Page 38 of White Raven (Nevermore Duet #2)

“…Yeah…I’ll go talk to the bastard,” Wren smiled, pulling back. “Thank you, bitch. And I mean that with every fiber of my being. The curse word…not the gratitude.”

“You’re such an idiot. Get your ass down the road. Tell me everything.”

“Bye,” she scoffed, smiling as she left and clunked down the stairs.

“This is where you live?” Dr. Ambrose asked, parking in front of Brent’s building. He unbuckled his seat belt and flexed his aching fingers over his lap.

“Yep. For now.”

“For now? You’re not gonna go stay back at that mansion, are you?” She unbuckled her own seatbelt and reached to grab her purse. Brent eyed her cautiously.

“Hell no…what are you doing?”

Dr. Ambrose paused, sitting her bag in her lap and dropping her mouth a little.

“I was gonna walk you in. I thought that was obvious. We’ve gotta talk about where to go from here, Brent.

They called me for a reason. We need to discuss setting you up with a therapist. Maybe getting you on some medication. ”

“You’re not the therapist, though. Can’t you just schedule something over the phone?”

“You’re right, I’m not. But I’m your referring doctor. And I have a strong feeling that if I leave you by yourself and schedule it, that appointment will be missed and forgotten about, and I’d rather not have another call to come to a police station to try and talk sense into you, then.”

Brent sighed, shaking his head as he opened the car door and slid out. “Come on.”

She followed close behind him, and checked her phone the entire elevator ride, only putting it down when they stepped up to his apartment door.

When he let her in, she gawked at the kitchen…

and then the view of Boston outside the floor-length windows in the living room.

“This is amazing. And this is only a temporary residence?”

“No, this is mine. I’m selling it soon. I already have somebody interested.” Dr. Ambrose looked over her shoulder as he headed towards the fridge, pulling out two bottles of water. “I don’t have much other than beer or water. Sorry.”

“Beer sounds good,” she chirped, making herself at home and peeling off her jacket and scarf. She lost her glasses, too. Brent immediately felt a nervous flutter in the pit of his stomach and replaced the water bottles with a couple of beers.

“Isn’t this a little unprofessional, doc?” he asked, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he started for the living room where she had sat herself down on the couch.

“Well, I’m not at work. And you can call me Melissa when I’m off the clock.

This seems like it’ll be an uncomfortable conversation to start off with.

Might as well cut the tension with a beer or two.

” Her shrug was more confident than he’d ever seen her.

Like being in this apartment made her a totally different person altogether.

Her timid personality was wholly gone. He sat down a couple of feet away from her and handed her the beer, popping his own cap off and taking a heavy swallow.

“It doesn’t have to be uncomfortable. I fucked up today. I’m man enough to admit I was wrong about not needing the help, but I can’t say I’m completely open to the idea of spilling my guts to a complete stranger.”

“How about a friend, then?” she asked, sipping her beer and scooting a little closer. He politely inched himself away, turning his head and taking another swig.

“I get the feeling you didn’t come up here to talk about my mental health, doc.”

She moved closer. “ Melissa …and I have every intention of talking about your mental health. As well as ways you can let some of that steam out of the pot, Brent.” His eyes followed the bottle all the way to her lips, down her slender neck as she swallowed, and then to her soft brown eyes.

Temptation was a cunning little seductress that came in all kinds of forms. Sarah’s affirmation when they were sitting outside the hospital bounced around in his mind.

She probably just wants a foot in the door to the vault.

Brent cleared his throat, turning the bottle up again.

“This might sound arrogant, but I’m kind of accustomed to women throwing themselves on my radar…

for obvious reasons. If this is about my inheritance or my constant lack of relief from the spotlight, then…

the line starts on the left, Dr. Ambrose. ”

“I can’t believe you’d assume that.” Her tone sounded completely humiliated. She sat her beer down forcefully on the coffee table and turned to reach for her coat. Brent tugged on her arm.

“I’m sorry—look, I…I’m not trying to come off as an asshole, okay? Ever since I met you, you’ve been shy. Quiet. You’ve seemed like you really cared about the work you do and made it a point not to make me feel like just a number, and I appreciate that. I really do.”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him. “Then why the hell would you just immediately throw me in that category? I’m not a number either, Mr. Stratford .”

