4. Meredith
MEREDITH
“Nice to see you again,” I say, smiling at Nate as he sits down, watching me quietly. I wasn’t sure if he would come back. He’s unpredictable, but I am very intrigued, and not just because he’s extremely good-looking.
He glances around the room before returning those blue eyes to me. “Do you like your job?”
I never know what he’s going to say, and I find myself enjoying that. “I do. Every day is different, and I like knowing I can help people.” I tilt my head and give a more honest answer. “I like trying to understand people and why they are programmed the way they are.”
“You must have a really analytical mind,” he replies. “And observation skills. I’m guessing you have to be calm and patient to build a safe enough environment so that your clients trust you.”
“This is a safe environment,” I echo. “Everything that we speak about is confidential, and there’s no judgment here.”
“I hate doctor’s offices.” His voice is now flat.
“Why?”
His throat works as he swallows. “Sitting here in this leather chair reminds me of when I was in foster care, sitting in the therapist’s office. They never gave a shit. They just wanted to offload as many kids as they could before a new batch of us arrived.”
Now we’re getting somewhere.
“How long were you in foster care?” I ask, trying to keep him on track, but he changes the subject.
“How open-minded are you, Doc?” he asks, and his eyes flick to mine, quick, heated, and then away.
“I’m here to listen, Nate.”
“You don’t like talking about yourself? Is this one of those ‘coaches don’t play’ things?”
That makes me laugh. “No, I don’t mind talking about myself, but why would you want to waste your session on that? We’re here for you.”
He’s very intelligent, and it’s almost like we’re playing a game of chess.
He leans back in the chair, folds his hands behind his head, and spreads his legs. “Do you trust your gut instincts?”
I nod. “Yes, I do. I always trust my intuition.”
“And what does your intuition tell you about me?” he asks, now leaning forward and not looking away from my gaze.
“I think you’re hurt, but you’re proud. You’re closed off and don’t like talking about your feelings,” I say gently.
“Do you think I’m a good man?”
We both don’t look away. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
He mutters something, but I’m not sure if I hear it right.
It sounded like… ‘I hope you remember that.’
After a long day of work and an hour of walking dogs, I get into my car and relax my head back against the headrest. I haven’t been sleeping well, and I’m exhausted. Although I love my job, it can be extremely draining, and I need to make sure I keep my cup filled so that I can pour it into others.
The session with Nate today was intense. He doesn’t give away much, so I have to read between the lines. I can’t help but replay our conversations over and over again.
Turning on the radio, I sing along to “Ruin My Life” by Zara Larsson. I’m not ashamed to admit I really get into it, hitting all the high notes and throwing the appropriate attitude the song requires.
By the time I make it back home, I’m more than ready for a bath, a glass of wine, and a night of reading in bed on my Kindle.
My mafia romance novel ended on a good chapter, and I can’t wait to dive back into it.
As soon as I turn off my engine, I’m undoing my seat belt when a cloth is suddenly shoved in front of my face.
I try to struggle, but then it all goes black.
Feeling a little dizzy and disoriented when I wake, I have no recollection of who I am or where I am.
It takes me a moment for it all to come back to me, and when it does, I quickly sit up and take in my surroundings.
I’m lying in the middle of a soft, king-size bed in a large bedroom.
There’s a window, and I can see trees outside, blocking the landscape.
Where the hell am I?
I’m still wearing my work clothes, and I can see the sneakers I changed into to walk the dogs neatly in the corner.
I look around for a weapon, quietly opening the drawers and checking the cupboards, but it’s all empty.
I’ve always wondered how I’d handle being in a dangerous situation like this, and I guess I’m about to find out.
Rushing to the door, I open it as slowly and quietly as I can, but come face to chest with a man.
A tall, muscular one, built with broad shoulders.
Glancing up at him, I recognize him straightaway.
Nate.
“What the fuck?” I snap, pushing at his hard chest. “You kidnapped me? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“You tell me, Doc.” He smirks, putting his hands in the air in submission. “I thought we could get to know each other a little better.”
I saw him earlier today and thought we had a good session. He opened up a little about foster care.
And now he’s fucking kidnapped me?
Am I dreaming?
I pinch myself, and it hurts.
No, not dreaming, but this is my reality.
“Then book another appointment,” I say between clenched teeth. “What made you think this was a good idea?”
“What if I didn’t want an appointment? What if I wanted to ask you out on a date instead?”
“Then you could have asked!”
Not that I would have said yes because he’s a client and clearly unhinged.
I promised him a safe space in my office. Now he’s taken me to his, and I’m the one questioning my safety.
“Would you have said yes?” he asks, reaching his hands up to lean against the doorframe, which makes his biceps strain against his white T-shirt.
I hate that I notice. I hate it even more when he smirks when he notices.
“I doubt you’d ever go out with a client.
No, you are too much of a rule follower for that.
A good girl. I bet you’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket. ”
“I got one in college,” I fire back, scowling. “Take me home, Nate, and make an appointment with me like a normal fucking person.”
He smiles, flashing straight white teeth. “I’m not normal, Doc. Now, are you hungry? I’m grilling some steaks.”
“You know what? Better yet, go and see someone else. Even I’m not qualified enough for this shit!”
With that, he smirks and walks off with that swagger of his, leaving me with my jaw dropped open.
