Page 103 of The Potter

But, I’ll get there.

Eventually.

Vance

“Since we last spoke, your case settled, and your patient, Ms. Belle, has been in California.”

My therapist, Dr. Johnson, is the last person I want to see right now, but after sleeping through a meeting, Astor demanded I come for a session. Honestly, I could give two shits about Astor’s demands, but I haven’t slept well in weeks.

I’m exhausted, grouchy, and per Astor, a real pain in the ass.

So, here I am, attempting to fix whatever is plaguing me.

“That’s correct.”

I try relaxing on the sofa that, I’m sure, makes most patients more comfortable. But not me. All I can think about is how the blue fabric is the same color as Halle’s eyes.

“And you’re back in the operating room full time now?”

I nod. “Yes, daily.”

Every single time I walk into the room full of steel and straps, I think of Halle’s naked body stretched out in front of me. So vulnerable, so trusting. I’ve had to jerk off before surgery just so I don’t get a semi walking in.

“And how does operating again make you feel?”

Like something is missing.

“Fine, I guess.” I shrug. I don’t want to tell Dr. Johnson my issues with hard-ons in the OR. I doubt either of us would feel comfortable. I don’t pay him to make me feel like a horny teenager by discussing the fact that I’m unable to control my urges regarding a certain woman.

“You guess?” He arches a brow. “How have you been sleeping?”

And this is where I really need answers. “Not well.”

“Have you changed your routine lately?”

Yes, I’m not sleeping next to a naked woman who drives me batshit crazy with her defiance and sweet laughter.

“No.”

“Wasn’t Ms. Belle staying with you up until she left for California?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think that could be factoring into your restlessness? Maybe you had unknowingly established a routine with her?”

“It was a temporary arrangement between us. She needed me to help her through recovery.”

Dr. Johnson is braver than I gave him credit for. “Did she really, Dr. Potter?” He gives me this look that clearly indicates he knows I’m lying. No, I didn’tneedto help Halle recover from surgery, but I wanted to. And I’ll take that information to the grave.

I exhale and adjust my tie for no other reason than so I don’t storm out of here. “Yes, she had no family here and no one to change her dressings.”

He nods and scribbles something on his notepad. “And how does her absence at the office feel?”

Like a big fucking absence. “I fired Serena last week, so it feels a little understaffed as we speak.”

It’s been a bad day—okay, maybe a bad couple of weeks.

Serena tried consoling me with hateful comments about Halle for the last time. I snapped. But Dr. Johnson doesn’t need to know that.

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