Page 31 of Misery and Ecstasy

“Woah.” She puts her hands up as a hint of a smile breaks across her face.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, Miss I-Push-Everyone-Away-So They-Can’t-Get-Close-Enough-To-Hurt-Me, that maybe you’re not the only one who was hurt by someone and not willing to let it happen again.”

Now I’m the one stunned into silence. But I expected nothing less from her. Perhaps that’s why I said anything to her at all. I knew she would give me the swift kick in the ass I need.

“I really hate that you know me as well as you do, you know that? But I’ve seen patients before with the same issue, and they haven’t gotten under my skin like this. Why him?”

“I don’t know… Maybe you secretly like him. I mean, maybe it’s more than just a fleeting fantasy dream.”

“Oh, please… There’s a difference between finding someone attractive and actually liking them.”

“Maybe.” Olivia shrugs her shoulders and cocks an eyebrow.

I laugh through my nose, knowing she’s probably sayingyou know I’m rightin her head right now.

“You don’t know this guy like I do, Liv. Even if Ididlike him… Even if he weren’t my patient…”

I trail off because I’ve already told her too much. I can’t tell her about him being part of the MC, too. I’m more afraid of them than I am of losing my license. Thankfully, she understands that I won’t be elaborating any further. A behavior of mine she’s come to learn very well since we first met in our sorority my freshman year of college.

“Well, it sounds like you dodged a bullet by him walking out, then. Let him find someone else, so you can be free of him.”

“Yeah.” Offering her a slight smile, I push myself away from her car. “Hey, I think I’m going to walk off my dinner tonight.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind driving you.”

“No, really. I want to walk. But thank you.” I pull her in for a hug to show my gratitude for her friendship and to put an end to our evening. I do want to walk, and I don’t want her trying to talk me out of it.

“Okay. Well, text me when you get home?”

“I will.” I wink before stepping around her. “Goodnight.”

As I begin the short, mile-walk home, I laugh sardonically at something Olivia just said to me.

Let him find someone else so you can be free of him.

I shake my head and exhale a shaky breath. All I’ve wanted since the moment I found out how deep I was in with the MC, before I even realized it, was to be free of them.

Royce has—on more than one occasion—reminded me that whatever I’m told in my sessions with Harleigh, Delilah, and now Draven, is to be held in the strictest confidence. That I need to have a separate understanding of doctor/patient confidentiality when treating the members and associates of the MC.

There’s a part of me that wants to plead with him to release me of the link to them I never asked for. To beg and promise him that I know nothing. That Delilah never admitted to knowing what happened to her father—including the MC’s role in it. And that whatever opinions I’ve formed on the subject don’t matter and will stay buried in the deepest, darkest recesses of my brain, never to be thought of again.

But there’s another whole ass part of me that, despite the fear and anxiety I carry over being with someone again, would give anything for one night with Draven. Just one wild, hot, carefree night with a guy who sets my soul on fire.

Maybe if he were some nameless, problem-free man I met in a bar. Someone whose history I don’t know or whose crimes I don’t have any suspicion of.

No, there’s no way I can get evenmoreentangled with the MC. But I do need to apologize to Draven before we continue our sessions. I highly doubt Royce will let him continue therapy with anyone else, but even if he does, I need to make things right.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

DRAVEN

Ifinish putting the palette of stone in the back of the pickup truck before hitting the brakes and tugging my shrilling phone from my pocket. I don’t recognize the number, so I send it to voicemail then wave goodbye to the customer as they close the bed of their truck before driving away.

A minute later, my phone beeps, letting me know I have a voicemail. Before deciding whether to listen to it or delete it, I drive the loader behind the showroom and shut it off.

As I step from the machine, I pull up my voicemail and listen to the message.

---