Page 2 of Volatile

She moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Anthony is taking care of it, so I came looking for you. Thought you might be up here.”

Jon nodded. He rarely went into the playroom anymore, instead preferring to use one of the upstairs rooms, and these days only Lizbeth accompanied him. It had taken Jacque long enough to even convince him to return; the threat of Ian and Julia showing up always in the forefront of his mind. But he soon realized that his worries were unnecessary. They had their own private room on the lower floor and would never come during a public party. Their own private room. He felt sucker-punched. This was the last thing he needed to be thinking about.

“I need a favor, Jon.”

“And what would that favor be?”

“I’d like to refer a client to you.”

He ran his hands down his face. “I’m already fully scheduled, Jacque.”

“Yes, I imagine wallowing in self-pity does take up quite a bit of time.”

He raised an eyebrow. He did not wallow. He worked, he drank, he fucked. Wallowing was something a teenage girl did when her crush didn’t ask her to prom.

“If that’s your way of asking for a favor, I suggest changing your tactics.”

And she would. He knew her well enough to know her patterns. Jacque was a straight shooter; she didn’t tip-toe around her opinions, but she was also kind and fiercely protective to those she cared about. Her concern for him was as subtle as a brick to the head, and he knew he was screwed. It’d be damn near impossible to deny her anything.

She touched his knee gently. “It’s not just for me; it’s also a favor for Cherise.” She smiled, no doubt knowing the card she was playing. “And I know you love her almost as much as I do.”

Of course, he did. Cherise had come into Jacque’s life and made her incredibly happy. How could he not love someone who gave his best friend such pleasure? They were perfect for each other.

Jon filled his lungs with a deep, stabilizing breath, exhaling slowly before speaking. “Who’s the client?”

Her smile grew wider. “Her name’s Lilian—Lily—Swanson, age nineteen. Goes to North Hill Community College. Her older sister, Ivy, works for Cherise at the flower shop. She’s the one asking for help. Ivy noticed some bruises on Lily, and when she confronted her, Lily blew it off, saying it was a one-time thing and nothing to worry about. Ivy disagrees. She wants to see charges pressed. She’s worried sick that if Lily doesn’t stop protecting this guy she’s seeing, things will escalate. Ivy ended up giving her an ultimatum—seek professional help or get the police involved.”

Jon raked his hands through his hair. He failed to see how this involved him. Not at this stage in the process. “If this is a domestic violence case, it is a police matter, Jacque. You know that. If Ivy is that concerned, she should file a report herself. She’s well within her rights to do so, with or without her sister’s consent.”

“This is where things get a bit tricky. Ivy doesn’t know who the guy is. She suspected Lily was seeing someone but didn’t know details or even a name. Lily never talked about it, and Ivy didn’t push. Until the bruises appeared on her neck. That’s when she freaked out and started demanding answers. And when she didn’t get any, Ivy insisted that she enter therapy in the hopes of coming out on her own or else be declared an accessory to a crime and be forced to talk.”

This was not how he pictured his day ending. Jon figured he’d get his temporary fix, then go home and finish off with a bottle, making him forget the night ever happened.

He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If this young woman is a victim, her sister traumatizing her further with threats and humiliation is not the way to go.”

“I agree with you, Jon, and I met with Lily. Only briefly, and she’s a bit reserved, but it was enough to convince me that something else is going on here. My instincts could be off, but I don’t think this is an assault case. And I also know my limitations and your strengths. After speaking with her, I believe you’d be better suited to help and get her to open up.”

“I don’t know what’s going on, but this doesn’t appear to be the type of case for either of us, Jacque.” Unless it involved working through the aftermath of sexual abuse, it was not their area of expertise. “You wouldn’t hire a tax attorney to handle your divorce. If you need help with a recommendation—”

“No, trust me on this one. We’re therapists first and foremost. We help people. And I’m confident in your abilities to handle this one. Lily’s sister may be coming on too strong, but she’s doing it out of love. She’s trying to get her the help she feels she needs. She doesn’t want to make things more difficult for her if she can help it. Ivy also wants someone she can trust, and that’s why she confided in Cherise. She knows about me and my profession.”

“So, Ivy wants her sister to see a sexual surrogate?”

Jacque shot him a look. “No, Jon. Ivy wants Lily to see a trained psychologist, and she wants it done as discreetly as possible. Isn’t it our moral obligation to help if we can, despite our specialty field?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, unconvinced that he was the right person for the job.

“Does your silence mean yes?” she asked.

“No, it means I’m thinking about it.” But he already knew he would take the damn case. Jacque was one of the few left he couldn’t say no to. Besides, what could it hurt just to meet with the girl? If he didn’t feel he was qualified, he knew several experts who could easily take his place.

She squeezed his knee. “Great! I knew I could count on you. Oh, and one more thing. I hesitate to even mention this, but I don’t want you blindsided. Um, Lily reminds me of....” She paused. Damn it, Jacque. He knew exactly what she was going to say. “Well, she kind of reminds me of Julia. In several ways.”

Fuck. He sucked in deeply, the cool air hitting his teeth. Okay. So his new client shared a resemblance to Julia. Did it even matter? She could be a fucking carbon copy inside and out, and she still wouldn’t be the real thing.

Jacque didn’t say anything as she awaited his reaction. He hissed the air back out. “Fine. If she’s available, send her over tomorrow afternoon.”

She jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you, honey.” She gave him a big Jacque-style smack on the cheek, squeezing his head so tightly he thought he’d pass out. “And send me the bill. According to Cherise, Ivy’s barely scraping by as is. I offered to take her sister on pro bono.”

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