Page 11 of Big Trouble
4
Lo
Why was I sitting on the floor of my treatment room crying?
I’d been yelled at before, hit, spit on, cursed at, and more besides.
Why were Jack Cairney’s insults any different?
Maybe this was supposed to show me I wasn’t nearly as good as I thought I was.
I wasn’t cut out to be the big fish in the small pond.
I should go back to Chicago and tread water there instead.
The thoughts I’d had about leaving, but hadn’t shared with Ciara, resurfaced. It wasn’t about not having dates or not going to a decent bar. My career was important and what I’d thought of as a fantastic opportunity hadn’t turned out that way at all. All the hard work and training I’d put in had been pissed on by some egotistical local who clearly thought the sun shone out of his ass.
In a matter of minutes, I’d gone from confident to insecure and begun questioning everything.
“Lauren? Where’s Mr. Cairney?” Mr. O’Connell, the most senior consultant in the department, and also my boss, stood in the doorway.
I scrambled to my feet, swiping at my eyes, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears. “He left.” I tried to sound light and airy, like it was perfectly normal for me to be chilling out on the floor when I should be with a client. Like Jack’s ridiculously early departure wasn’t a big deal. I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince, Mr. O’Connell or me.
“He left?” His eyebrows shot up. “He would’ve been here for less than ten minutes. How do we bill the insurance company for that?”
“We don’t. Take it out of my pay, if you want.” I shrugged.
He frowned. “Lauren, did something happen?”
If I thought we had the kind of boss/employee relationship where I told him everything then Mr. O’Connell would know exactly what had happened. But we didn’t. He grudgingly gave me the job here—when I’m sure there were plenty of nieces, nephews, godchildren or other Cali Cross alumni who he would have preferred to have employed. He didn’t need to know that Jack stormed out because I hurt him. And Jack retaliated by hurting me instead.
“I, um, don’t think he was quite ready for the level of therapy he requires. I may have pushed him too far for session one,” I lied. I’d barely been able to examine him properly. For all I knew, I had done more damage than good. It didn’t look like I’d get the chance to find out though. Maybe someone else should take over Jack’s sessions. Like Ciara. They clearly had history. She’d welcome the opportunity to work with him I was sure.
“Hmm, well, he was in a pretty bad way. Maybe you need to ease him into it a little more gently at the next session, hey?” Mr. O’Connell paused on his way out. “Which means you’ve got plenty of time now to catch up on that backlog of paperwork I was going to talk to you about.” He gave me a tight smile and left the room.
Once he was safely out of the way, I sank down at my desk and rested my head in my hands. I scrunched up my eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. I didn’t know why Jack Cairney had affected me so much.
Impulsively, I brought up a search engine and typed his name into it. Unsurprisingly, there were heaps of articles about his accident. I found myself morbidly clicking through the numerous videos of the incident. Jesus, no wonder he was screwed up. How the riders walked away from these crashes I would never fathom. I suspected improvements in their kit had something to do with it. Before long, I was searching for MotoGP protective gear. I learned all about air bags, knee sliders, elbow pads and helmets. I learned about things I never knew I needed to know.
When my computer dinged with the reminder for my next appointment, I’d lost the best part of forty-five minutes.
Mr. O’Connell’s paperwork catch up would have to wait.
There was a face at the door and Ciara peeked in.
“Hey, how’d it go?” Her grin told me she expected it to have been a great session.
“It was…” I began but I couldn’t stop the tear that slid down my cheek. Whether it was what had happened with Jack, seeing his accident in glorious technicolor or I was about to get my period, I didn’t know. Tears twice in one day wasn’t my style.
“Shit, Lo!” Ciara banged the door shut behind her and rushed over to me. “What happened?” Her eyes were wide with alarm. “You’ve never cried over a patient before.”
I tried to give her a smile but failed miserably.
“Remember the kid who peed on you?” she reminded me. “And you knew he did it on purpose.”
“But man, did I work out his wrist while I had him clean up.” I managed a small joke.
“Jack didn’t pee on you, did he?”
