21 Sterling Loom—Zach Bryan #2
“From glancing over Mr. Wright’s medical history and personal file, I can see that he’s currently living with you. My job is to ensure you’re equally as supported at this time.”
“I’m not the patient here.”
“We just want to help, Mr. Vale.” He plasters on a smile that would fool a more optimistic man. “May I call you Sterling?”
It takes supreme effort to wrangle my inner snark and give the guy a chance. Regardless of my personal issues with psychotherapists, he’s here to help Fletcher. I can put my shit aside for that.
“Fine,” I grumble.
“Great. My name is Doctor Banks, but Christopher is fine. Shall we have a chat out here? The clinic is so . . . impersonal.”
“Sure. Whatever.”
Following him over to one of those tacky memorial benches placed beneath sad-looking apple trees surrounded by hospital grounds, I keep one eye on the clinic and the other on Mr. Slick.
“You’re Mr. Wright’s roommate?” He folds one leg over the other.
“Yes, he lives with us.”
“Who else is at home?”
“My younger brother, Leo, and our newest roommate, Eden.”
There’s an odd, pregnant pause.
“You all live together?” Christopher reiterates.
“That’s what I just said.”
“Right, of course.” He fiddles with the lanyard around his neck. “In Hawkthorpe, correct?”
“I should really be getting back inside.”
“I’ve been filled in on Fletcher’s recent behaviour,” he continues in a rush. “I’m sure his suicide attempt came as a great shock to you all.”
Hearing those words out loud causes me to recoil.
“It was,” I grind out.
“You know, families of veterans often report high levels of interpersonal conflict. The far-reaching effects of trauma aren’t just limited to military personnel.”
“I’m here for Fletcher. That’s all.”
“And what of this . . . Eden?” He enunciates her name strangely, seeming to trip over the letters. “How is she coping with being the one to find Fletcher in that situation?”
“Eden is managing just fine.”
“I’m sure it was a nasty shock for her too,” he fishes.
Shrugging, I don’t confirm or deny. His snooping is making my skin prickle.
“I will schedule some time to have a one-on-one session with her. Check in, offer some peer support. I’d like Eden to know I’m . . . I mean, the service . . . is here to help.”
“Look, Doc.” I twist to pin him with a stern stare. “We’re a family and we look after each other.”
Tapping his wedding band, the doc nods in understanding. “I see.”
“Now, we’re here for Fletcher today. If any of us need our own support, then we know where you are. Alright?”
“Understood.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to wait inside, then take my family out for a meal once we can get out of here. I figure we’ve earned it. We’ll call the clinic if we need anything else.”
“Please do, Mr. Vale.”
Leaving Doctor Banks on the bench gives me a twisted thrill. I don’t like people snooping into my business, professional or not. Something about that dude and his therapeutic approach doesn’t feel right.
When I look over my shoulder, he’s moved from the bench to follow a few paces behind me but quickly halts. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I don’t return his smile, ducking inside to escape his intense staring.
The crappy waiting area is at least peaceful and sans annoying idiots. I leaf through an old newspaper to pass the time, skipping over the headlines without paying any attention. The rest of the hour passes sluggishly.
“Thank you both for your time.” Eden’s voice floats down the corridor.
Discarding the newspaper to stand up grants me a clear view of their exit. Fletcher’s still holding Eden in a death grip. Hell, I doubt he ever released her hand. Belinda takes them to the end of the corridor, then nods at me in parting.
“Everything okay?” I approach them.
“Took a while to figure out communicating, but it went smoothly.” Eden summons a strained smile. “He did well.”
“Good job, bud.”
“The doc wants to see him once a week for a while. Same time and place.”
“Then we’ll make it happen.”
“He said a speech therapist will be in touch too.”
“That’s great news.” I smile broadly.
Fletcher releases Eden’s hand to scrub his face. He seems weary, but I don’t blame him after an hour of talking. We’ve never got so much as a note out of him since he came home, so whatever magic Eden’s worked can sure as hell continue.
“I thought we could drive into Penrith and find a pub or something.” My gaze roves between them. “Leo’s working until late so we might as well make the most of the afternoon.”
“Are you okay with that, Fletch?” Eden asks.
“We can go home if you’d rather rest,” I add.
Stepping outside, the annoying doctor is long gone. He didn’t stick around to harass Eden, which I’m thankful for. Fletcher seems to consider the offer as he follows us. Going out in public isn’t something we’ve done.
I know he’ll occasionally go jogging when the insomnia gets bad. Though even that’s done at night-time when there’s less chance of running into someone. His tactics are plain as day now I’m paying attention.
Meeting Eden’s eyes, he appears to communicate something to her in a lingering look. I quash the pang of jealousy that arises. I’m thankful he’s opening up to someone, even if I’d very much like to know what they’re deciding.
“I wouldn’t mind a bite to eat,” she admits.
Decision sealed, Fletcher nods at me. Like all he cares about is whether or not she wanted to go. If it wasn’t strangely sweet, it’d be hilarious.
“You guys are creeping me out.” I heave a laugh. “Is this like telekinesis or some shit?”
Fletcher shrugs unrepentantly.
“That’s an unfair advantage, Fletch.”
Eden stretches onto her tiptoes to kiss my bristly cheek. “Would you like to know what I’m thinking all the time?”
“Uh, yes.”
Her lips tease the shell of my ear. “Even when I’m in the shower, stroking myself, dreaming of your mouth between my legs?”
My feet trip on the way back to the truck, causing me to stumble. Fletcher snorts loudly, grabbing my shoulder to steady me.
“Yes,” I growl out. “Very much so.”
“Or you could just come climb in next time and help me wash my back. No telekinesis required.”
“Careful, love. I might just do that.”
“Open invitation.”
Fletcher’s clear-blue ice shards narrow as if to say who has an unfair advantage now? I smirk at the bastard. He gets to have secret chats with our girl. I’m not gonna complain that I get to occupy her shower thoughts.
“That invite extends to you too.” Eden hooks her arm through Fletcher’s to tug him along. “You might have to shove this oaf out of the way to make some room though.”
“No shoving required.” I share a loaded look with him. “We grew up sharing our toys, Eden. It’s no hardship to do the same thing with your hot little body.”
Now she’s the one avoiding a face plant. “I see.”
“Agreed, Fletch?”
His mouth twitches, spreading into a sordid smile. Yeah, the son of a bitch is down to do this my way. I knew he would be.
Game on.