and vanished into his office, closing the door behind him.
Once I was alone again, I stared at the white clinic walls, which did nothing but bring back memories and trigger the urge to flee, to escape. I couldn’t, though, because I needed to wait until Chloe was done.
I stood up from the couch and started pacing the waiting room. Distantly, I heard melancholy piano music that was supposed to soothe patients but only managed to irritate and aggravate me.
“This music is shit,” I said, aware that the receptionist could hear me, but I didn’t care.
I always said what I was thinking.
Bored, I stopped abruptly to stare at one of the paintings on the wall.The caption read: “Titian,Sacred and Profane Love, oil on canvas, 46in ×110in, circa 1515.”
“I’m sorry you’re not enjoying the shitty music,” said an immediately recognizable voice. The tall, impressive man was watching me with a delighted smile—it was Dr. Keller. He nodded at me and considered the painting I’d been looking at. I’d only been looking out of boredom, not because I was especially interested in art, though I supposed I knew enough about it.