“You’re right,” Brent agreed. She eased back down and stared at him.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you.

It’s just the way it’s always been. Now that this shit happened with my dad, I—it’s just what I expect, you know?

And this? ” he waved a hand between them, “this…is likely not a good idea. I’m messed up, okay? ”

“Am I not your type?”

His face jerked in her direction, and he lowered his brows. “Why would you think that?”

“Your ex. That girl at the hospital that came to pick you up. You’d rather have someone like her? Do you still have feelings for her?”

“How did you know she was my ex?”

Dr. Ambrose grabbed her beer and settled a little closer to him on the couch…her knee grazing his. “Besides the tabloids, and the news? She told me at the hospital that you used to date. I’ll admit, I was a little surprised. The two of you seem so…different.”

“We’re not that much different. And Sarah’s a good person. If you think that surprised you, then it might also surprise you to know that the only reason that didn’t work out was because I was the bad guy.”

“I don’t believe that. Bad breakups always end with somebody pointing a finger at the other. Somebody has to be the bad guy, right?”

“Maybe…but this time it was the truth. I hurt her. Probably worse than anyone could ever hurt another person. I regret that every day of my life.” He sighed, and chugged the rest of his beer, leaning forward to sit it on the table.

“You still love her?” she asked, turning her body towards him.

“I’ll always love her. But I’m not in love with her anymore. It’s very complicated.”

There was an awkward silence between them, like she was afraid to take that conversation further. He was grateful. This was that part he dreaded. Talking about it with someone he didn’t know. It wasn’t gonna be any easier with a therapist, and he knew it. Dr. Ambrose moved closer.

“Tell me what made you snap today,” she said, thankfully changing the subject. Brent stared down at his knuckles.

“My client was a murderer. A thug. They had an upper hand in court, and I was screwing it up. I’m a little rusty on criminal cases, and—I dunno, I just…

I was struggling. He was pissed. Trying to get a rise outta me and said something that just set me off.

I couldn’t control myself. It’s not the first time this happened.

I hit a guy at a bar before I got shot. I think this has all been building for a while. ”

“What did he say to you?” Brent ground his teeth, and his chest felt tight. Air seemed to come in shorter supply the more he thought of it. She placed a hand on his knee. “You don’t have to—”

“He made a comment about my father popping a cap in my ass. I didn’t let him finish that statement.”

She was quiet for a moment, her hand squeezing on his knee. What came next should have been a no-brainer…but his mind was just…cloudy. His heart was squashed. “Could I see it? Your progress?”

“Why?”

“Because out of all the surgeries I’ve done. The lives I’ve saved. The answers I’ve found to problems…I still haven’t figured out how in the hell that wound healed so quickly. You will go down in history as the one patient that’s completely stumped me. I’m curious to see how it looks now.”

A small part of him wished he could get that off of his chest. But he didn’t know her.

Didn’t know if he could trust her with that information.

And every other time he’d slipped where Sarah was concerned was a complete and utter disaster.

Deciding against trying to explain it, Brent started unbuttoning his shirt.

This is a terrible idea…

Her eyes went wide when he opened it up and tugged the tail out of his waistline, and she sat her beer down.

“Oh, my God.” She leaned over his waist, barely touching the angry scar that should have still been a draining wound.

“This is…this is unbelievable. How in the world?” Her head raised up and they practically shared breath with how close their faces were.

Brent’s chest sputtered, and he couldn’t help but eye her mouth, both of them breathing quicker, and probably having the same trouble with their racing thoughts.

She moved first. Before he had time to argue that this was the worst thing they could possibly be doing, her mouth was on his.

It had been too long since the last time he’d felt this.

Even longer since he’d felt anything else, and anybody would have had the same reaction in this state of mind…

wouldn’t they? He kissed her back, allowing her to lean him against the back of the couch.

When she climbed into his lap, all he could think about was the last time he’d felt like this.

How bad he’d been wanting it ever since…

with someone else. Someone that wasn’t the woman that started grinding herself against him. He pulled back, breaking their kiss.

“Doc— Melissa …I—we can’t do this.”