The Next Of Us (Sage Ridge)

Chapter 1 Answers

Answers

Aaron

Studiously avoiding her wide, doe-eyed stare, I called out a falsely cheerful good morning as I passed through reception and stalked back to my office. Only once I closed my door did my shoulders drop.

But I didn’t breathe any easier.

Up until six months ago, my office was as comfortable and comforting as my own home. Working alongside Max, my stepfather and mentor, had bolstered me in so many unforeseen ways. Steady as the sun and smart as a whip, Max both challenged me and provided me a soft place to land.

The front door of our practice opened up into a reception area that could easily be mistaken for somebody’s family room save for the three desks scattered around the perimeter of the room.

Couches, deep armchairs, side tables, toys, puzzles, bookshelves, and a gas fireplace all worked together to further the notion.

The hallway behind reception led to a bathroom and two offices, Max’s and mine. Max’s office was a designer’s dream. Mine was slightly more perfunctory and playful. Seeing as my clientele usually veered toward the younger side, they appreciated my more casual approach.

I mean, who doesn’t like a beanbag chair?

Hanging my coat on the hook behind the door, I ran my hands through my hair and sat down at my desk. Situated directly in front of the window, it at least gave me the illusion of being outdoors.

I dragged the pads of my fingers along its smooth, glossy surface until I reached the scratch that afforded us a 50% discount and smiled.

Nadine had been thrilled when she found it.

My mom loved it almost as much, and took great satisfaction in informing us all the best things were slightly dented.

My smile softened at the thought of the scratch and dent kitchen table from my childhood that my mother still refused to relinquish.

Vera, who had worked with Max forever, barked out a laugh. The sound drifted through my closed door and, reminding me of who else was out there, wiped the smile off my face.

The situation was becoming untenable.

No, it had sprinted past untenable weeks ago when Lynda, the single mom who worked for us, made her feelings clear. At the time, I put it down to misplaced gratitude for helping her nine-year-old son through a tough time.

Schoolyard bullying led him to picking at his skin and plucking his eyebrows thin. Stomach problems soon followed and then he outright refused to go to school. At the end of her rope, Lynda requested help.

She didn’t have to ask me twice. I understood the struggles of a single mom firsthand. After a few months, and several meetings with the school which I voluntarily attended with Lynda and her son, he reached a place where he no longer needed me.

It was then Lynda decided she did.

I passed her and her delusions over to Max. He addressed it in his usual compassionate but straightforward manner.

While she apologized and assured him it wouldn’t happen again, little had changed. The weight of her gaze found and followed me throughout the day despite my obvious coolness toward her. The woman couldn’t take a hint.

I wanted to ask Max to talk to her again but what was I supposed to say? She’s looking at me?

I didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to deal with her emotions. Perhaps, it was time she found another job.

Or, and even better idea, I could.

Because I barely had the bandwidth to deal with anybody’s emotions. In my line of work, this was a major fucking problem. Leaving sounded better all the time.

I huffed out a laugh at the impossibility of starting something new.

This was my job.

My calling.

There were some patients I truly looked forward to seeing. The ones who could laugh at themselves a little bit, who didn’t hesitate to get down to business, those who put their head down and did the work.

The others frustrated me to no end. There was a time those feelings had no place in my day. What would it take to get back to those days?

I wasn’t sure I cared enough to try.

Shortly before lunch, a soft knock I’d come to recognize and despise sounded at my door.

“Yes?” I barked.

The door cracked open tentatively. “Hey,” she breathed. Pale face flushed, eyes wide, she looked at me hopefully. “I’m heading to The Beanery. Can I get you anything? A muffin? Sandwich?”

“I’m good,” I replied shortly, training my gaze on the blank screen in front of me as if it contained the key to Holy Grail.

“Are you sure?”

I didn’t bother to mask my irritation as I cast my eyes vaguely in her direction. “Did you ask Max what he wanted? What about Vera?”

“N-no,” she sputtered, then straightened her spine. Her hands fluttered in front of her body.

I watched them move up to fiddle with the low neckline of her blouse. Had she always dressed like that? Was I getting paranoid about her attentions?

“I just thought with how busy you’ve been, you might need a little extra support.”

Support?

My eyes snapped up to meet hers. There was no mistaking the look of triumph in her eyes.

