Page 34

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Monday comes. So do my two eval appointments. I’m tired. Deeply tired from all the emotional rollercoaster riding I did over the weekend.

For the moment things are copacetic with Lincoln, hanging out over food definitely gave the three of us some time to get to know each other.

It also opened some new bonds for the father and son, and inspired them to spend some quality time together, which is why Brock and I haven’t been alone since before the fire.

In the meantime, I’ve just been waiting on the other shoe to drop about someone in the department finding out about our affair. So, as one might expect, I’m a bit of a wreck.

I’m trying not to chew my fingernails, and anything else I can get my hands on in the waiting room at the Murray Mental Health Clinic. “Come this way, Ms. Ellis.” A psychologist with bushy hair and caterpillar eyebrows leads me toward his office. I presume he’s Edward Murray as the nameplate by the entrance said, even though he doesn’t bother with an introduction.

The medical appointment was easy. I hope this one will be too. Only, the ominous feeling in my stomach says otherwise.

I take a seat in one of the comfortable chairs that are artfully arranged by the window.

The atmosphere has been engineered for calm, from the color of the paint, to the happy little blooming plant, to the tinkling of the water in the decorative fountain in the corner.

“Would you like some water?”

Balling my hands into fists in my lap so I don’t fidget, I say. “No, sir. I’m fine, thank you.”

He doesn’t waste any time. “Chief Mitchell requested an evaluation of your mental health because he witnessed a panic attack.”

I hold my tongue and don’t say, one he caused.

“Do you have a comment on that?”

“It was an unusual circumstance, an outlier.”

Looking up from his notes, he says, “So, you’ve never had a panic attack before.”

Oh, brother. I draw in a breath. I know this guy will see a lie coming from a mile away. “Actually, I had one other.”

“Please tell me about what led up to these attacks.”

Crap. I didn’t think about this .

Um… Um. My cogs spin as I try to figure out how to say something that won’t totally expose the fact that Brock’s kiss is what sent me into a full melt down.

“Ms. Ellis, do you have something to say?”

“I do.” I pause, clear my throat. “I had an interaction with Chief Mitchell that caused an upheaval to my emotional balance. It won’t happen again.”

The man flips open my file, closes it, and looks at me over his glasses. “Care to explain?”

“No, I don’t.”

“It will be hard for me to give you the clearance you need without you explaining the circumstances.”

For several minutes, we stare at each other. His eyebrows don’t move when he blinks. For a few seconds, I ponder if anyone’s eyebrows move when they blink. Something I’ll have to pay more attention to.

Finally, he takes his glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose. When he slides them back on, he says, “You do know this conversation is completely confidential. I will not be revealing any details of your comments to the chief. I will only provide a green light, or red light for your return to full, active service with the fire department.”

My nerve endings are so frayed, I’m sure the ragged ends are showing. I chew my lip.

He folds his hands and watches me with grandfatherly patience. Not that I’ve had a grandfather, but that’s how I imagined they’d be.

In a practiced voice, he coaches me. “Why don’t you tell me about your childhood.”

That shuts me down, slamming a cold facade over things I try to protect. Cooly, I reply, “My childhood encompasses a wide range of time and events. What specifically would you like to hear?”

“About your relationship with your father to start.”

So much for that facade. It was paper thin. I’m sure my eyes give away my distress. “He… he was difficult.”

“And did you feel threatened by him or another male in a position of power?”

Pressure’s building behind my sternum with every question. My seams feel like they could let go any second. Thinking about my father and the events that happened after he sent me to private school are one sure way to put myself into an emotional boxing match. One that I never win.

I clear my throat, look at my hands. “There have been instances when I felt threatened.”

When I look up at him, his eyes sharpen. “Did the chief make you feel threatened?”

“No!” I half-yell.

Tilting his head, he studies me. “Interesting. Are you sure?”

Feeling like a bug under a microscope, I insist, “I’m completely sure.”

