Healing Touch: Play Doctor, Book 2 (4 page)

Reading people seemed like second nature to her escort. In ten seconds, he’d given her more reassurance than Brad had in seven years. How could she have been so blind? Maybe because she hadn’t believed men like this existed.

She stumbled.

Luke wrapped his arm around her waist, supporting her as they crossed into his space. Glass and chrome sparkled everywhere. It was so open to the outside she could forget there were walls at all. Sky hung above them. City stretched out below. She’d never visited a spot that made her feel less closed in. Less caged.

Part of her relaxed. A fragment deep down that hadn’t taken a breath…maybe ever.

He smiled at her as he led her to an angular black sofa.

“Would you like that drink first? Or are you ready to talk?” He only released her hand when she’d settled into the surprisingly comfortable leather. “Sorry, I don’t have any chocolate to offer you. I should put a bowl out.”

“I’m tempted to take the coward’s option and delay our discussion.” She scrubbed a hand over her face. “But we’d better get down to business. There’s only so much we’ll be able to fit in my five sessions, and I’m afraid that’ll hardly be enough time to scratch the surface.”

“Why do you say that?” Luke turned his back, not pressuring her to respond but inquiring idly as he poured them both a tall glass of tea from the pitcher on the lacquered side bar. Ice clinked against the gorgeous crystal, adding to the luminosity of the space.

“Because I’m pretty screwed up.” No sense in beating around the bush.

“We all have our moments, Brielle.” Something about his huff made her curious.

“You?”

“Of course. Sometimes more than others.” He handed her the tea, then rubbed the nape of his neck. Part of her nearly volunteered to do it for him. How could he affect her like this? No one ever had. And after Brad, she thought no one ever would. Just being around him was a relief.

“Thank God.” She grinned when his eyebrows raised. “Everything about you, this place, seems so unblemished. I wasn’t sure you could understand.”

“Try me.” He surprised her by sitting beside her instead of in one of the chairs across the coffee table. “Do you mind?”

“No.” Brielle was pleased to find it was true. “You don’t have to ask. If you freak me out, I’ll let you know. It helps to feel less…alone.”

“I agree.” He nodded. “It’s easy to let life overwhelm you when you shoulder all your burdens single-handedly. I’m fortunate to have good friends, ones I’ve known for years, but lately it seems I can’t share with them without risking their feelings. Being gagged like that… It’s miserable.”

Knowing he could relate helped her divulge her secrets. “Exactly. It was such a relief to have the hotline operator to talk to the other night. Things get particularly bad in the dark. When I can’t sleep. And I lie there and think. Too much. It was easy to whisper my fears into the phone, and reassuring to know someone was listening, even if she couldn’t do much to help.”

“I know what you’re saying. Still, I think the operator did a pretty damn good job of assisting. After all, you’re here. Doing something different about your problems. Finding a new solution. Something better than getting by. I assume you’ve suffered for some time?”

“Yes. Years.” She swallowed hard, unable to say more.

“Then at least this is a step in the right direction. What you’ve been doing hasn’t resolved your issues. I hope we can work toward that goal together.” Genuine concern tinged his wish. At least she assumed it did. If not, he was a world-class actor in addition to a renowned psychologist.

“I have a phobia,” Brielle blurted.

“You’re not afraid of heights.” He smiled as she stared out the window, scanning from soaring birds to pavement in order to avoid looking into his eyes.

“Nope.” She laughed. “Small favors.”

“I wondered when you didn’t take the elevator. Some patients are scared of falling.” He sipped from his glass.

Brielle couldn’t help but stare as condensation gathered then dropped from the tumbler onto his chin. His Adam’s apple flexed when he wiped the beads from his stubbly chin. He paused to scratch at it.

“Your goatee is dark.” Speaking aloud hadn’t been her intention. The anomaly caught her off-guard.

“Weird, right?” He laughed. “I’ve never grown the thing out before. But lately, I don’t know, I guess I’ve felt like making a few changes myself.”

