Page 33 of Physical Therapy

“That’s an extreme way to prove a point.” I fold my hands in my lap and study him.

He hesitates, eyeing the way I sit before him.

My gut sinks.

“I said off the fucking record, Edith.” Boe stands, his leg knocking me sideways in the process.

“We are.”

“And then you lie to me,” he says as though the very words disgust him.

I back up and rise to my knees as he strides to the wall and promptly throws a fist into it. The plaster crackles, yet no hole forms. It appears to frustrate him further, given the extra three hits he deals the same spot.

Boe only stops when the destruction is complete.

I stay prone, observing in a disassociated way. It’s the only way to stay level in this hothouse of anger.

“Do you even know how to switch off?” He spins, the heat in his gaze unsettling.

I shuffle back until my feet touch the TV unit. “I honestly didn’t realize I was doing it.”

“Bullshit!”

He sees right through me. Damn it. I forget how perceptive he is.

“Was that the real reason behind your visit tonight?” he scathes, arms folded as he glares at me. “Get me on side. Make me let my guard down.” He takes a menacing step forward, bending at the waist to level our faces. “Did you get what you need, Doctor?”

I feel every single heated word against my face. Every. Single. One.

Boe rears back and I take my cue to leave. The situation is on a rapid decline from bad to worse. One more minute in this dance might be all it takes before I’m his next charge on the rap sheet.

“I don’t think anything I say right now would sway your opinion,” I state, grabbing my coat.

He shakes his head, refusing to look at me as I shirk his T-shirt, and then don my coat. “Yeah, probably not.”

Like a petty child, he waits until I’m at the door before he delivers the final line.

“Not when I’m sure I just figured out the truth, Doc.”

His continued moniker for me slices like the knife he intends it to be. Five seconds is all I give. Five shallow breaths while I wait with my hand on the door for him to realize how unfair he’s been.

I never get the apology I hope for. Instead, I get the sinking feeling I’ve come to expect after every damn interaction with Boe Johanssen.

The one that tells me some people never change.

And as it seems, neither do I.

Otherwise why else would I be crying in the damn lift?

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