Yeah, I’ll bet you did, bitch. I really don’t like this woman. I like that she’s helping Lace, but apart from that I could quite happily never set eyes on her again. Ever. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” She raises one eyebrow at me, dragging her gaze over me as though she can’t really stand what’s she’s seeing either. “We had an agreement, didn’t we? And as far as I’m aware, you’re still seeing my friend. So therefore…”
“Therefore you think I should be coming to you for therapy,” I growl. “I’ve been thinking about that, and I’ve decided to seek help elsewhere. No offense.”
“Oh?” She sets one hand on her hip, leaning against the doorframe to her building. “And who’s treating you?”
“Dr. Phil.” Lacey whacks me on the arm with her folder, chuckling at my sarcastic response. Newan doesn’t appear to be quite as amused.
“Right. Well, I have to admit I fully expected you to flake. Never mind. I was just hoping you’d care enough about Sloane to get things squared away before delving in too deep with her.”
She’s baiting me. I know it, can see it a mile away, and yet I still rise to it. “And what things do I need squared away?”
Her bland look of boredom is so at odds with her next words. “Well, there’s the time you spent in prison. That’s undoubtedly left a few residual issues behind. And your abuse as a child. Victims of violence at an early age tend to become violent offenders later in life.”
My blood is boiling in my veins. For half a second I think Sloane’s told this woman all about me, but then she says something else and I know for a certainty that it wasn’t Sloane. It can’t have been.
“And then of course there’s the history with your mother.”
Sloane doesn’t know about my mother. No one knows about her. Not even Lacey. The only people who have any sort of records about her or her past are the cops, which means that Dr. Newan must have pulled my file to get my details, and then in turn gone snooping into my fucking shit.
Lacey looks like she’s been slapped around the face. “What does that mean? What about your mom?”
I slowly climb three of the steps toward Sloane’s friend, my hands twitching at my sides. I have to remember to breathe—to not react without thinking. “You’re gonna mind your own fucking business from here on in, Pippa Newan. You’re gonna keep your nose out of my past. You’re not gonna concern yourself with my future, either. If you’re going to take that out on Lacey, then so be it. I can find another doctor who can give her treatment easily enough. And finally, you’re going to give Sloane the respect she deserves. She’s a smart woman. She can figure out what she wants all on her own without you pulling strings and interfering in her business, either. You feel me?”
She should never have brought up my mother. She should never have gone rifling into things that don’t concern her or anyone else for that matter. I stare her down, clenching my jaw, daring her to say another fucking word.
To my right, it looks as though Lacey’s post-session high has come crashing down around her ears, and silent tears are streaking down her cheeks. She tucks herself into my side, not turning around to look at Newan. I feel like a massive shit for probably ruining whatever progress Lace made with the doctor, but fuck me if I’m gonna be manipulated or maneuvered in any way, shape or form.
Newan stares back down at me, hand still on her hip. She doesn’t blink. She’s good—she doesn’t give anything away. I can’t tell if her plan was to get me to react badly in order to make her point, or if the last few minutes haven’t exactly gone the way she’d expected. Either way, she’s maintaining her cool.
“There are two different kinds of victims in this life, Mr. Mayfair,” she says, her voice the kind of cold that only a true scientist can affect. “The kind who crumble under the weight of the horrific things that have happened to them or those they love, and then there’s the kind who use their experiences to shut themselves off from everything. And those people, the people that shut themselves off? There’s never room for two people in the safe, comfortable world they build for themselves. If you try and fit Sloane into yours, Zeth, you’re going to break her.”
I wrap my arm around Lacey’s shoulder, turning to guide her away from the other woman. “You’re wrong,” I call over my shoulder. “We’re not all cookie-cutter fuckups. And living in my world? That’s only going to make Sloane stronger.”
I feel the certainty of those words in my bones.
******
There’s yet another message waiting for me when I head back to the warehouse. It’s only been one fucking day and he’s already getting impatient. This time, his note is a little more concise. A little more demanding.
I wouldn’t leave it too long, Zee. You make me wait much longer and other people will start paying the price.