Page 27 of Brambles and Bellflowers
Yuck. Black coffee was the worst, but I would never give in and put cream and sugar in it now.
“I saw your father this morning,” he said, interrupting my pout.
My throat closed, and the drink in my mouth became even more bitter. “W-w-what?”
His expression was carefully blank, but his gaze keen. “You don’t want to meet him?” he asked.
I breathed through my nausea, barely holding back my panic at the familiar way his eyes moved over my face.
This wasawesome. I was being psychoanalyzed. I thought I was used to it, but Dr. Stephens was still unfamiliar territory.
What was taking Damen so long? Why wasn’t he rushing back to my side?
“No.” I fought to keep my voice steady. “I don’t want to meet him.”
“He would like to meet you,” Dr. Stephens said, leaning over his desk. His eyes, sharp behind his glasses, seemed to dissect my every reaction. “Is there a reason why you’re avoiding him?”
I might puke on Dr. Stephens’s desk. He would deserve it, especially since he knew exactly what he was doing to me. “I—I don’t know?”
Dr. Stephens’s expression remained neutral, but his eyes showed a glimmer of professional curiosity. “Do you think it’s because seeing him might trigger you into confronting aspects of your past you’re not ready to face?”
“What?” Why was I acting so pathetic?
“It’s a natural response,” he continued, commanding a clinical tone. “How do you typically handle intrusive thoughts or memories about your past?”
My skin began to flush as I swallowed hard. “I—I don’t have those. I’m fine.”
Dr. Stephens leaned back slightly, but his gaze remained intense. “When you say ‘fine,’ what exactly does that mean to you?”
“I—” I started, then stopped. My heart was racing, and I felt sweat beading on my forehead. “Why are you asking me all this?”
Dr. Stephens’s expression softened slightly. “As your Elder Er Bashou and a professional, I am responsible for ensuring your well-being. Your reluctance to discuss your past with Eric Richards is concerning.”
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I felt like I was suffocating. I looked away from him. “N-nothing happened,” I said, my throat burning.
“Bianca,” Dr. Stephens said. “Refusing to acknowledge what happened won’t make it disappear. Don’t you think it might be beneficial to work through these feelings?”
My vision was starting to blur at the edges. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I just wanted to run away, to escape this interrogation. “I-I can’t—”
“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.
But then he looked away.
He turned to Dr. Stephens, seething. “What are you doing?”
“Being proactive,” was Dr. Stephens’s calm reply. “Since you’re neglecting to do so.”
Damen’s aura burned with a vicious fury. “Are youtryingto trigger her?” His hands shook as he ran them down my arms and turned his attention back to me. “Baby, it’s all right.”
I wanted to respond, but 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 a family matter.” Dr. Stephens didn’t seem concerned about the anger in Damen’s voice.
“I-it’s fine…” My clarity was returning, and the buzzing in my ears faded. Slowly, the rest of the room zoomed into focus. Even though he’d been addressing Damen, Dr. Stephens watched me curiously. It was him I addressed. “I don’t want to meet him,” I repeated.
