Page 43 of Reaper

Lark: How do you always know when I need you and say exactly what I need to hear?

I can almost see his smile and hear him chuckling as the little dots pop up, letting me know he’s typing something.

Reaper: Can’t tell you all my secrets

Reaper: It will all work out in the end, Darlin’. If you decide not to do another session with Ashcroft, then you can ask Remington for another recommendation. You can do this, Darlin’.

Taking a deep breath, I exhale slowly. He’s right. I can do this.

Lark: Thank you. Heading in now.

I hesitate, but then I type up a message and lock my phone before getting out of my car and heading into the office.

The receptionist looks up and smiles when I come in.

“Lark Thompson.”

She looks down at her computer and after typing a few things, smiles again as she looks back up at me.

“Have a seat, and I’ll let Dr. Ashcroft know that you’re here.”

“Thank you.”

Suddenly feeling cold, I pick a seat that’s by the window so that I can sit in the sun. I pick up a magazine and flip through the pages while I wait.

A few minutes later, a door opens and I look up as a woman steps out with a man right behind her.

Dr. Ashcroft.

For the most part, Dr. Ashcroft is an okay-looking man. Short brown hair, medium build, and he’s maybe a little taller than me. However, it’s his eyes that bother me. Beady, dark brown eyes that put me on edge. It’s similar to how I feel when I’m around Zac. The way that they look or stare at you is unnerving. Like they can see every little crevice and are just waiting for you to give them a nugget of information so they can exploit it, which is not the best quality for a therapist. Then there’s the possessive edge to how he looks at me but it’s not like the possessiveness that Reaper looks at me with. Reaper’s is a protective possessiveness. Dr. Ashcroft’s is a more dangerous possessiveness. And while I know that I’m in a public building, it does little to quell the wariness of being alone with him behind a closed door.

My gaze snaps to the door I came in through, and I’m seriously debating saying fuck it and asking Alice for a different therapist.

“See you next week, Martha,” Dr. Ashcroft says and out of the corner of my eye, I see him turn and his beady little gaze locks on me. He smiles and I try to repress the shiver that runs over me, however judging by the frown that’s now marring his face, I must not have hid my reaction well enough.

“Lark, it’s good to see you again. Shall we?” he asks as he gestures to the hallway behind him.

Once again I hesitate, but then the few other patients in the office look over at me. My face heats at their questioning looks. Yup, stare at the weirdo that is freaking out too much to get off her seat and move.

My gaze once again snaps to the main exit, but then I jump when Dr. Ashcroft steps up beside me, and I flinch when he puts his hand on my shoulder. He quickly retracts his hand and gives me an apologetic smile.

“It’s okay to be nervous about meeting someone new after you’ve been working with another therapist. How about we chat and if things don’t work out, I can give you some other names you can contact?”

Chewing on my lip, I finally nod. At least I can get more information from him after this.

Standing, I cross the room and he quickens his pace so that he can open the door for me. I give him a polite, small smile and step into the hallway.

“This way, my office is right around the corner,” he tells me as he steps ahead of me and I follow behind him to his office a bit further down the hallway from Dr. Remington’s.

Stepping inside, I immediately shiver. It’s cold in here and the dark, heavy furniture isn’t helping me relax any further. He has two brown, leather couches that face each other with a small coffee table in between them. To my right, bookshelves line the wall, but I’m too wound up to focus on any of the titles. To the side of the couches is his desk, a monstrous dark oak thingthat seems like it should belong in a stuck-up, snooty professor’s office. The curtains framing the window behind his desk are a dark grey, but at least they are open and letting in the sunlight, otherwise I’d probably be bolting out of here.

“Can I offer you some water?” Dr. Ashcroft asks me.

I shake my head before pulling a bottle of water out of the side pouch of my purse. “I always carry water with me now.”

He nods and grabs a pad of paper off his desk and gestures to the couches. “How about you take a seat and we can get started?”

He takes the seat closest to the door and my throat tightens as my gaze bounces between the couch and the door.