Page 60 of Penalty to the Heart

Oh, no, no, no.

I freeze in place, both mortified and scared to turn around.

“I asked you a question. What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

My heart beats maniacally in my chest as I slowly turn around to face him.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. I just… I was…”

What the hell was I doing?

“What?” he sneers.

“I just wanted to put a face to the name, I guess. Everyone speaks so highly of your brother that I just wanted to see him for myself. But you’re right. You’re absolutely right. Sneaking into his room without your permission was completely out of line, not to mention unprofessional on my part. I’m so terribly sorry.”

Even though my apology is heartfelt, from where I’m standing, Caleb’s light, emerald eyes look awfully pitch-black. When he turns his back on me, I let out the breath I had been holding and step as far away from his brother as possible. In complete silence, I watch Caleb grab a chair from the corner of the room and place it right at his brother’s bedside. Once seated, he places his brother’s hand in his and stares at Jack’s face.

“What did you hear?” he asks after a long stretch of silence. The question comes out so softly that I almost don’t hear him over the loud, ringing panic in my ears.

“That Jack is extremely talented. That he makes all his colleagues feel appreciated and valued. That he’s a good man. Some even consider him to be the best of men.”

“What else?” he asks, his voice no longer holding the same malice it did a few seconds ago.

“They say he’s a good friend. A good husband and father. And from what I’ve gathered, a good brother, too.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “You can go now.”

When he senses my hesitation in leaving him alone, he turns his head over his shoulder to look me in the eye. “I need a moment with my brother, Roxanne. Please.”

All I can do is nod since no one with a working heart could oppose such a request.

I exit the room, albeit reluctantly, shutting the door and leaning my head against it.

What was I doing?

What did I think I could accomplish with seeing Jack?

Did I think he would open his eyes and tell me the best way to help his brother?

Was that what I was hoping for?

It’s been years since I got my doctorate and started treating patients, and never in all that time have I ever acted so foolishly.

What makes Caleb Donovan so special that he has me acting this way? Making me break the rules, left and right, for him? Could it be my need to connect with him, wanting to show him that I understand what he’s going through? Could I somehow see bits and pieces of myself in him because I lived that misery, too? Aside from these reasons, I can’t fathom another that makes sense.

A rational, responsible therapist would not act this way.

Yes, a good therapist would go above and beyond to help their patients in any way they can, but there have to be limits. A set of rules we must never break.

And sneaking into the room of a patient in a coma definitely seems to fall in that category of things NOT to do.

So does leaning against the door like some mad woman looking like she wants to hear whatever deep conversation is taking place inside.

Argh!

Seriously, Roxanne! What is wrong with you?

Unwilling to get caught and be accused of eavesdropping, I push myself off the door and run like the wind out of Mass General. It’s only when I get to the parking lot and click on the car keys to disable the alarm that lucidity finally pays me its visit.

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