Page 48 of The Vow Thief

Then her voice, muffled but clear enough to sting:“Stupid fucker.”

I stood there, staring at the door, then laughed quietly to myself.“Noted.”

I leaned against the door, letting my voice carry just enough to reach her. I wanted the words to sit with her, to keep her awake.

“Tomorrow, as part of your release requirements, you have to see a shrink. Be ready by nine.”

I smiled at the silence on the other side of the door, then pushed off and walked down the hall.

No need to wait for the explosion. It would come. It always did.

Chapter 23 - Dr. Colleen

Dr. Colleen's POV

I heard the outer door open at exactly nine. Voices carried through the wall. My receptionist’s polite murmur followed, then the familiar buzz that released the lock.

Punctuality. That was a form of control, not courtesy.

When the door to my office suite opened, Lily Thompson stepped in first. She wore oversized sunglasses and a dress that didn’t belong in a morning appointment. A young, good-looking man followed, a steady presence behind her. His posture was military, his expression unreadable. He stepped forward first and introduced himself. Sean Macon, Lily's guard. I made a mental note for her file.

“Miss Thompson,” I said, turning toward her.“I’m Dr. Colleen.”

She didn’t remove the glasses right away.“You’re the court-appointed shrink?”

“I’m a psychiatrist,” I said.“The court sent you to me.”

That earned the faintest smile.“Close enough.”

Her tone was a performance, every syllable testing boundaries. I’ve seen enough of those to know they usually cover exhaustion.

“Come in,” I said, stepping aside.

She looked at Sean before moving.“You’re staying outside in the car?”

“I’ll be in the waiting room,” he replied. His voice was low, steady.

She muttered something that sounded like“babysitter” as she passed me.

Inside, she stood near the window, arms folded. She didn’t look at the chair until silence started pressing on her. When she finally sat, it was with the body language of someone making a point: I choose this.

“I don’t need therapy,” she said.

“Good,” I answered, settling into my chair.“That makes one of us.”

That earned me her first real look, sharp, assessing, curious despite herself.

I placed the thin case file on the table between us and opened it where the paperclip had bent the first page. I did not look up when I began to read.

“Breaking and entering. Destruction of property. Violation of a restraining order. Attempted kidnapping. A few months in the county lockup. A history of stalking allegations that did not result in formal charges, though they generated incident reports.” I turned a page.“Alcohol use. Self-reported episodes of rage followed by dissociation. Does that sound accurate enough to begin?”

Lily rolled her eyes.“I’m bored.”

I looked at her evenly.“Yes. I can see that.”

Her mouth twitched.“Good. At least you’re observant.”

“Tell me about the boredom,” I said.“Does it come before or after you act out?”