He kidnapped me, and now he’s cooking steaks?
He’s clearly insane.
Wow.
Following him into the kitchen, I grab one of the knives out of the drawer and slide it into the waistband of my pants.
I’m not fucking ending up on Unsolved Mysteries.
And to think I was attracted to him. I’ve always known my taste in men was abysmal, but this is just taking the cake. I know I should be scared right now, but instead, I’m angry.
How dare he do this to me?
Storming after him, I find him outside on the porch, grilling on the barbecue with not a care in the world. Glancing around the modern log cabin on my way outside, I frown as I take in my surroundings.
There’s nothing but trees and land as far as the eye can see. “What kind of Wolf Creek shit is this?”
Clearly humor is my coping mechanism.
Nate puts his tongs down and turns around with amusement dancing in those ocean-blue eyes.
Fuck me.
I bet he knows how beautiful they are and uses it to his advantage. Oh my God, I’m one of those stupid women who ignore red flags just because the man is six-foot-four and pretty. I’m going to end up on a documentary and will probably need to find my own therapist.
“You’re handling this better than I thought.”
“For now. Crying won’t help.” Nor will showing fear. “I make no promises that I won’t be kicking you in the balls and stealing your keys the first chance I get.”
“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” he asks, sounding pleased by the idea.
“Should I be?” I ask, frowning. “I should. I’m out in the middle of nowhere with you. You’re a stranger.” And clearly not right in the head.
“Think of it like a little vacation. I’m not going to hurt you, Doc. I promise you that.”
“Like I can trust a word that you say,” I seethe, glancing around. “Where are we?”
“Just a tiny off-grid cabin for those who want to disconnect and take a few days to reset their nervous system.”
My eyes narrow. “I’m kidnapped! You’re fucking setting off my nervous system.”
Is this a joke to him? Does he have some sort of PTSD from being in foster care? It’s definitely a real thing. I wonder if this means he’s going to open up about his past and why he walked into my office in the first place.
I take a few deep breaths. Manage your fear, Meredith. Don’t let it control you.
“What a mouth you have on you, Doc. You don’t seem too scared to me,” he murmurs, lip twitching. “Now, how do you like your steak? And don’t say well done.”
Sitting on the swinging chair in front of me, I take a deep breath. I should probably feel scared and unsafe with Nate, but for some reason, I am pretty sure he’s not going to hurt me.
At least not physically.
“Medium rare,” I respond with a heavy sigh. I can’t run away from here. There’s nothing but forest, and I’m not sure how he got us here since I can’t see a car. It looks like I’m going to have to play his game. “So, how long are we staying here for? You know, people are going to wonder where I am.”
“I don’t know,” he replies, studying me. “Two nights, maybe? If I’m gone too long, people will come looking for me too.”
“What do you want?” I ask, frowning.
“To feel something,” he replies quietly, turning back to the barbecue.
He clears his throat and then says louder, “I want to make sure I can trust you before I tell you all my secrets, Doc.” I stare out at the trees, wondering what I’m meant to do right now.
I live alone, and it’s a Friday. Work will be trying to contact me if I’m not there on Monday, but that’s three days away.
The lady who runs the animal shelter, Sadie, will be questioning why I haven’t shown up to help her, though.
“Food is ready,” he says, placing my plate on the outdoor table. There’s a steak on it along with a baked potato, corn, and salad. “You want water or wine?”
“Water, please,” I mutter, my manners kicking in. He pulls out a chair for me, and I take a seat. “You cook often?”
“Not really anymore, but we had to cook for ourselves a lot growing up. Like I told you, my brother and I went into foster care after our parents died, so we had to grow up fast,” he responds, cutting into his steak and taking a bite.
He chews thoughtfully, then puts down the cutlery. “What about you?”
“I like to cook.”
“That’s all you’re going to give me?” he asks, smirking.
“You kidnapped me. I don’t owe you anything,” I fire back, but he just laughs. It hits his eyes and makes him even more sexy. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re unhinged?” I ask, eating a slice of tomato.
“No, that’s usually saved for Ghost,” he replies, amusement etched across his face.
“Who is Ghost?”
“A brother of mine.”
“How many brothers do you have?” I ask, my brow furrowing. “Is this the brother that you mentioned in my office that day?”
“No,” is all he gives me.
I decide to change the subject. “The steak is perfect.”
“So is the company,” he replies, winking at me.
“Is this your first kidnapping?” I blurt out. He stills, and then laughs, throwing his head back. I can’t look away. He has a really sexy throat.
“Yes, it is. How am I doing so far?” he teases.
“So good that you should take me home,” I grumble, but he just shakes his head at me.
“Come on, Doc. Spend some time with me. It’s not that bad, I promise. Don’t you want a break from all the hustle and bustle?”
“We live in a small town, Nate. There’s not that much hustle and bustle.”
He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. “Can you hear that? Birds. No cars. No people. No expectations.”
I take in his handsome face, with those full lips, a strong jaw shadowed with stubble, a straight nose, and high cheekbones. He’d probably hate to know how beautifully masculine I think he is.
“You know you’re crazy, right?” I interrupt his peace.
He opens one eye before closing it again. “Is that your final diagnosis?” He opens both eyes and looks at me. “You’re safe here, Doc. Like I said, I promise I won’t let anything hurt you.”
“Even yourself?”
“Especially myself.”