Page 87 of Exile

"He doesn't need a raise," Damon says. "A new personality maybe."

"What's the time anyway? I have a session with him this morning," I ask.

Grey pulls out his cell. "You've got about twenty minutes. I told Connor where you are so he can be the one to come collect you. We'll walk with you though."

"You're not staying for my session though," I point out. "How else am I meant to dissect the clusterfuck that is my life if you're too busy taunting the psychiatrist."

"Consider it training," Grey grins. "It's improving his skills."

I glance over at Theo. "Are you still going to speak to Dr. Markel today?"

We decided it was best to suss out the old man again. In conjunction with Dr. Smith's extra workload to help calm down the patients, Markel has been required to provide medicinal support. Though, I'm not entirely sure there's enough sedatives in the world to help regulate our nervous systems at this point.

Theo nods toward Damon. "We'll do it while you're in session. That way we're close by."

Twenty minutes later, the four of us plus Connor head to Dr. Smith's office. Christopher? I'm not entirely sure what to refer to him at this point. We're technically family but he's still my doctor. Wait, aren't doctors supposed tonottreat family members?

It doesn't matter. We're well and truly past the point of ethical practices.

I bid the guys farewell, closing the door as their footsteps head down the corridor toward Dr. Markel's room. Sitting down across from Dr. Smith, the bags under his eyes stand out, business shirt unbuttoned at the top like he's been tugging at the collar.

"You look like shit," I tell him politely.

"I feel like shit," he replies without missing a beat. "I slept in my office last night."

"You could have used my room," I shrug. "It was empty."

Dr. Smith smiles. "I figured as much. But I'm not going to invade your privacy. Also, I don't have the time to deal with Grey when he inevitably comes for my throat."

I tap the side of my neck. "I see what you did there."

He relaxes with a laugh. "How areyoudoing though?"

"I feel like I'm walking on eggshells, every second of every day," I answer honestly. "It's torture waiting for something to happen. Everything is outside of our control and people are spiraling."

"Does it make you uneasy?"

"Yeah."

It's full of confidence, no hesitation. There's no point sugar coating it—it's not a donut.

Clearing my throat, I elaborate. "It reminds me of home. Not the good home, but the life I lived before. I wish I could take their pain away."

"And what about your pain?" he questions sharply.

"I have three guys who love me for that. They make me feel so alive that I forget about the pain most of the time."

Dr. Smith's eyebrows furrow together in thought. "That's a really amazing observation to make. You sound like you've accepted the idea of love."

"Because it's not just an idea," I mutter. "They actually love me. How could I deny that?"

"But do you feel worthy of it?"

"Yes," I answer straight away. "I do."

He leans back in his chair, cupping his hands together. A smile crosses his face, confusing me.

"What?" I press.