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~ brIDGET ~

Eventually Gerald cleared me as safe to be alone.

I had to sit through the grilling with Jeremy and the lawyers, but in the end it was to make them understand that I hadn’t lied in any of my prior testimony, or depositions, or anything. It was all true. I just hadn’t told them the part about getting married.

They didn’t like it, but I could tell they were relieved.

And didn’t entirely believe me.

Oh well.

I texted Sam before I even met with them.

ME: G wants to talk to you. Do it. Be honest. Be you. He needs to see that we’re not nuts. He could be helpful with the restraining order thing.

SAM NOTPRIEST: Ironically, I have nothing to hide anymore. So sure.

An hour later, while I was in the middle of getting grilled by Jeremy and the others, he texted again.

SAM NOTPRIEST: Your man Gerald doesn’t waste time. He’s already asked for a conversation. I told the lawyers to set it up as soon as possible .

I took a deep breath then. Please, God. Universe. Higher power. Whatever. Please. He had to see the truth.

But by the time I was driving home, all the ways this could go wrong were swimming in my head.

Which inevitably lead to thoughts of having to see my father.

Which made it hard to breathe.

I tried to talk myself down. It wasn’t going to happen! Sam was a good man, and Gerald would see that!

But what if Gerald refused to admit it? What if I’d made everything worse.

Shit.

I stormed into the house intending to burn the letter, then remembered that I’d given it to Sam.

Then I thought about all the ways my father would use a situation like this for leverage.

Like, that Christmas idea he had—what the actual fuck? He was so clearly a manipulative bastard. I wondered if he’d only written that letter so he’d be able to say that he had.

Gerald wouldn’t think so, which was why I’d never told him about it. Not really.

Gerald met with my dad when things got bad, and he was convinced Dad was old and sick and wanted to talk to me before he died.

He probably did. But the question was, why?

He said he’d been talking to the god guys. Maybe he was scared of dying and wanted to soothe his own conscience? Or maybe it was a tool to manipulate someone else. The parole board? He’s wasn’t eligible for parole… was he?

God, just thinking about him made me nervous.

My father never did anything to be helpful. He always saw anything he did as leverage, or a favor that had to be returned. A scorecard to balance.

I remembered that even from my childhood, the way Dad held fear over other men. And my mother.

Back then I could see it, even if I didn’t understand . I knew that he was clever and scary and made people afraid. For a while I thought that was cool. Because I was a child and didn’t know what it meant when a man was powerful.

Now I do .

And any information I’ve gleaned from Jeremy and the others only affirmed that. The whole reason the FBI came into my life was because they’d uncovered contacts my father had been sending to get close to me.

I knew when I was a child that if my father’s favors weren’t returned, he punished you. I learned early on to be grateful when he gave me something, and to quickly find a way to pay it back.

Making that deal with Gerald was risking having to stand in front of that bastard again. What had I been thinking?

I’d been thinking the risk was worth it to get Sam off.

But I hadn’t been thinking about Gerald not seeing through it. What if I was wrong. What if Gerald was wrong?

What if I had to go see him?

I physically recoiled from the thought.

No. No.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let that monster back into my life. Or Sam’s.

No. Sam needed to convince Gerald. That was the only way. And Gerald… he needed to see.

God, please… please can he see?

~ SAM ~

I’d told my lawyers to leave the room, but they had insisted that it wasn’t wise for me to be talking to anyone attached to the case, even indirectly. They needed to be witnesses to the conversation. They were also secretly recording it. I didn’t care.

When Gerald walked in, I was surprised.

Bridget always described him as so old, I expected some frail, elderly man. Like Richard—someone who still had their marbles, but their body was failing.

Gerald was… not that.

He was trim, but he moved easily. His hair was almost completely gone from over his head, but still clung in a ring around the sides and over his ears. His glasses were modern, and his eyes sharp.

But he looked tired. And very wary .

I stood up and offered my hand. “Gerald?”

He nodded. “You must be Sam… and Cain? ”

I nodded, but my lawyers were introducing themselves as well. Everyone was tense and disapproving. But if Bridget thought this man could help us… I was willing to try.

