Page 28 of Silent Threat
Her stomach growled. Too bad she’d overslept. She had an appointment with Dr.Ambrose, the psychiatrist on staff, at eight.
Could she cancel?
Normally, she would have fed her animals by now and let the llamas and the donkey out to graze. She had a ton of stuff to do today.
Or was that just an excuse to cancel because she didn’t want to see Dan? She had conflicted feelings that she wanted to unconflict first.
All the therapists and counselors were in therapy themselves. They took on various emotional burdens from patients that needed to be dealt with. Trouble happened when problems were allowed to pile up and be internalized.
Annie had gone to some dark places with her patients. She had to cleanse herself on a regular basis to wash away that darkness, to be ready for the next session and the next. So, fine, Dan wasn’t optional.
“Here she comes.” Dan Ambrose had his door open and waved her in.
The staff psychiatrist was forty-two and kept in shape, although he didn’t have that warrior body most of the patients at Hope Hill did. He didn’t look military; he looked like an academic. Which he was. He gave classes at West Chester University now and then, a class or two every couple of semesters—Psych 101 and Abnormal Psychology. When he’d had the flu this past summer, Annie had helped him grade papers. He was handsome in a soft, good-looking professor kind of way, with dark-blond hair, brown eyes, and a pleasant face.
He reached for the bulky, knitted sweater on the back of his chair and pulled it on. “I sit too much,” he said on a sigh. “My circulation isn’t what it used to be. I’m always cold lately. Shouldn’t I be too young for this?” He gave a self-depreciating chuckle.
Annie closed the door behind her and slid into the large leather armchair that faced the desk. The chair had been bought with well-built soldiers in mind. She felt like Alice in Wonderland after taking the pill that made her shrink.
“I hear you had a rough day yesterday,” Dan said.
“Not as rough as it could have been. I got a room here.”
“Good.” Dan flashed a warm smile.
They’d gone out together a few times. Actually, she’d thought they were consulting over dinner. Right up until Dan had tried to kiss her. Could have knocked her over with a feather. She’d extricated herself, but things had been awkward for a week or so after that. She had no idea what he’d been thinking. Dating a coworker was as big a taboo as dating a patient. Technically, shewashis patient. They had sessions.
Maybe Dan liked her because they had psychology in common, and other things too. She’d been raised by a single mother; he’d been raised by a single father. They often talked about that. But their similar pasts and interests wouldn’t be enough basis for a romantic relationship, even under different circumstances. She’d never felt any attraction toward him.
“So how is the house?” he asked.
“I’ll let you know after I talk with the contractor.”
“If there’s anything you need, just let me know.”
“Thanks.”
Dan held her gaze for a moment to make sure that she really was all right, and then he glanced at his notebook. “You started with a new patient this week. How is that going?”
How long do you have?
Annie didn’t want to talk to Dan about Cole, but she had to. She felt an unexpected attraction to him that wasn’t entirely patient-appropriate. Normally, when she looked at a patient, she didn’t allow attraction as an option. But when she’d first met Cole, she hadn’t known that she would soon be working with him.
She settled back in her chair and gave the abridged version of their initial meeting, then talked about Cole going with her to the midnight feeding.
With any other patient, she wouldn’t have done it. But Cole did have that possible tendency to self-harm, which still worried her. And he had a marked resistance to therapy. Spending extra time with him could work. Being away from the facility might help him let his guard down. If she could build credibility with him, that would increase the chances for a successful treatment outcome exponentially.
Dan kept his voice carefully neutral when he asked, “Do you think it’s smart to see him outside of therapy?”
“I think he needs normalcy. They all do. And I think being around animals is therapeutic.”
“We have the cats for that.”
She bit back a smile. “The skunks did alarm him.”
He watched her as he steepled his hands. “Are you getting attached to this man?”
“No.” A slight attraction did not equal attachment. “I like him.” She could admit that much. “I don’t know why.” She slumped in the chair. “He’s not a fan of ecotherapy. Only signed up for more sessions because he liked the idea of art therapy even less.” And he needed the minimum required therapy hours to be able to stay at Hope Hill.
