Page 46 of Penalty to the Heart

“No,” he snarls. “Stop making assumptions about shit that isn’t there.”

“Funny. And here I was, thinking that’s exactly how you wanted this dynamic to continue. Me making assumptions only for you to deny them.”

“Okay. I see what you’re trying to do. Fine. You want to get to know me, the real me, I’ll play along. But I’ll play this game my way. How about we do a little quid pro quo, Doc? I ask you something, and then you get to ask me all the infuriating questions you want. How does that sound to you?”

“That’s not how therapy works.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that shit before. But let me remind you that I’m not here of my own volition. If you want something from me, then you’re going to have to give me something in return. Take it or leave it, Roxie. Ball is in your court.”

“Very well,” I relent since this is the first time he actually looks interested in sitting down with me and answering any of my questions. “Who goes first?”

“You just did.” He grins mischievously. “My turn. How old are you, Doc?” he asks, the question coming out of left field.

“I don’t see how this is relevant to our session.”

“Indulge me. How old are you, Roxie? Late twenties… early thirties? Forty, maybe?”

“I’m thirty-three,” I reply matter-of-factly. “Satisfied?”

He nods, lying back on the couch and placing his hands behind his head. “Ask your question.”

“Why did you really start the fight in Florida?”

“Like I said, I was bored. Hitting someone felt like the right thing to do at the time. Like it would make me feel better.”

“And did it?”

“Nah, huh, Doc. It’s my turn now.”

I frown at his insistence on this game.

“I don’t see a ring on your finger,” he says, his gaze fixing its sight on my hands.

“That’s not a question.”

“No, it’s an observation.” He smiles devilishly. “Why is that?”

“Why don’t I have a ring on my finger?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t like wearing jewelry.” I offer a fake grin.

“Cute.” He smiles. “And to answer your previous question, yes. It did help. Hitting that guy helped for a second, at least. Then… it just didn’t.”

“Why? Why did it help only for a second?” I retort, happy that we’re finally getting somewhere.

“My turn. God, Roxie, for a well-educated, intelligent woman like yourself, you sure suck at this game.”

I bite my inner cheek, frustrated with the rules of this game.

“Now, let me repeat the question in a way that you’ll have to answer truthfully. You’re thirty-three. Accomplished and fucking drop-dead gorgeous. So I must know why you don’t have a ring on your finger? No way a woman like you would stay single for long. Not unless she doesn’t want to.”

“There you have it. You answered your own question,” I quip back.

“Bullshit.” He calls me out on the lie. “Tell me why, or we can end our little convo right here,” he threatens, glancing over at the door.

Unfortunately for me, this ridiculous game marks the first instance where Caleb has exhibited a willingness to engage in honest conversation with me. As much as I find his questions intrusive, I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

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