Page 83 of Ghost

“The girls’ are on the other side,” she continued. “There’s no women’s team practicing today, so no one will care if you use them.”

“Okay, thank you,” I said, beginning to rush off. However, I doubted she heard over the fight that had exploded on the field. And within moments, I was out of sight—alone under the shadow of the trees.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Julian

Suppression

Normally I took my half-hour break to catch up on much-needed sleep. But this was more important.

A thousand thoughts swirled through my mind. And with them, a few hundred excuses for each. All I wished was that everything was a huge misunderstanding.

Even though I knew within my heart it wasn’t.

My hand clenched around the small orange bottle. Damen had given it to me to look after, along with what remained of Bianca’s medication. All morning it had haunted me. I’d studied it more times than I could count. And even now I resisted the urge to do it again.

If only to make sure I hadn’t read incorrectly.

But I knew I hadn’t. Because the words were already ingrained in my mind.

Dr. T. Reed

“Mother.” I didn’t knock, storming into the room without announcement. I was furious and still somewhat numb. And the door slammed open harder than I intended. The loud sound broke through the chaos ringing in my ears.

My mother jerked upright at my arrival, sitting straight in her seat. Even despite my anger, guilt touched me at the frightened look in her expression. It rarely happened these days, but it was a reaction that displays of anger could still pull from her.

However, she had been working through it. Evidenced by the way her body relaxed as she realized it was only me.

“Sorry,” I apologized. No matter how upset I was, I didn’t mean to scare her. “I need to talk to you.” Crossing the room, I took a seat in the chair opposite hers. Her desk separated us, and I barely glimpsed that she was analyzing a patient's chart before she closed the folder.

She crossed her arms over the manila folder and leaned forward. “Yes, Julian?” Her voice was calm, but it was obvious she was worried about something.

It might even be this. She had to have put some of the pieces together.

Finn’s friend. Finn never had any friends. He was notorious about that. So the one that he did have, of course she’d recall. Especially if she was working with him.

“This ishermedicine, could you explain?” I placed the bottle in front of her—name forward—before leaning back into my seat.

Her expression gave nothing away. And other than the downward flicker of her eyes, she didn’t even appear to notice. “What are you asking, Julian? That is an antipsychotic. I cannot tell you more than that. Patient/doctor confidentiality is—”

“Don’t hide behind that.” I was curious that she’d try to play this way. “This isnotSulpiride, and you know it. We both know what this medication is used for.”

“Julian—”

“Where do you practice that you still usehisname? And this was recently prescribed. Youknowher! How could you not have said something?” I didn’t know this woman. “Besides, you said that you left psychiatry years ago, you said that you couldn’t stand it.”

As I spoke, the mask dropped from her expression. Before, finally, she no longer looked at me with unconcerned indifference. Instead, she seemed guilty.

“Julian,” she broke in, her voice pleading. “I do make exceptions. For personal favors. You don’t understand.”

So, she did know something.

“Then explain it to me. How in the world did you get involved with…” I wasn’t sure how to put everything into words, so I gestured toward the bottle. “All of this? Who are you doing a favor for?”

“You can’t get involved with Bianca Brosnan, Julian.” She twisted her hands nervously. “Please, I can’t tell you more than that.”

I waved my hand, used to this speech. “I know. I’m not getting involved—”