Page 13 of Physical Therapy

“You know I’m not married. That I’m not in a relationship, either.”

Piercing eyes find my own. “You didn’t willingly share that information with me, though.”

“True.” Surely there was something else…

“How do you, then, with good conscience expect your patients to divulge their secrets with you if you don’t extend the same courtesy?” He mimics my position, a cheeky grin tainting his lips.

“Because they pay me to share their secrets, not mine.” I lean forward, dropping my feet to the floor. “What is it about therapy that unsettles you?”

“Nothing.” He again mirrors my action, moving toward me. “I don’t think I need it, is all.”

“You’ve been arrested for assault three times, before the courts for it twice, and left one man in the hospital.” I twist my lips up on one side as though thinking it over. “I’d say you need it.”

“Objective assessment, wouldn’t you agree?” Boe rises.

I tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. “One based on fact.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Firm fingers caress my chin. “The only fact between us is if you want to know more about me, about my history, and what the hell goes through this head of mine, you’ll need to do more than ask the right questions.”

He sneers as I pull my head free of his touch. “Such as what?”

“I’ll be in touch.” The bastard heads for the door.

“Our time isn’t up, Mr. Johanssen.”

“No, it isn’t,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ll be in touch when I want to finish this session.”

He’ll what?

I slide my shoes on swiftly, one after the other, and stand to question him further. Yet all that remains is an open door, and the lingering scent of a man who effortlessly maintained power the whole time we spoke, whether I knew it or not.

Perhaps I have underestimated his level of comprehension when it comes to mental manipulation?

Then again, perhaps it was simply my subconscious steering the meeting the whole time?

Either way, one thing is for sure. Four sessions will not be enough.

---