I barely repressed a sneer and smiled grimly instead. “Thank you, Lynda. You are not my personal assistant. Furthermore, my wife, who is an excellent chef, looks after me just fine.”

“But you’re here late every night…”

My brows lowered as my gaze narrowed. “And you know that how?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I walk past here every night after dinner. Maybe you should walk with me. I’m a good listener. It might clear your head.”

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I prayed for patience. Or serendipitous intervention. “That’s neither relevant nor any concern of yours,” I bit out only to be thankfully interrupted by Max.

“Lynda?” Max’s sharper than usual tone brokered no argument.

I sagged in relief.

He continued, “Come into my office please.”

She gaped and drew back, her eyes skittering between Max and me.

With a weary nod in my direction, Max indicated he would take care of the situation in the precise way we’d been trying to avoid. It killed me for it to come to this because she needed the income.

But I wanted her gone.

When my door snicked gently shut, I sat back in my chair and stared unseeing out the window. If I leaned to the side, I could almost see the tip of Wildflower Bluffs.

I lost several minutes staring at the bluffs before Max’s large shadow darkened my desk. I jerked upright. “Well?”

With a deep sigh, he settled in the chair across from me and crossed his ankle over his knee. “I gave her two weeks notice.”

I grimaced. “I’m relieved and I feel so shitty about being relieved.”

His lips tightened as he nodded in agreement.

“There’s no help for it. I did, however, secure her an interview with my accountant.

He’s desperate for help.” His grin made him look twenty years younger, bringing me back to that most magical, and stressful, time of my life.

“And it helps that he’s pushing seventy. ”

I chuckled, the sound dry and raspy from disuse.

“Aaron—” he began.

I held up a palm, closing my eyes to shield myself from the compassion in his. “I can’t, Max.” I looked away and sighed. “I know I need to, but not just yet.” As if reminded, I lurched forward, tugged the top drawer open, and withdrew the file on impulse.

“You’re not going to find answers in there,” Max countered firmly.

I dropped it back inside and slammed the drawer shut. “I know…I know and yet I can’t give up the idea the answer is in there.” I scrubbed my hand over my face. “I can’t fix my mistake if I can’t find it.”

Standing abruptly, Max held out his hand. “Let me take another look.”

I recoiled at the idea of releasing Ryan’s file to Max. I wasn’t hiding anything. In the early days, when Rhonda Deevers was threatening to sue, Max pored over the file with me, searching for a clue.

I simply didn’t want to relinquish it. I wanted it buried in my drawer under lock and key along with my horror, guilt, and obvious failure.

“Give it to me, son,” he continued, his voice gentling. “I’ll go over it again and compare it to my notes from my check-ins with Ryan. If there’s anything you missed, I promise I’ll tell you.”

But you’re here late every night…

I held Max’s gaze.

I couldn’t keep going the way I was.

My wife deserved better.

Sliding the drawer open once more, I looked down at my nemesis, tempted beyond reason to flip through my notes one more time.

Ignoring the urge, I handed it over, and a thousand pounds shifted from my shoulders. I inhaled deeply. “Thank you.”

“Why don’t you take the next two weeks?”

My gaze snapped up to his as my brow furrowed. “What?”

While Max and I still worked together, at this point I carried most of the therapeutic load while he focussed on initial assessments, diagnoses, follow-ups, and recruiting his replacement.

As much as I dreaded Max leaving, it would be good to partner with another full-time therapist. As it was now, the hours grew as my tolerance waned. Not a good combination.

He nodded. “I’ll take any patients that can’t miss, the rest can reschedule.”

My mouth hung open.

What would I do for two weeks?

How would I fill the hours? I snapped my mouth shut so hard my teeth clicked.

It’s not like I couldn’t afford to shuffle vacation time around to accommodate the extra time off, but two weeks alone with my thoughts?

No.

He looked at his watch and pushed back from his desk. “I’ve got preliminary interviews lined up this week and next. When you get back, we can decide who to bring back and see them together.”

“That would be good.” I heard the relief seeping into my voice.

He chuckled. “Take Nadine up to the cabin for a few days. See if you can reset.” His amiable smile gave way to a look of deep concern. “And if you’re still in this place when you get back, you’re going to need to talk about it.”

“I know.”

I know.