Chapter Twenty-Two #2
A kernel of guilt lodges itself in my throat.
After my conversation with Lana, I wanted to try and speak to Alfie about how I feel.
I still want that, and now that he’s helped me understand him better, it’s only reinforced that he’s nothing like Carter.
He’s caring so much, he’s spreading himself so thin to keep everyone safe.
He bends his head down to rest on my shoulder, and I continue to rub his back.
“My father found out what happened. And he took me to one side and told me this is what happens when I play games with people’s lives.
He told me to cut the girl loose like he should have done my mother.
He told me to give one hundred percent to the patients.
” He steps away, stirring the sauce again before draining the pasta and preparing the plates.
“Your father is a great psychologist, Alfie. There’s no doubt about it. But you’re a great man. You can have both worlds if you choose them. Life is not black and white. You can be a good psychologist and a good partner.”
“I know. The way I feel for you, Mia, it’s not like anything I’ve ever experienced.
It’s like we’re working together as a team.
We’re not fighting against each other all the time.
I had no idea I could have a relationship like this.
I assumed I would only be capable of what my father did.
And he wasn’t a good husband or father.”
“Alfie, I’ve never once thought that you didn’t give a hundred percent to your patients. But even if you have an off day, that’s okay.”
He nods, breathing deeply through his nose, his eyes closed, just for a moment.
“With that being said, there is something you should know. It’s about Nate.”
My heart thuds against my chest like it’s trying to break out. Like I’ve run a marathon. Because even though I don’t know exactly what he’s about to tell me, I know it pertains to me.
“Nate had made some comments about you over the last few weeks. It concerned me, but not enough to think he would act on it.”
His admission has my stomach bottoming out. He hadn’t told me something that had concerned me. He thinks he knows better than me. He thinks he can control my life and keep me in the dark about things.
No.
That’s not what’s happening here. Alfie is kind and considerate and cares about me deeply. If he had thought there was a genuine threat, he would have told me. He did tell me. Today, he told me about the notes.
“I’m so sorry. I should have told you sooner,” he winces.
I take a steadying breath, letting what I know about Alfie wash over me before I respond. I’m not happy that he kept this from me, but I can’t really expect him to tell me everything patients say. “You did what you thought was best for your patient, Alfie. I can’t fault you for that.”
We’re silent for a moment, what was previously the comforting smell of bolognese, curdles in my lungs, my stomach threatening to revolt in protest. I push down the nausea, calculating who could have left them if not for Alfie.
If I receive the notes on Thursday, it would have to be someone who comes in on a Wednesday and leaves them in my drawer whilst I’m teaching classes.
The logical person is Nate, given that I have usually left by the time he finishes his session.
Also, I’ve never met the other Wednesday afternoon patients, so it wouldn’t make sense to be one of them.
“You think Nate is the one leaving the notes? That’s why you’re telling me about his comments now,” I say. It’s not really a question but Alfie answers first with his downturned smile and the lines between his brows, then finally with his words.
“It’s the only person who makes sense.”
“I agree.”
His fingers slip through my hair, holding onto me as he stirs the bolognese.
“What a mess.”
“I should have been paying closer attention. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you,” he murmurs.
His pained expression makes me feel uneasy.
Whatever Alfie decides to do about Nate, he’ll need to talk to me about it.
I know this, but I’m not sure Alfie does.
He’s made sure he hasn’t had to answer to anyone for most of his career.
When I think back to my interactions with Nate, I always see Alfie.
Alfie standing at the doorway, ushering him out the door, asking me to join him in his office.
He was looking out for me. Whether he told me or not.
I pull him in for a tight hug, nuzzling my nose into his neck. “I trust you, and I trust your judgment. But I’m not sure I trust that you haven’t burned this bolognese.”
“Fuck.” He turns the gas stove off, rolling his eyes at me.
We sit and eat what is a slightly charred spaghetti bolognese, but still tasty. Once we’ve cleaned up, we do as Alfie promised. We run through practice questions for my dissertation defense.
◆◆◆
“You once told me you wanted to learn how to skate.”
“I don’t remember this conversation.” The harsh air conditioning stings my face as the heavy buzz of a generator vibrates through the cold air. It’s early. Alfie had woken me at five this morning, helping me pull on some leggings and then a navy blue sweater over my head.
Now that we’re here, he’s lacing up my boots for me, a small smirk playing on his face as he kneels before me.
Once I’m ready, he skillfully fastens his own, before edging out onto the freshly resurfaced ice. It glints under the fluorescent lights, and Alfie holds out his hand, beckoning me to follow. I grip the top of the wall, and he chuckles.