“My lawyers think they need to be here because they’re worried you’ll be taking information back to the Prosecution without our knowledge. But honestly, now that we’re married, there’s nothing more for me to hide so… what do you want?”

Gerald took a seat across the table from me and we all sat back down. He dropped a notebook on the table and pulled a pen out of his pocket. For a second he sat there frowning at me, the pen pinched between his thumb and forefinger of both hands. But then he cleared his throat and sat back in his chair.

“I want to be completely up front with you, and I hope you’ll do the same.”

I nodded.

“Bridget asked me to speak with you because she believes you’re a good man. I do not. I don’t believe a good man would have taken advantage of her mental and emotional vulnerabilities. Yet, you did. So… I have made an agreement with her to assess you as I would any loved one or family member of one of my patients. And I’m going to endeavor to do that. But you need to know that I don’t trust you. And I’m very perceptive. I’d encourage you to be honest with me.”

“I will be,” I said simply, though I wanted to snap my teeth at the guy. “Thank you for being honest—and I will do the same. I think you push her too hard, you treat her like she’s a child, and you misunderstand a lot of what she’s doing. I know you have insights, and you’ve helped her. She’s told me that herself. But if you want to help her, you won’t keep her away from me. I love her. I’d never hurt her. And I help her.”

He didn’t respond, just rolled his jaw like he was thinking that over.

I sat forward, leaning on the table and locked eyes with him. “She told you about me before I was arrested. She said you said I have a good head on my shoulders.”

“That was before I knew you were the one hunting her. ”

“I was giving her what she needed because I knew I was the only one who’d give it in a way that wouldn’t destroy her. You can ask her.”

“Oh, she’s defending you to the death,” he said dryly. “But I can’t trust her judgment when it comes to measuring men. He track record is… appalling. Plus, she believes every word you say about your intentions. The noble pursuit. The whole thing.”

“Good, because it’s true.”

Gerald’s eyes narrowed. “You want me to believe that you put yourself out on the dark web to help people?”

“Yes,” I said emphatically. “Don’t get me wrong, it didn’t start that way. I used to do it for selfish kicks and thrills. And the power of it. But now…” I leaned closer. “Now, I get behind the curtain and get to reach women that no one else ever sees. The housewife who thinks no one could ever love her. The abuse victim who’s convinced she’ll never be strong. The widow who thinks the world will destroy her without a husband to stand up for her. All of them reach their limit and they can’t talk to “normal” people because they get judged. Then they meet me. And I don’t judge them.”

“Because you’re destructive too. It’s an alcoholic telling an alcoholic that they’re normal.”

God, it was like he’d taken a page from the Book of Pearl Clutchers as Bridget called them.

“No, Gerald. That’s not it. I know what you’re talking about. I used to be that guy. I’m not denying they exist. But I am changed. All that need I had, all that darkness I wanted—God showed me I can use that to help people, instead of hurt. I had to learn to fight my own battles first, then I could help other people fight theirs. I used to take from people. Now I give.

“The women like Bridget who want to be challenged and pursued and hurt, it’s because control has been taken from them. They want to prove to themselves they can make it through. I was the same way—pushing boundaries, seeking thrills—all because I was miserable and angry.

“But now, I have boundaries. I have restraint. Now, I can chase a woman and let her be in a situation where she gets to work out some of her fear—but it’s because she’s safe with me. Because I won’t breach those boundaries. Call it role-play. That’s what it is. She sets the terms. She decides the lines. But within those, I can do whatever I feel comfortable with.”

“Including have sex with countless women, potentially spread venereal disease and—”

“I stopped having sex with them years ago.”

Gerald arched one brow. “I don’t think I can believe that.”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe, it matters what’s true. And what’s true is that I’ve found a way to help women who want to die learn to live again. I feed the part of them that’s trying to self-destruct and use it to show them that they don’t need to die to feel better.”

Gerald’s lips pressed thin. “Please explain to me precisely how you convince a woman not to die by hunting her to the death?”

“Because it’s a process. And they learn to trust me in the middle. They learn that I keep my word. They learn they’re worth listening to. That when they tell me there’s a line, I won’t cross it. And when I tell them I have a line, I won’t cross that either. They learn that I’ll give them what they need, but not what’s bad for them. And eventually they start wanting to be close without the violence—because they feel safe—they start listening, I can talk to them. I can use all the other skills and knowledge and experience I’ve accumulated to help them heal.”

