Chapter 20 #2
I look at her.
She keeps her eyes on the plate for a second longer, then lifts them to mine. There’s no defensiveness in her face now. No polished professional distance either. Just honesty, which somehow feels more dangerous than either.
“That doesn’t make this any less complicated,” she says quietly. “It just makes it harder to pretend it was simple.”
No. That’s not right.
I set my fork down and lean back slightly. “It wasn’t simple.”
Her mouth curves faintly, but there’s no humor in it. “Understatement.”
“I mean that there’s no reason to pretend it is. It isn’t,” I say. “And I’m not going to insult both of us by acting like it was some random lapse that means nothing.”
Her blue eyes hold mine.
“Okay,” she says softly. “That’s… something.”
“It’s the truth.”
She looks down at her coffee for a second, then back up. “The truth is still a mess.”
“Yes.”
“And we still have to figure out what to do with it.”
I let out a breath through my nose. “I know.”
Her fingers tighten a little around the mug. “Do you?”
“Yes,” I say again, more firmly this time. “I know this changes things.”
A beat passes.
“My question is,” I start, “can we continue with the reason I brought you here in the first place?”
She doesn’t answer right away. That pause feels longer than it should.
Then she sets the mug down carefully and looks at me head-on. “You mean, can I still do my job after last night?”
“Yes.”
Her expression shifts, something thoughtful and wary moving behind her eyes. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“Or whether this”—she gestures lightly between us— “is going to become the thing you hide behind every time the work gets too uncomfortable.”
My jaw tightens.
She notices.
“That wasn’t a no,” I say.
“No,” she agrees quietly. “It wasn’t. But you haven’t made it easy. You brought me here for a reason, and you’ve resisted every step of the way. I need to know that what happened isn’t going to be a new reason for you to put up a wall when I push.”
I hold her gaze.
“That depends on you, too,” I say.
Her brows lift slightly. “How so?”
“If you’re asking whether I’m going to use last night to dodge the work, no. I’m not.” I pause. “But are you going to use last night to push?”
Fire lights in her eyes. It’s immediate and intense. Her fingers tighten around the fork until her knuckles go white.
I immediately want to take my words back.
But she doesn't explode. Instead, she sets the fork down with deliberate slowness, and her response is so quiet, it's more chilling than if she'd shouted it.
"I realize that these are not normal circumstances," she says, her voice chilling me to the bone.
"What with me being kidnapped and all. And I know I crossed professional lines last night.
But I will not have my integrity questioned by the man who drugged and abducted me.
" Her shoulders straighten. "I am here as your hostage, to fix the mess you've made of yourself. That's it."
And with that, she stands up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. The force of it is so final that it feels like she's leaving. For good.
My stomach lurches. I reach out, my fingers brushing her arm. "Teresa—"
She flinches away from my touch as if it burns, her expression closing off completely.
“Now, I know that I’m the one who decided to stay here when given the choice, but let’s not forget the circumstances that brought me here.”
“Teresa, wait,” I say. I push back from the stool and move to block her path, but don’t touch her.
Her eyes narrow slightly, but I look beyond that and beyond the anger. I see the hurt under it, the insult.
“I’m done with this conver—”
“Just a second. You’re right. About all of it.
” I drag a hand over my mouth. “About the circumstances. About the reason I brought you here. I made a mess of myself, and I need your help to fix it. Fix me. I had no right to talk to you like that, to question your integrity. I’m the one who’s fucked up, okay?
Even after last night, I’m still the most fucked up person in the room.
In most rooms. Even with the company I keep. ”
The anger is still there, sharp and bright in her face, but it wavers for a second at that. Not gone. Not even close. Just interrupted.
Her gaze searches mine like she’s trying to decide whether I mean it or whether this is just another diversion.
“I’m not looking for a dramatic self-indictment,” she says finally, her voice still cool. “I’m looking for honesty.”
“That is honesty. Maybe the most honest I’ve ever been.”
Her eyes flick over my face, and I don’t look away.
I keep going before I can lose my nerve.
“I said something ugly because I felt cornered, and instead of dealing with it, I threw it back at you.” My jaw tightens. “That’s on me. Not you.”
Carefully, she says, “Yes. It is.”
Fair enough.
I let out a breath through my nose. “I brought you here to help me. That’s the truth. But I’ve never been any good at accepting help. Hell, it took me this long to accept that I needed it.”
Her shoulders ease a fraction.
Not much. But enough.
I say, quieter now, “And for what it’s worth, I don’t think any less of your professional integrity after last night.”
A flicker moves across her face at that.
Something more guarded than anger now.
“I should hope not,” she says. “Considering you were there too.”
A humorless breath leaves me. “I’m very aware.”
Her arms stay folded, but the rigid line of her body softens just slightly. Not forgiveness. Not even close. Just enough to tell me she’s still listening.
“And for what it’s worth,” she says after a beat, “I’m not claiming spotless professional behavior either.”
My brows pull together. “Teresa—”
“No.” Her voice stays quiet, but there’s steel in it. “I’m not taking the blame for what you said just now. That’s yours. But last night…” She hesitates, then lifts her chin. “Last night was not strategy. It wasn’t manipulation. It wasn’t me trying to gain leverage over you.”
“I know,” I say.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
Because I do. Because some ugly, defensive part of me had wanted to make it into something else for one second there. Something easier to dismiss. Easier to control.
And it wasn’t.
It was messy. Mutual. Complicated.
Dangerous in a completely different way.
She studies me for another second, then says, “Good.”
I don’t move.
Neither does she.
The kitchen is too quiet again, the air-conditioning humming faintly, the morning light stretching brighter across the counters. Her half-eaten breakfast is still sitting on the island between us, and suddenly the whole scene feels absurdly domestic for a conversation like this.
I say, “I’m sorry.”
That gets her attention.
Not because she didn’t hear me the first time. Because I don’t think she expected the plain version.
“I don’t say those words often,” I confess.
“I had a feeling,” she says. “Sorry for what exactly?”
“For…” I stop, jaw tightening, then force the rest out. “For forgetting that none of this started on equal ground.”
I see it in the way her eyes shift, the way something in her expression loosens and sharpens at once.
“So, not for actually kidnapping me?” she says, deadpan.
A laugh slips out. I can’t help it.
“Less today than before.” I can’t control the hint of huskiness in it.
Her eyebrows lift.
“That is an insane thing to say out loud.”
“Probably,” I admit.
The corner of her mouth twitches despite herself.
“I can’t really make myself feel sorry for that one, so I’d be lying,” I say.
“Uh-uh, you don’t get to charm your way out of kidnapping me,” she says.
I bite back a smile. “I wasn’t trying to charm you.”
She shifts her eyes to the garden beyond the window and blows out a long breath.
“What is wrong with me?” she says under her breath.
I can’t help it, I laugh because I know that she’s only saying it because she is charmed, despite herself. She’s charmed by jokes about her getting kidnapped.
Looks like my doctor has a bit of a dark sense of humor herself.
“You’ll be eating those words later,” she snaps at my laugh. “Finish eating and meet me outside for our session.”
She sidesteps me and heads right for the door.
My spine straightens.
“Our session?” I call after her. “Then what was this whole thing?”
“Just the beginning,” she says over her shoulder. “I have some professional integrity to maintain.” Then she steps out onto the deck and lets the door slap sharply behind her.