“Keep it.” Her smile reflected his. “No one can be perfect, you know. At least, not without annoying everyone around them.”

“Is that so?” He grinned.

“Yes. You need some idiosyncrasies. As long as you don’t go too far and frustrate people by being a freak.” She sighed.

“Has someone accused you of that?” A cloud floated above them, shading his face.

“Yes.” She glanced away again.

“Because you’re afraid of—”

“Being closed in small spaces.” A shudder raced up her spine. She took a big gulp of tea to wet her dry mouth.

“Plenty of people are claustrophobic, Brielle.” He set his glass down, leaving wet rings on the clear table. “It’s a very common affliction.”

“You’re talking about people buried alive in a coffin, submariners freaking out miles under the ocean or…I don’t know…something actually scary.” She shook her head. “This is different.”

“How?”

“I like that your doors are open.” The glass panels pinned against the wall left no doubt she could escape.

“No one else is working this weekend.” He shrugged. “There’s no one to overhear us.”

“Right. But I could leave if I wanted to.”

“At any time.” He held his hands out, palms toward her. Another shadow crossed his face. “Though I hope you’ll give me a chance to help.”

“I think you already are. After my boyfriend—well, my ex-boyfriend, Brad—made it clear I was no longer welcome…” She couldn’t divulge the whole truth yet, maybe not ever. “I didn’t think I could share again. You make it easy.”

“Thank you, Brielle.” He smiled sadly. “Though I’m not quite sure what we’re talking about yet. For the record, it sounds as if your boyfriend didn’t support you as you needed. Moron.”

He muttered the last under his breath. She caught it anyway.

“Is that your professional opinion?” Her giggle cut off. Would he construe her innocent amusement as flirtation? Awkwardness wasn’t anywhere on her agenda for the day. Not that she’d have a chance with a man like him. He was…above and beyond.

“Hell, yes. My personal one too.” He scrubbed his face with knuckles. “You make it hard for me to separate Luke and Dr. Malone. That’s not a problem I usually have, Brielle. I’ve known you less than ten minutes and I can already tell you’re extraordinary. I could tell the day we met in VegVana. There’s something different about you.”

“Yeah, like the way I can’t brave the produce aisle? Or get in a freaking elevator? Or how I sweat myself to sleep in a panic most nights. Or don’t drink coffee in the mornings so I won’t have to endure a visit to the tiny bathroom in my office.”
Or always have to be on top when I have sex so I don’t feel stifled. Or how I ended up driving my boyfriend away with all my rules and regulations for living day in, day out in a state slightly less than full-blown hysteria.

“No, like different
special
. I told you, phobias are common.”

“Is
special
code for a pain in the ass?” She grinned.

He choked on the next swallow of his tea. “No. I reserve the term
complex
for those types.”

“Good to know.”

“Do you want to tell me how you developed an aversion to tight spots?” He left another door open.

And she felt safe enough to walk through it without hesitation.

“My mother died when I was six. My father wasn’t interested in raising a kid or in the settled life without her. After my mom… He abandoned our house. Just moved one day. I found out later he didn’t even try to sell it. Left it to rot—empty, overgrown. I don’t remember a ton about my mom, but I know she would have hated that.

“He stopped at a gas station that afternoon. He tried to leave me too. I should have let him. I screamed and cried until he realized he couldn’t get away with dumping me so easily. It was less effort for him to tote me along and make it look like things were fine to the outside world.

“So he moved us to some tiny place in the city. Somewhere near Fifth and Livingston. Where fewer people noticed any particular kid.”

Luke squeezed her hand lightly. “That’s no neighborhood for a child. Hell, I would lock my doors when I pass through if I didn’t ride a motorcycle.”

“After that, I remember my dad always being there, drinking or doing drugs. I’m pretty sure he worked for criminals. Sketchy guys would come in at all hours. They’d wake me up with their yelling, and fighting. I don’t know how he had cash all the time. It sure as shit didn’t look like he was loaded in our pigsty. But he gambled a lot. Partied a lot. Had sex with random women who latched on to his sometime-wins. There was no way for me to avoid it in that place.”

