“I was excited to see what I would have tomorrow.” I turn toward the waiting room couch, suddenly feeling light-headed and shaky.
Alfie moves toward me immediately.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m going to take care of this. I’ll find out who it is, and I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
I nod in response, and he pulls me against his chest. I can't help but let out a small whimper.
“I want you to go home. Pack whatever you need for tonight and come straight back to my house, okay? Anything you need to study, anything you want. But you’re staying with me.”
I nod again.
“Please say something, love. I need to hear your voice right now.”
“Yes,” I croak, swiping away my tears. “I’ll pack a bag and head straight to yours. I do really need to study tonight though.”
“I know. Scout's honor, I’ll cook you dinner and help you practice questions that will come up in your defense.”
I grab my purse and Alfie’s keys, slipping out without telling him why I came.
???
I jolt awake and I feel Alfie’s soothing hand on my head, stroking my hair. I inhale deeply through my nose, desperately trying to calm my racing heart.
“You’re safe, sweet girl.”
Sweet girl?
I turn to face Alfie, but it’s not him. The face of Carter looms over me, his wide smile I used to find so sincere twisting into something sinister. His thumb reaches out to graze my lip, but I jolt again, for real this time.
I sit up panting. The room is dark, and I check my phone, it’s gone seven. I must have needed that sleep for a few hours.
I can hear Alfie in the kitchen, pots and pans tinkering against each other as he cooks. I rub my eyes. I haven’t dreamed about Carter in so long. I think the stress of moving toward anew chapter in my life has my memories surfacing. I wish I could cut him out completely, but I know he’ll always be a part of me. It’s like a warning; my brain is trying to tell me something I’m not quite understanding yet.
I pad down the stairs, my bare feet scrunching at the cold tiles of the kitchen. Alfie is wearing an apron, his head bent low into a pan, muttering something about oregano. He spins around when he hears me and I let out a loud laugh. His glasses have fogged up from the steam.
“Are you laughing at me, Miss Sinclair?” He pulls them off, rubbing them with the bottom of his T-shirt. He must have changed since he got home, because he’s wearing the sweat pants again. My body hums. Even in my heightened state of concern and stress, my body still reaches for him.
“Only because you look so adorable in this apron.”
“Hmm, I should wear it more often then.” He leans down to kiss my forehead and cup my cheek before I take a look in the pan.
“Spaghetti bolognese?”
“Yep, I thought some comfort food would be good.” His eyes dart between mine before he lets out a deep, weighted sigh.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” I say as I watch his face grimace.
“I feel like I’ve failed you.”
I shake my head. This man puts so much pressure on himself to be perfect.
“You haven’t. Where is this coming from? We know the risks of working with patients. There’s always a risk that they'll grow an attachment. At least it’s me that’s receiving notes and not someone else.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I just mean, at least we’ve got ahead of it. We can work out who’s been leaving them and fix the situation.”
He nods. “I need to tell you something about me. I don’t want to have secrets between us. I…I want you to know this part of me is something I’m trying to work on. I’m trying to be better and move past the things that have happened to me.”
