Page 135 of The Last Good Man

She doesn’t need to hint at that again.

I definitely need to leave.

Despite hoping that he and I could meet again, Idon'twant toruninto him right now.

This is crazy.

I can’t believe how differently I think about him now.

He’s like a disease quietly sneaking past my lines of defense and irreversibly making me crumble.

Shaking at the idea that my therapist has intimate conversations with him, while I’d look silly if I questioned him on the things he said to me last week, I push out of my seat a little too fast before getting dizzy and staggering for a moment.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, not bothering to answer my previous question about her pro bono work.

She doesn’t need to.

I know he’ll be here any moment now.

At least she’s expecting him.

Perhaps she’s experiencing trepidations like me now, as men like him often don’t show up.

They don’t make it. Their lives are complicated. Things come up. And on and on and on.

And we can’t even question them because our resoluteness dissolves when they cast a look at us.

“Yes. Yes. I’m fine.”

I regain my focus, collect my trench, and put it on before snatching up my bag and heading to the door.

“Next Tuesday then?” she murmurs in my wake, unable to give me her full attention.

“Yes. Probably… I’ll let you know if anything changes,” I say without turning around.

“Thank you,” she tosses at me just asI’m about towalk out, and I glance at her over my shoulder.

Standing behind her desk, she checks something on her phone.

I hope it’s not him.

A sigh of relief rolls off my chest as I stroll out of her office and cross the waiting area.

The place is empty and quiet.

If he indeed comes, he’ll be late.

Quietly, I open the door and peer down the stairs.

The place is almost as dark as last week, and stepping into the stairwell, I relive my first encounter with Jax London.How strong that first impression was.

Frozen, I keep staring down the stairs, expecting him to show up.

People live upstairs, yet there are no domestic sounds. No voices, no laughter, no TVs.

Eventually, I set myself in motion and barely take the first step down when the door on the first floor opens, and a dark silhouette slips in.

I know it’s him from how his broad shoulders fill his jacket.

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