Page 49 of The Lessons

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“Look, it’s nothing I’m proud of. I behaved like a dumbass, did stuff I’m ashamed of.”

I looked at him incredulously. “So how’d you turn out so…not fucked up?”

He tilted his head up toward the ceiling and ran his hands over his face before looking back at me with an embarrassed grin. “Lots and lots of therapy.”

It took me a second to digest his response, but then I got it. “Ah, and so the student becomes the teacher?”

“Yeah. Something like that.” He sighed. “It’s been a long fucking road, but it’s really helped me come to terms with my?” He used his fingers to make air quotes.“?family dynamics.” Ryan looked across the elevator like he was gazing somewhere far away. “When I think about what I know now, I just…I just feel like I could have helped them, you know? But I was only a dumb kid. I didn’t understand what was going on.”

“You couldn’t have possibly—” I started. Wow. This man had way more going on below the surface than I’d imagined. My mind was going a mile a minute with questions.

“What about you? Can I ask about that?” He pointed down at the scar on my arm. “You said it was a curling iron, but…”

I looked down at the scar. I’d had it so long I barely noticed it anymore except when I was in front of the mirror. Then, it was a reminder of the early years. The years I’d rather forget.

“Yeah, to be honest, I don’t really remember getting it. My social worker said that when I was three one of my foster parents was a hairdresser. They left me alone in the salon while they ran next door for lunch. I burned myself with a curling iron.” I looked up at his face to gauge his reaction.

He looked shocked.

“Don’t look so horrified. I’m fine.”

“Natalie, a burn has to be pretty bad to scar like that. Are you sure it was just an accident?”

“Like I said, I don’t remember.” I honestly didn’t. “I’ve blocked a lot of my early childhood out. You psychologist types would have a field day with me.”

He did not look happy with that response.

“Relax. They yanked her foster care permit, and I got placed in a new home.”

“I should hope so.”

I nodded, unsure of what to say next.

“Gosh, how’d this conversation get so dark?” Ryan suddenly sat up. “Let’s change the subject. Who was that you were with the other day?”

“The other day?” I asked blankly.

“Yeah, on the street—Mr. Not Your Boyfriend. By the way, you shouldn’t wear skirts like that in the Tenderloin. It’s a rough part of town.”

“Skirts like what?”He’d noticed what I was wearing?Nerve endings all over my body started to tingle in celebration of this development.

He ran his hands through his hair, clearly exasperated at having to answer me. “Skirts that…short.” His voice had changed again. It was tighter, rougher.

Infinitely sexier.

I liked it a lot.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware I needed to clear my outfits with my sex surrogate,” I teased, purposely trying to rile him up.

He turned toward me, his eyes darkening. “You’ve got a bit of a smart mouth, Natalie,” He gazed down at my lips. “Or should I call you LeeLee?”

“Oh, God,” I groaned and threw my head back against the elevator wall.

“So…who was he?” Ryan murmured, this time picking up one of my hands. His grip dwarfed mine, and his voice was low and raspy. Maybe he did feel something for me. The thought made me so confused because I didn’t know what to feel. I mean, he was my therapist. He’d gone out of his way to state that explicitly.

---