“It’s a plan, then,” I said. “We’ll go see Larry. Does tomorrow work for you?”
“I set up a bunch of appointments to look at houses tomorrow. How about sometime next week?”
“Sounds good. God knows I have work to do around the ranch.”
Something occurred to me then, something I hadn’t yet asked Bryce about. “Tell me about Henry’s mother. What happened between you two?”
Bryce chuckled. “She was really hot, and I was drunk and in Las Vegas. That’s about the sum of it. Not one of my finer moments.”
“So how long were you two together?”
“About a year. She got pregnant the first night we were together. My own damned fault. I was shit-faced and forgot the condom. She gave me the ‘Oh, honey, it’s okay. I’m on the pill,’ line. What a crock.”
“She’s not the first one to use that line.”
“Yes, I should’ve known better. I’m not an idiot.”
“No, you’re not. But look at that cute little boy you got out of it. Is she in the picture at all now?”
“Not really, and it’s just as well. She has no business having a kid. I requested custody, and she didn’t fight me on it. It was a quickie divorce, just like it had been a quickie marriage.”
“At least it was a relationship. It’s more than I’ve had.”
“It was no relationship, Joe. It was a one-night stand with consequences.”
“What was her name?”
“Francine. Francine Stokes. She’s a topless dancer.”
I smirked. “Are you going to tell Henry about her one day?”
“Of course I will. He has a right to know who his mother is.”
I nodded. “I never thought about having kids, at least not until I saw you with Henry when you came back to town.”
“Neither did I,” Bryce said. “But I have one now. And you know what? I’m not sure how I ever got along without the little guy. Kids change things, Joe. I can’t say how much I look forward to his little smile. And my parents are having a blast. I’m no spring rooster. I wasn’t sure I’d ever have a kid, but I’m sure glad I do.”
My parents hadn’t lived to see any grandchildren, but I felt certain there would be some. Jade and Talon would probably have a child at some point. Would I? I’d have liked to think I would.
Melanie Carmichael’s face popped into my head. She had gotten to me the first time I saw her, and now, after that kiss… I wasn’t sure how to deal with it. There wouldn’t be any need to deal with it, because she had called it off. She didn’t want to have a relationship with me, so I had no other choice. If I wanted to see her, I had to make another appointment for therapy.
Whether she would take my appointment was up in the air.
Chapter Six
Melanie
Gina’s parents had never contacted me.
I sat in my bedroom in my loft in downtown Grand Junction, reading over Gina’s file. Yes, it was self-torture, but after I had inadvertently come across her letter earlier, I couldn’t help myself. This was far from the first time I had pored through the file, wondering where I had gone wrong. I’d taken copious notes after each session, just like I did with all my patients. I never took notes during the session. I liked to concentrate on the patient. But I was very detailed in my notes once the session was over.
At no time during the six months I treated her had she given me any reason to indicate that she was suicidal. What had I missed? Had I not asked the right questions? Had I not read between the lines as I should have? And how could I have not realized she had feelings of love for me? How had I missed that?
Developing feelings for one’s therapist was very normal. I’d had it happen before in my career. It had been with a man, and I had nipped it in the bud right away and sent him to another therapist—just like I was going to do with Jonah Steel. Was it because Gina was a woman that I hadn’t seen it coming? And did the fact that she’d fallen in love with me have anything to do with how she presented herself? Perhaps she’d wanted to look good for me, and she put on an act so I wouldn’t realize she was suicidal.
I sighed. Gina had been through hell. But so had Talon Steel, and he wasn’t suicidal. So had most of my patients, and very few were suicidal. But Gina had been, and I hadn’t seen it.
A good therapist should have been able to tell. Frantically I searched the file, looking for something—anything—I had missed.
I eyed the cordless phone on my night table. So many times I’d been tempted to pick it up and call Gina’s parents, to offer my apology. I’d tried a few days after her death, but her mother had refused to take my call, and I’d been advised by counsel not to contact them again.
I had never been sued before, and I had no reason to believe I would be now.
Of its own accord, my hand reached for the phone. It was eight p.m., not too late to call. Without thinking, I dialed the number of Gina’s parents in Denver.
“Hello?” a masculine voice said.