Page 45 of Hunt Me! (I Crave The Chase)

But I had the feeling…I was about to find out.

“How’s Blair?” the doctor asked.

I didn’t need to see Jeffrey’s face to hear the tension in his voice. “He’s good. Happy.”

“And that makes you…” she waited until he answered, a few awkward beats passing.

“Scared.”

“Right,” the doctor agreed, like they’d talked about it before. “We’ve touched on that before, but you weren’t ready to talk about it. Are you feeling more ready now?”

“I…” Jeffrey sucked in a breath. “No.” His heart was galloping. I ached for him. I couldn’t leave the cab, but I paced as best I could across the seats, restless. “Can we talk about something else?”

“What would you like to talk about?”

“I don’t know. Just not…that. I’m not…I just. I can’t. Not yet.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” the doctor’s voice was gentle. “We’ve got time.”

Jeffrey laughed, but it was a bitter sound. “Do we? Because I want to get better. Like…yesterday. I’m so fucking tired of feeling like this. I’m sick of coming here—and talking about things I hate talking about. I’m sick of the fact that I have shit I need assistance working through.”

“You resent therapy.”

“I resent needing help.” His voice was tight. “I’m…not used to it.” His voice cracked at the end.

I thought of how good he’d felt in my arms. How right. How his scent was happiness-mate-home even when he was hurting. How he made my skin feel too tight, and my blood sing.

How desperately he’d needed comfort that day, and how glad I was that I had been there to give it—even though it was my fault he’d needed it in the first place.

“Why is that, do you think?” the doctor asked.

There was a long pause, and I knew—I knew there was no going back from this. There was no forgetting these words. No forgetting the raw honesty that fell from Jeffrey’s tongue. No forgetting the acid in his tone and the fear that quaked within every syllable.

“I…” Jeffrey sucked in another breath. “I’m just…not.” He sounded so small. So very small.

“Because of Lydia?” Doctor Mason guessed.

“Yeah.” Even that single word sounded painful.

“You’re used to being the one who is needed,” the doctor sussed out. “It is difficult for you to accept a role that isn’t protector.”

“…yeah,” Jeffrey agreed, voice still rough. “I think so. I…” Jeffrey paused for a second, gathering his thoughts. “Do I have to talk about this?”

“If you have something to share, it might help me understand how to help more.”

Jeffrey blew out a breath. “Right. Okay.” He was silent again for a few seconds, and when he spoke my heart ached anew. “For so long…looking after Blair was all I had. It’s the only part of myself I still like—and doesn’t feel totally foreign.”

“Having crises of identity is understandable given what you’ve been through.”

What had he been through?

“When Lydia…kidnapped me?—”

My thoughts screeched to a halt.

Kidnapped. Kidnapped? What did he mean kidnapped?

“As a kid,” Jeffrey continued as if he hadn’t just shattered my brain into tiny little pieces. “There were all these…rules.” He spoke slow and soft, as if he was far, far away—trapped inside his own head. “I wasn’t allowed to talk to Blair about who I was before. I had to wear the clothes she picked out for me. Had to use the name that she’d given me. Had to pretend like Oregon wasn’t a new and…scary place.”

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