Brielle took a deep, shaky breath. “I tried to stay out of the way. Keep from being noticed. I put some pillows and blankets in a sloped closet under the stairs to the roof. At first, it made a great hideout. I didn’t mind, except that it didn’t even have a light, so when my dad closed the door…”

She shivered.

Luke allowed her to gather her composure before continuing. He wrapped her fingers around her tea, which she chugged.

“It’s okay if it’s too much.” Kindness radiated from his eyes, the same gorgeous blue as the sky behind him.

“I can do it. This isn’t the hard part.” Brielle took a deep breath. “I liked when my place would get spider webs because I hoped their owners would eat the other bugs.

“After a while, it became a routine. As soon as I came home from school, he would lock me in there to keep me out of the way while he did whatever he did. I stole a flashlight from school and I would search for batteries in the garbage. Sometimes I could score ones that weren’t totally dead. Or those Glow Stick things at Halloween. Those were the best.

“Until later when he wouldn’t let me stay out, even if I asked to sleep in my bed for a night. Then it wasn’t my place to hide anymore. It was my dad’s way of getting rid of me. My refuge turned into a cell.”

“Jesus,” Luke muttered so low she figured she wasn’t supposed to hear. But he seemed to be sitting closer now. “I’m so sorry you had to endure that, Brielle. Can I ask something? It’s not a judgment. I just want to understand.”

“Go ahead.” Glad not to have to carry the conversation, she waited as he phrased his question.

“Did your dad threaten you? Hurt you? To keep you from telling people at school what he was doing?”

“No. I mean, there were times when he drank that he’d take a swipe at me. Not very often.” She slumped in the seat. “I know, it’s stupid. Even Brad accused me of bringing it on myself. But…it felt wrong to leave my father.”

“Because he was your only bond to your mother?” Luke asked.

“Maybe, in some way.” Brielle shrugged. “But also because he was my dad. I didn’t want to abandon him, like he tried to do to me that time. He needed me there. Even if it was too hard for him to bear being around me. Too painful to remember.”

“How do you know that, Brielle?” Luke narrowed his eyes.

“One time I ran away.” Her eyelids fluttered closed as she remembered. “I was nine. We went to the university’s topiary park on a class trip. The designs and the glass conservatory were so beautiful. I just…didn’t want to go. I hid in the bathroom until my class left without me. I made it a little over a week before I was starving and cold. So cold. It was winter, and the guy living between the dinosaur and the train, who said I could share his fire, tried…things. I kicked him in the nuts and ran straight home.”

“It’s okay,” Luke murmured. “You survived. You did whatever you had to in order to make it to the next day. That’s okay, Brielle. That’s what you’re supposed to do. It’s human nature. Instinct.”

“I couldn’t cut it. I had to go back.” A curse threatened to escape. Either that or tears. But it had been a hell of a long time since she’d allowed herself to cry. Neither her dad nor Brad had put up with weeping. Luke wouldn’t appreciate waterworks either.

“What I’m hearing is a sense that you failed.” Luke shocked her with his insight. He cut through all the bullshit on top and dove to the heart of the matter.

“Maybe if I had tried something else…”

“Maybe you wouldn’t have endured.” His tone grew slightly stern. “You may not have lived to fight again. You made the best decisions you could at the time. As a nine-year-old girl, I’d say you did pretty damn well for yourself.”

“Thank you.” She wished she could hug him. Sure that wasn’t appropriate, she wedged her fingers beneath her legs on the sofa. Maybe someday in her life she’d find someone who allowed her to express herself. Brad hadn’t welcomed unsolicited contact either.

“Do you want to tell me what happened when you went back?” he prodded quietly.

Brielle paused.

“You don’t have to. We’ve already shared a lot for our first session. Whatever you’re comfortable with is fine.”