Oh crap. Here come the waterworks.

He passes me a tissue so I can catch the tears that have started to breach my eyelashes. “Take a few deep breaths, my dear.”

I sound like an asthmatic pig.

Or a rusty hand saw trying to chew on wood.

I want to run. He watches with compassion in his eyes.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened when you were young? I think it will help to get it off of your chest.”

When I break down and sob, I fold over my knees, praying I can hide the ugliness that’s locked inside of me. But he doesn’t let me escape. He lays a reassuring hand on my shoulder .

Back on the emotional rollercoaster, I go.

In a kind doctor voice, he says, “That’s good, Avery. Let it out. I’m here to help you. I’ll do my best to help you get that clearance.”

Brock’s standing in the hallway of the fire station when I get back. It’s an odd place for him to be, and it makes me wonder if he’s waiting for me.

He’s studying me, which makes me feel very exposed. When I left Dr. Murray’s office, I thought I was back on stable ground. But now I’m sure that there’s an earthquake under my feet.

I stop a few feet in front of Brock. “What’s up?”

His dark eyes flash, the lines around them tell me exactly how stressed he’s been. I’m sure I look the same. “The fire at the restaurant was arson.”

“Do you think it’s connected?”

He nods. “Yes. I want to take you to the scene now, if you’re up for it. I know you’ve been at your appointments.”

My heart pounds as I wait for him to say more. Did Murray give me the clearance? He said he would, but how long does that take?

When Brock just stands there looking at me like he’s edgy as a wild animal, I say, “Sure, let me change.”

He’s waiting when I return. His dark eyes skate over me from head to toe. I’m in navy blue cargo pants, boots, and a LCFD T-shirt. Nothing about it is sexy, but there’s definitely heat in his eyes.

Instantly, my body responds. Turns hot in all the places he touched me even though it feels like an eon since Brock’s hands were on me .

We walk in vibrating silence to his county fire department pickup truck. He opens the door for me and his eyes hold mine as I climb in.

I’m breathless already by the time he closes the door. Being close to Brock is dangerous for my circuitry.

He’s bristling with sexual energy and something else as he leaves the fire station and drives through town. I nearly gnaw a hole in my jaw.

I’ve almost texted him a dozen times in the last few days, but tried not to impose my dread on the situation. Finally, I can’t stand it anymore. “Has anyone mentioned—us?”

“No. No one’s said a thing.”

“I’m sure your men know something’s up. Do you think they will support you, or do you think someone will say something to an official?”

I haven’t brought up my conversation with Reeves about Frank. It’s so awkward, I’m not even sure what I’d say.

This whole thing makes me feel like a criminal. I feel so corrupt for doing something that is clearly a violation of county policy.

That’s just who I am. I hate breaking the law. It’s why I drive two miles under the limit. Get my car inspected weeks before it expires, and pay my taxes before they are due. I never even let a parking meter run out.

All of which I’m pretty sure Brock would think is funny.

Differences like this are what make relationships hard. I’m running my brain on the spin cycle and he looks like he’s taking a Sunday drive on the coast highway.

He’s got one hand draped over the wheel, one casually resting on his thigh. In this light, he doesn’t look as tired. Damn, he actually looks good. Even though our situation is jacked, I can’t stop looking at him and remembering how it felt to be the object of his affection.

It’s nearly impossible for me to drag my eyes away from those sexy fingers that made me feel so good until he says, “I’m not sure about what they’ll do, but I know how to head things off at the pass.”

“Okay, I know what that statement means, but I can’t figure out how it would apply to this situation.”

“I’m going to see the mayor this afternoon.”

My mouth drops open so fast it makes a very inelegant sound.

He glances at me. “I’m not going to let some rumor get there first.”

I’m literally choking on the rocks that suddenly found their way into my throat. “But what… what will you say?”

“I’ll tell them the truth.”

That’s when I remember exactly what Brock is. A man that’s faced more than one bomb in his lifetime.