Healing Touch: Play Doctor, Book 2 (5 page)

“Is our time up soon?” She couldn’t believe the reading on the clock above his desk.

“I was going to break for lunch. You could join me if you’d like to continue another hour.” He smiled, encouraging her.

“How about the abridged version? I’d like you to know.” She bit the inside of her cheek.

Luke nodded. “I’m listening.”

“I climbed up to our apartment that night, using the fire escape for the first time. I wanted to see what was going on. Had he even noticed I was gone? It was late. I should have already been in my closet. When I got to the top, there was only one light on. No people. No chaos. My dad sat in the room with empty bottles, broken, everywhere. He had a gun in his mouth and his finger was on the trigger.”

“Brielle,” Luke whispered.

This time she reached for his hand and he linked their fingers.

Why couldn’t it have been so simple with her father? “I shoved open the window. The locks had never worked right, nothing to steal anyway. I ran inside and yanked the gun from his hand. It was so heavy. He looked at me and passed out as if he’d seen a ghost. He didn’t wake up for almost a full day after that. I was afraid he would die.”

Neither of them said what she was thinking… She would have been better off if he had.

“From then on he was careful to lock me in the closet right away. Every night. Usually before I’d eaten dinner. And even when I used the bathroom or took a shower, he would make one of his friends watch me. Always.” She shuddered.

“You’re so strong, Brielle,” Luke murmured to her. “To have gotten through it all, mostly intact. Trust me, you’re doing great. Amazing. I see patients all the time who have been challenged by far less than you, yet haven’t coped as effectively. I’m impressed with your resilience. Your bravery. Do you understand how tough you are?”

Seldom in her life had someone praised her. The compliments went to her head, making her bold and confident. Enough to spit out the rest of her story. The important parts anyway.

“When I was seventeen, he pissed someone off. Bad. I was locked in my closet for the night. I heard arguing start. This time was way worse than others. There were guns in our apartment a lot of the time. They didn’t really frighten me. I never realized how loud it would be…”

“Your dad killed someone while you were in the closet?” Luke’s blend of empathy and quiet anger—not
at
her, but
for
her—helped her divulge the truth.

“No.” She swallowed hard. “Someone murdered him. Blood and…other gross gray stuff floating in it…ran under the door to my closet. I stayed quiet so they wouldn’t do the same to me. But I was stuck. In there. With the smell. And the bugs. No food, or water, or bathroom. Or light. For days. I think it was the stench that eventually drew enough complaints, even in that hellhole, to bring the landlord’s son to investigate. Brad. He found me. Let me out of my closet. I’m not sure which of us was more surprised. Or scared.”

“This was your boyfriend?” Luke tilted his head.

“Yes.” She winced. “For seven years. He took me in. I owed him everything. I tried not to bother him with my drama.”

“Is that what he called your phobia?” Luke practically growled.

Brielle scooted an inch or so away. Seeing, for the first time, some danger in the dazzling man she’d come to trust in an instant. Just like Brad. Damn her. When would she learn?

“I’m sorry.” He calmed immediately. “I’m not angry with you. But I’m standing behind what I said before. That guy did not deserve you. Not at all.”

“He kept me.”

“Like you were some stray animal? A dog? His pet?” A glint of something icy froze his blue eyes.

“It didn’t seem that way to me at first.” She hung her head.

“Nothing in your life was normal. You couldn’t understand how twisted his treatment was, Brielle.” Luke lifted her chin. “Don’t confuse opportunistic with altruistic, please. He used you.”

“Until the sex and my cooking and cleaning weren’t enough to offset the
drama
anymore.” She gritted her teeth. No way could she spill the rest. Not yet. Not even to Luke, no matter how he called to her on a basic level.

“Is that what he told you?” A flush crept up Luke’s cheeks. Did he get this upset by his other clients’ revelations?

“Yes.” She sighed before skirting the truth. “And he didn’t even wait for me to finish moving out before bringing some new woman into the place I thought was our home. I left everything. Walked away. At first I took odd jobs to pay for food. And I found a shelter. They helped me get on my feet. But I wasn’t ready to talk. So I started over.”

“That sounds like a smart thing to do,” Luke reassured her. “Everything you’ve built now is fresh. Completely yours. A great foundation for your future. I’m sure it’s been harder than I can imagine—”

She choked back a sob.

“But you’re doing it. You’re still surviving. You have work, a place of your own and…you’re here.”

“Begging for help,” she whispered. “I want to be normal.”

“Remember, that means messed up in some way.” Luke sighed. He scrubbed his hands through his hair. “I think that’s a good place to stop for today.”

Disappointment rushed through Brielle.

“At least with this formal session.” He stood, rubbing his flat abdomen. “Would you like to join me for that lunch now?”

Suddenly she craved nothing more than that. Her stomach growled. “Yes.”

Luke Malone held out his hand.

And she grasped it like the lifeline it was.

Chapter Four

Luke knew down to his marrow that if Brielle got even a glimpse of the pure destruction in his thoughts, he’d lose her. She’d run and never look back. He wouldn’t blame her either after all she’d told him. Schooling his features, he offered her his hand and silently pleaded for her to accept his support.

When her long, slender fingers landed on top of his palm, he did a mental jig. He closed his hand around hers for a brief squeeze. Not enough to trap her. “Come on, I know a great place around the corner. It’s one of my favorites. Do you like sandwiches?”

“Um, yes.” A long pause put him on alert.

“What is it?” He slowed down, trying not to rush her into anything. “You can change your mind at any time.”

“Is it expensive?”

Luke knew better than to offer to pay. She had to have her independence. God knew, she’d earned some. He considered the menu, a little ashamed that he didn’t even weigh things like that in his choices these days. “You tell me. You can get a half sandwich and a bowl of soup or a salad for under five dollars. The portions are big enough that my best friend’s wife usually takes some home with her for a second meal too.”

