Page 56 of Never Lie
“I feel strong now. I didn’t always. Thank you for that.”
“Yes. You’re welcome.”
“And I’m glad you could include it in your new book. I’m honored. I hope my story inspires other people.”
“Yes…”
“After all this time, I’m finally able to move on. I’m dating again. I’m sleeping well. I do still feel a touch of guilt that I get to continue living my life while the others can’t. Is that normal? Will it ever go away?”
“Mmm.”
“Dr. Hale?”
“Oh. Um, yes, I think… Yes, it’s a good idea. Uh-huh. So… you’re sleeping okay then?”
“Dr. Hale?”
“Yes?”
“I know it sounds weird me asking this, but are you okay?”
“Me? Yes, I’m fine.”
“You look… I’m sorry, but you just look a little pale. And you zoned out there for a minute. Usually you’re not like that. You always listen to everything I say.”
“I’m fine. Really. Just a little… I’m fine. I promise. And I love the painting. In fact, I’m going to hang it up on my mantle right after you leave.”
Chapter 32
ADRIENNE
Before
As I lie in Luke’s arms, I can’t stop thinking about the prescription I wrote for EJ.
I thought spending the evening with Luke would take my mind off of it. And it did for a little while. Luke is good at getting me to laugh, even when I’m in a terrible mood. But tonight is a lost cause. EJ claimed it would be the only prescription he would ask from me, but he was lying. I knew it without even seeing the twitching under his right eye.
He will keep asking for more and more. Pushing me harder and harder.
I have to stop him.
Luke squeezes my shoulders, pulling me closer to his warm body. I try to banish thoughts of EJ from my head and enjoy lying next to Luke. I cleared out a drawer for him a few days ago, and as he filled it with his clothing, the thought occurred to me that it might not be so bad if he were living with me. It would be nice to have him around all the time.
Not now. But maybe someday.
“That portrait of you is so great,” he comments. “It looks just like you.”
It was funny the way Luke’s mouth dropped open when he saw the almost comically large portrait of me that I hung over the mantle. I hung it there partially to make him laugh. But I also did it for my patient. Her traumatic experience formed the crux of my newest book. She’s made a lot of progress with me, and I suspect we will conclude our sessions soon.
“You don’t think it’s too gigantic?” I ask.
“No way!” He squeezes me again. “It’s larger than life. Like you.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it.” His lips press against my forehead as he holds me close to his body. “And also, I love… you.”
There it is. The three words we’ve both been skirting around for the last several weeks. He finally cracked and said it like I knew he would. I’ve heard those words said to me several times before, but this time I do something completely unexpected and inappropriate and unlike me.