“Give me your hands, love. I’ll look after you.”
Like that’s going to help keep me calm. Now I just want to jump on him like a trampoline.
There’s no one around; it’s just us skating, although I did see the Zamboni driver pottering around the edges, but he didn’t seem to be paying us any attention.
“If I fall on my ass, I’ll crawl over to you and chop you at your knees, Adams.”
He laughs. “I can’t promise you won’t fall, but I can promise you won’t be able to catch me if you do.”
“What if I fall and you skate right over my fingers?” Have I always had this irrational fear, or has this popped up today?
One eyebrow arches up as a small smile plays at his mouth. “I’m not going to risk your fingers, Mia. I know exactly what you can do with them.”
I blush, the cold air contrasting against my flushed cheeks. “You’ll certainly need to hire someone else to type up your notes.”
“What a disaster that would be,” he retorts dryly.
I allow him to lead me away from the wall, despite gripping his hands the way I would if I were giving birth.
But he doesn’t complain. Just smoothly sways his hips in a slalom, dragging me along the smooth surface.
I thought it would be bumpy, causing me to trip, but being here before anyone else has its perks.
It’s like gliding along a layer of icing.
“I don’t know why I ever thought I’d want to be a figure skater,” I mutter.
“So you do remember?” His laugh echoes over the ice as I steady myself against the wall again.
“They’re just so graceful. I don’t know how they make it look so easy.”
“Try and move your feet a little. Just glide along, lifting one foot at a time. I’ll keep holding you.”
I try what he says and nearly lose my balance, but his strong arms hold me upright.
“I come here to de-stress. We used to skate a lot as kids. Teddy obviously found his calling. He liked the roughness of ice hockey that was mixed in with the skill. It was a way to get out his aggression safely. But for me, I always felt peaceful on the ice. Even when I’m speed skating as fast as I can, there’s nothing like it. It clears my head completely.”
I know he’s sharing as a way to distract me from what happened yesterday. I love that he wanted to share how he relieves his stress so it might help me too. His eyes glimmer with mischief so unlike him that I start to feel nervous.
“What are you up to? You better not let me go,” I warn. He smirks but keeps his fingers gripped around my arms.
“Why is your dissertation important?”
My dissertation?
I lift my head and my body throws off-balance. Alfie’s grip tightens, his hips swaying as he skates backwards, giving me an encouraging nod.
“I…well it’s important because, well… people that re-offend often don’t have access…fuck.” My blade scrapes along the ice and my fingers plunge into Alfie’s forearms.
“Interesting point, Miss Sinclair. Would you care to elaborate?”
“What is the point of this, Alfie? I can’t hold my body upright let alone think about my dissertation.”
“Well you’d better learn how to hold yourself upright then, won’t you? Then you’ll have one less thing to think about when you tell me why your dissertation is so important.”
Fucker.
He’s so…annoying.
His eyebrow quirks up as I suck in my cheeks, biting down the irritation of nearly falling on my ass, again.
“Could I just hold onto the side?”
“Nope.”
“What about-”
“Answer the question, Mia. Why is it important? It doesn’t have to be a long answer, just give me your answer.”
I huff, bracing myself as we begin to turn again, the cold air prickling against my cheeks.
“It’s important because this could change the way we approach offender rehabilitation.
At the moment our prison system is primarily focused on punishment rather than rehabilitation.
It’s a business, privately owned with shareholders, those who are looking to turn a profit.
There is no incentive for them to rehabilitate.
They want people in prison. But if we look at things from a community aspect, we’ll see that for a lot of non-violent offenders, rehabilitation is incredibly successful.
” I take another breath and squeal as we turn the corner that I barely noticed us approaching.
Alfie’s face breaks out into an all-out grin as he nods for me to keep going.
“Other other countries have seen tremendous results, such as Norway. They focus on community and encourage the inmates to be responsible for themselves and others. Building trust within the prison staff and the inmates. If we could replicate that here, including the therapy, it could not only change lives, it could change the entire country.”
Alfie twists his foot, the blade scraping against the ice and we come to a stop, right in the middle of the ice. I wobble, my center of balance off-kilter in these damn skates.
“You’re fucking amazing,” he whispers, his eyes sparkling with something akin to pure unadulterated pride.
I’m still freaking out about the notes that Nate left me. I’m still freaking out about being dragged around on metal knives by my boss who’s brother literally plays for the NHL. But Alfie is proving to me that he’s going to keep showing up for me. Maybe, just maybe, I can let him.