Page 38 of Wicked S.O.B.

“And why not?”

I shrug. “Well, we didn’t move.”

“Right. Do you see that as a positive?”

I’m a little irritated that he doesn’t see things the way I do. “That’s a good thing, right? He stayed at the scene of the crime, as it were, rather than turning his back on it and pretending it didn’t happen.”

I flick a glance at Quinn. I can tell he’s a little annoyed that I’m talking about him as if he’s not here. I turn and glare at Dr. Freeman, my eyes telling him to throw us a fucking bone.

“It is, but that’s just the start.”

“We know that,” Quinn and I both respond in unison. I look over at him and smile. His lips twitch in response but the intensity of his gaze doesn’t wane.

“The ideal situation would be for such behavior not to occur in the first place.”

Finally, Quinn faces him. “With respect, we’re not coming here for you to state the obvious, Dr. Freeman.”

Dr. Freeman gives a little smile. “You left here a little agitated on Friday, Quinn. After we talked about your father. Is that what triggered the episode?”

Quinn gives a bitter laugh. “I’d say so, yes. So how about we make a very concerted effort to avoid discussing him?Indefinitely?”

“Was that all it was?”

Quinn opens his mouth, and I think he’s about to tell the good doctor to fuck off. But he pauses for a long moment. “I don’t do so well when Elyse isn’t around,” he admits with a low, grim voice.

Dr. Freeman nods. “And you don’t like how that makes you feel?”

“Of course not,” he snaps as he pulls my hand into his lap.

“We talked about crutches and how to start weaning yourself off them.”

“And I remember asking you why the fuck I’d want to wean myself off the woman I love,” he delivers with icy calm. “Don’t think you had an answer for me, Doctor.”

Dr. Freeman doesn’t rise to the bait. He merely makes a note on his pad. “I guess we’ll take the journey to that enlightenment together.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Quinn demands.

“I…I think what he’s saying is that, if you direct some of that love…elsewhere, maybe things won’t feel so bleak?”

Dr. Freeman smiles at me, and I feel like I’ve won the lottery.

Quinn tunnels his free hand into his hair and mutters under his breath. “I need to lovemyself? That’s your answer?” he asks incredulously.

“With a little forgiveness tossed in, yes,” Dr. Freeman replies.

“And how the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“You can start with accepting that what happened to your mother wasn’t your fault.”

Quinn’s grip turns viselike, and that deathly stillness I hate blankets him. “That’s a fucking tough ask, Doctor. I knew what Maxwell and Delilah were doing to her, and I did nothing.”

“You were a child yourself, Quinn. And you did do something. You documented what your father and stepmother were doing. In your own way, you helped your mother. But short of stepping in front of the bullet, you couldn’t have stopped her from ending her own life. But you can stop the trajectory you’ve set your life on.”

For the first time since the day I came back into Quinn’s life a year ago, I watch the first strain of hope shift through his eyes. He turns his head, and even though he’s asking Dr. Freeman the question, he keeps his eyes on me. “How do I even begin?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Dr. Freeman answers.

Quinn remains silent for an interminable minute. Then he nods. “Okay.”

---