Page 38 of How Much For A Broken Heart?

And by the time I left, my feelings for him had grown way more complicated than respect for his skills.

I think I might be in lust.

Chapter Fourteen

AUGUST

If there was one thing I hated more than being stuck in this bed, it was the people who thought they had the right to sit next to me and preach.

Or read Reacher to me.

Dr. Simmons, a thirty-something counselor with a military bearing and a permanent frown, was explaining how Annie was downstairs, and it was in her best interest for me to be part of her life. All I could focus on was his tie with its teddy bears.

This was his third visit, and I’d listened to him tell me all the crap he thought I needed to hear. Call me a coward, but I pressed the button for meds and drifted away on a cloud of ignoring-the-fuck-out-of-him.

I’d even take another shower with Ryder, if it meant I could hide away—and that was a dangerous thought given all the weird feelings I was having about the idiot ranger. The thoughtful, caring, pushy, stubborn, idiot, ranger.

“August,” Dr. Simmons began and darted in to take the button from me, looping it around his hand and putting it out of reach. “I understand that this is incredibly difficult for you, but we need to talk about Annie.”

“No,” I said, firm and to the point.

“She’s been through a traumatic experience, and we want to ensure that she has a safe and supportive environment to heal, and that might include connecting to someone she knew from before.”

“She barely knew me.”

“You were in that house for six months, pretend-married, you were to all intents and purposes her second dad.”

“I said no.” I clenched my jaw and turned away from him in agonizing increments, gritting my teeth against the pain. What kind of asshole takes away a dying man’s meds? Not that I was dying, not before I finished things with Amos, but still, meds.

I couldn’t bear to think about Annie and the guilt, the fear, and the absolute determination that I shouldn’t be anywhere near her. She wasn’t my daughter. I heard the doc sigh, and then, he pressed on.

“Annie needs stability and love. You were a crucial part of her life whatever you think. We can work together to help her remember James.”

“That’s a low blow and fuck you, she’s not mine.” My heart broke at the lie in my words.

Dr. Simmons scraped the chair to the other side of the bed so I could see him, and his expression was filled with empathy. I didn’t want him to understand me. I wanted him to fuck off.

“You’re a connection to Annie’s father.”

“I kill people for a living.”

“And?”

“Fuck you.”

He leaned back in the chair, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Fuck you, back,” he said as if this was a joke.

I wanted to get out of bed and pummel his stupid face. “I have a gun.”

Another shrug, and he pressed a hand to his chest. “So do I. Three tours, Marine Corps, you want to have a gun-measuring competition, then whip it out, sailor.”

I rolled slowly to face away from him again, wires dragging, pain intensifying, and I heard the damn chair scrape again until once more, he was right in my face.

“We can take it one step at a time, and with therapy and support, we can help her heal, and you can remember the love you shared, and we can undo some of what happened.”

I shook my head, which freaking hurt. “I won’t put her through this. I’m not her family. Find her a family who can give her the life she deserves but keep me out of it.”

Dr. Simmons sighed. “You’re a selfish fucker, August Fox.” I closed my eyes, hoping he’d go away. “I won’t push you—I can’t until you’re well enough for me to knock some sense into you, but please consider the long-term impact on Annie. I’ll still be working with Lizzie on her therapy and healing process, even if you need more time. But I will come back, and I will drag you down to talk to her about her daddy.”

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