Page 41 of Physical Therapy

NINETEEN

Boe

Her silence should make me happy. I mean, wasn’t that the point to what I did? To be an asshole?

She hurt me. So it was only fair I hurt her back. But I expected maybe a few days at most before she slid that professional mask back in place and made contact about my next appointment.

Nope. All I got was a goddamn reminder card in my email from her receptionist, Molly. Perhaps I should arrange a revenge fuck? Although, I get the feeling that wouldn’t do much but prove Edith’s assumptions about me correct—I’m heartless.

Except heartless is the last thing I am as I sit here in my office, watching the digital time on my computer flick past my next scheduled session.

Call me desperate, but I hoped that missing our appointment without any reason why might make Edith poke her head out of her goddamn clinical hole.

A flash of blond catches my eye and I lift my head in time to see who it is that passes my open door. “Rogers!”

The jerkoff backtracks, leaning backward at a comical angle to poke his head around the doorjamb. “You need me?”

“Come in.” I wave halfheartedly at the secondhand chair I’ve managed to claim as my own for visitors.

He dusts the worn fabric off and takes a seat.

“How’s Kendra?”

Rogers’ jaw stiffens. “Why?”

I slowly lean back in my seat, hands casually at my hips. “Curious is all.”

Truth be told, something has shifted. Once upon a time, this big bad wolf wouldn’t have given a fuck if people got butthurt at the truth. But for some unknown goddamn reason, he’s been on my mind lately.

“She’s good.”

I nod, twisting my lips. “You two…” I wind my hand before me. “Serious now?”

He nods hesitantly. As he should.

“Nice.” Fuck, this is weird. “Look, I didn’t mean to start anything with what I said the other day.”

He waves me off. “No. I should thank you, actually.”

He should what? “Hey?”

“Because of what you said,” Rogers explains, “we took the time to air some shit we might not have talked about otherwise.”

“Oh.” I swear my eyebrows are set to leave my forehead. “Well that’s good, I guess.”

“Yeah.” He stands, seemingly as uncomfortable as I am. “Well, I need to get on with wrapping up a contract.” He thumbs toward the door.

Jesus. I feel like a desperate ex trying to win back her man. A cool shiver ripples through my shoulders. “Of course.” I give him a sideways nod. “Just wanted to be sure things were okay, you know…”

“Boe,” he appeases. “It’s okay. I knew she had a history. You didn’t warn me about anything I didn’t know.”

“Still. You can’t judge her on her past. Although—“ I twist my lips “—just watch her if you two ever do split. She has a real vindictive streak.”

“Don’t most women?” he jests, heading out of sight.

He has a point there.

I stare at the empty doorway as a ping sounds from my mail app. I shift my focus to the open laptop and frown at the subject line, highlighted in bold.

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