Page 27 of Balance
What was taking Damen so long? Why wasn’t he rushing to come back to my side?
“No.” I fought to keep my voice steady. “I don’t want to meet him.”
“He wants to meet you,” Dr. Stephens said, pressing, leaning over his desk. “Did you know he’s never had a chance to see you in person?”
For real, I might actually puke on Dr. Stephens’s desk. He would totally deserve it, especially since he clearly knew exactly what he was doing to me.
“Do you blame him for what happened?” Dr. Stephens asked.
“I don’t want to t-t-talk about it.” Why was I acting so pathetic? What happened to my bravery? I’d resolved to not run away from my past anymore.
But that was with Dr. Kohler. Talking to Dr. Stephens was an entirely different story.
And why did he have to be right?
I did blame my biological father, foreverything. This was his fault. No matter what was happening, it had been his responsibility to step up and take care of me.
Instead, he allowed me to be taken right from his home.
It was humiliating enough the boys knew about my past. Even though I knew, logically, that he was aware, I’d hardly had time—or the mental space—to come to terms with the fact thatDr. Stephenswas also in the know.
What if…
Dark dots began to swim in the corners of my vision, and my skin buzzed.
If Dr. Stephens knew… Didn’t it also mean thathedid too?
This would just be another reason for my father to look down on me.
“What the fuck?” Damen’s voice snapped through the room, and an instant later he’d twisted my chair to face him. He was kneeling on the ground at my feet, and cupped my face gently, gray eyes flashing dangerously as they sought out mine.
Our gazes locked, and my breath steadied as the force of his strength almost seemed to pour from him.
For an instant, time seemed to stop. The air stilled.
But then he looked away.
He turned to Dr. Stephens, seething. “What are you doing?”
“Checking something,” was Dr. Stephens’s calm reply.
“You’re lucky I came back when I did.” Damen’s voice burned with a venomous fury. “Are youtryingto trigger her?” His hands shook as he ran them down my arms and he turned his attention back to me. “Baby, it’s all right.”
I wanted to respond, but for some reason, I couldn’t form the words. Instead, I just watched him, trying to regain my bearings as the darkness faded from my vision.
“What were you talking about?” he asked Dr. Stephens, fuming once again.
“Just some family matters.” Dr. Stephens didn’t seem concerned about the anger in Damen’s voice. “Nothing really to concern you.”
“I-i-it’s fine…” I’d broken through the surface; clarity was returning and the buzzing in my ears faded. Slowly, the rest of the room zoomed into focus. Dr. Stephens, even though he’d been addressing Damen, was watching me curiously. It was him I addressed. “I don’t want to meet him.”
“Don’t want to meet who?” Damen’s hands were warm over my upper arms, and his grip tightening into an almost-bruising hold.
“My father…” I bit my lip, focusing on the chain resting over his chest. Today he wore black slacks and a burgundy shirt, and, like always, he’d had the top two buttons undone. There, against a black undershirt, rested the now-familiar charm that, once again, stirred something in my consciousness I couldn’t quite place.
But if Damen noticed me looking, he didn’t comment. Instead, he rounded on Dr. Stephens. “I can’t believe you asked her! We already talked about this!”
“I wanted to see if she’d consider it,” Dr. Stephens explained. “He’s quite eager…”