My voice was getting quieter, firmer. I was passionate about this, and eager for people to hear it. But my heart thumped in my chest because I knew how hard it was for people who’d never had these kinds of desires to understand.

“Gerald, there were at least six different women in the two years before her and they’re all still walking around. They all wanted to be taken out. And before we were done, every single one gave me the safe word, then never saw me again.”

“Who are they?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Do you still have contact with them?”

“No. The whole arrangement was that when they wanted to live, I left them alone.”

Gerald gets intense. “Do they know who you are?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

His expression grew skeptical. “So you want me to believe that there are women out there who never met the real you, but wanted to die. You’re saying you influenced them to remain alive… yet never had contact with them after they made that decision?”

“Oh, they met the real me. They just didn’t see my face. But other than that… Yes.”

Gerald scoffed.

I gritted my teeth. “You know, for a psychologist, you’re really fucking judgmental.”

“You’d be surprised. But this isn’t about me. If these women are out there, why aren’t they testifying on your behalf?”

I shrugged. “My lawyers contacted them and they haven’t responded. They were mostly years ago. I have limited information about them–”

“Bullshit.”

I shook my head. “This is what you call an open mind? Why are you here?”

“Because I care about Bridget and she wants me to help you. Sadly, I don’t think I can.”

“Then why the fuck are you here?”

“Because I had high hopes that she’d finally found a good one. And I’m reminding myself that hope is a fart in the wind.”

“Get out.” Both my lawyers shot their feet, but Gerald put his hands up in surrender.

“I will in a minute, I give you my word. But… first tell me: Do you know her dad?”

“Don’t answer that,” my lawyer said quickly. I rolled my jaw, uncertain whether to answer him or not.

Gerald’s face grew grim. “I’ve met him. Spoken with him twice. At the same prison where you served time.”

I nodded. “I met him. More than once. I could say hi. But we were never friends.”

Gerald stared.

I stared back. “I’m telling you the truth. I don’t care if you believe me or not.”

He leaned forward. “You know she wants me to recommend that you two be able to see each other.”

“You should.”

“Why?”

“So I can help her get through this. If you haven’t noticed, she’s coming apart at the seams. You all stand around her, shouting and swearing and telling her what to do, meanwhile she’s in fucking pieces, and no one seems to notice.”

“Oh, I notice. I assure you.”

“Then fucking wake up! I’m good for her. When you didn’t have your head stuck up your ass, you saw it. Now she’s trusting you to see it again—she’s beating herself up over this and you’re going to make it worse if you decide to be blind.”

“She’s only scared because she thinks she put you in danger.”

“She did.”

“That must piss you off?” he said, brows up.

“She didn’t know it was me.”

Then the asshole smiled. “I forgot. She was out there running around with another guy at the same time you two were falling in love—apparently.”

Fuck. “It’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

“If there’s one thing in this world I understand, it’s complex relationships and how they affect the psyche.”

“Really?” I huffed.

“Really.”

“Okay, then, Doctor. You tell me how a good guy helps her in this. You tell me what I do that won’t hurt her, will only help.”

“If you were actually a good guy?”

“Yeah.”

“A really good husband does what she needs, even if it’s hard on him . A man with actual integrity fights for his innocence, but doesn’t get her in trouble to do it. A really good guy cares more about what happens to her, than to himself.”

“I agree, Doctor. So keep your eyes open. You might learn something.”

Gerald didn’t take his eyes off me, but he must have forgotten he was talking to a convicted felon who’d done hard time. Did he think I would back down from a staring competition?

Eventually, though, my lawyer cleared his throat, and Gerald made his excuses and left.

I was pissed. She’d had high hopes that Gerald would see through the bullshit to the truth. She’d made me hopeful. Looked like he was just one more pearl clutcher—except, with a doctorate .

“Sam, you can’t talk to people like that. It all sounds crazy. We get it, but you have to be more careful with your words.”

I sighed. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“That’s the problem, man. Even if it’s real, even if it’s good, sometimes it still needs to stay in the dark.”

But that was what I’d been saying. Couldn’t they see that?