“I can swing that.” Brielle beamed.

“Great.” They meandered toward the front door of his office. “If you have to use the restroom, the one on this floor has five stalls, a big sitting room attached and a sky light. The sandwich shop’s is far less spacious.”

“Thank you.” The full blast of a smile from Brielle nearly knocked him over. She was naturally beautiful. Not because of caked-on makeup or manmade touch-ups. Some of the women he’d attributed the title to in the past had relied on gimmicks to perfect their presentation. None of that was necessary for Brielle.

In the weeks after their run-in at VegVana, he’d wondered if he’d imagined her stunning loveliness. He hadn’t. Her chestnut hair fell in waves to her waist. The fullness of her lips had had him longing to kiss their plump softness from the moment she’d burst from the stairwell. Out of nowhere, his absent sex drive had roared to life. At the most inopportune time possible.

It’d been a month or so since he’d slunk out of Kurt and Becca’s bedroom. The longest period of abstinence he’d imposed since he was sixteen. No wonder he was having trouble controlling himself when faced with a gorgeous woman. One he desperately hoped he could assist. Even if it meant stifling his own reactions to her.

As he waited for her in the hallway, he recited all the reasons why instant attraction didn’t matter in this case. Chemistry couldn’t justify violating the patient-doctor relationship, no matter how badly he wished it could. She seemed to trust him and she honestly needed help. He wouldn’t risk damaging her chances for recovery.

Luke had treated plenty of vulnerable, gorgeous women in his career. None of them had affected him like Brielle did. The connection burning between them didn’t come along every day. Maybe he could use it to facilitate her healing.

When she emerged, she hovered by the door to the stairs.

“Brielle, do you know how phobias can be treated?” He didn’t join her just yet.

“Isn’t that your job?”

He barked out a laugh. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

“No, really, I don’t.” She flushed.

“Why would you? You’re not a psychologist.” He hoped she didn’t balk now. “One way to treat phobias is through systematic desensitization, which means encouraging a patient to live through their fears. They have to realize the terror is irrational and overcome it a little at a time in a very controlled environment. The trigger stops being frightening when you face your phobia and grind it into dust.”

“You mean I have to get locked up.” She paled. Her eyes grew wide and her breathing turned erratic. One hand steadied her against the wall, but she wobbled anyway.

Holy shit.
She was going to pass out.

Luke lunged for her, wrapping her in his arms and guiding her to the floor. Dazed, she blinked up at him, questions dancing in her rich brown eyes. “Put your head between your knees. Breathe slow and deep. With me.”

They dragged in a lungful of air together. Then released it. Again and again.

“Better now?” Luke drew circles on her back, surprised by how much of her he could span with one hand. She hadn’t seemed so little when she’d held under the pressure of relating her childhood to him. Part of that could be attributed to her boxy, ill-fitting clothes.

“Yes. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have sprung the treatment plan on you like that.” He tucked a wisp of her hair behind her ear so he could monitor her expression. “We’ll go slow. Really slow. Only taking another step when you’re ready.”

“How is that going to work in five—no, four—more sessions?” She dropped her forehead onto her knee and wound her arms around her shins.

“It’s not.”

She wilted beneath his gaze.

“We’re going to have to work longer than that on something so ingrained in your psyche.” He wanted to rub away her frown with the pad of his thumb, but he held himself in check. Barely. “I hope you weren’t expecting a silver bullet. This is going to be hard. But we’ll get there together and the effort will be worth it in the end.”

“I can’t afford therapy.” She shrugged. “You’ll have to teach me as much as possible, then leave the rest to me.”

He didn’t doubt she would bust her ass to vanquish her demons. But some things couldn’t be done solo. She needed assistance. Support. Or she risked lapsing into a state worse than her current coping permitted.

“Forget about the insurance thing. I’m committed to helping you.” He patted her bare knee, positive she had no idea how much of those magnificent legs she flashed at him with her skirt sliding up her thighs. “Whatever it takes. We’ll get through this together.”

“I can’t let you do that,” she answered without lifting her head.

“Why not?” He blinked.

“Because you shouldn’t have to work for nothing,” she objected.

“Our practice provides sliding-scale therapy for those in need. We’re committed to preventing costs inhibiting people from getting the help they need.” That was the truth, though he didn’t intend to seek payment for her case. Helping her would be gratifying enough. Something about her meager subsistence had him feeling guilty for his success anyway. It was a small thing. But he could do this. Wanted to do it.

“Really?”

He nodded.

“Okay, then.” She perked up. “I would be grateful for your help.”

“So you tell me. Are you ready to ride the elevator?” He rose, but she didn’t follow his lead.

“I—” She hesitated.

“Okay, that’s answer enough. If you can’t say yes right off, then you’re not prepared. That’s all right. Remember, you’re in control. You decide what’s comfortable, or within your limits to try.”

“It’s just that we’re so high up. The thought of having to stop and wait a bunch of times on the way down, the door closing me in after each person we pick up…” She began to hyperventilate again.

“Shh. Deep breaths, remember?” He smiled when she caught herself before blacking out. “I understand your concerns. They’re valid. I don’t mind walking. If we get to a point where you think you’d like to try the elevator instead, all you have to do is say so. I’ll be with you the whole way, no matter what you decide. Okay?”

“Sure.” She unfolded the human pretzel she’d morphed into, accepting his assistance to climb to her feet.

“So, what do you do for a living?” When she didn’t respond after they’d gone down two flights, he figured she didn’t intend to answer.

“I’m sorry. I’m a little confused.” She turned at the end of the landing and started down another set of stairs.