My shoulders loosen a fraction.
“Will he know it’s me?”
“Yes,” Caleb says gently. “But retaliation is strictly prohibited. If he contacts you again, even once, you come straight to me.”
“I will.”
“You did the right thing, bringing this forward.”
The validation hits harder than expected.
“I want to block his number. Will that impact the investigation?”
“Not at all. Do what you need to to feel safe.”
I stand, sturdier than I felt walking in here.
Caleb stands as well, leading me to the door. “If you need schedule adjustments or coverage while this is active, you tell me. No need to explain yourself.”
“Thank you.”
When I step back into the hallway, the hospital noise filters in again—phones, carts, voices, life moving forward whether you’re ready or not.
I pause by the window at the end of the corridor and look at my reflection in the glass.
My eyes are still swollen.
But there’s a smile on my face. For once, I didn’t protect the peace at the cost of my own.
And as I head back toward the elevators my phone buzzes with another unwanted call from Jeremiah.
This time, I don’t flinch. I decline the call and block the number.
CHAPTER
FIFTY-THREE
EMMETT
Not a couch or zen garden in sight. The walls of Harvey Cohen’s office are a pleasant shade of beige, and three mismatched green chairs sit in a loose semicircle, all of them looking comfortable enough. Plants climb toward the light filtering through an arched window.
Other than the missing TV, the therapist’s office looks more like someone’s living room than a place you unpack your damage.
Which I guess is the point—to make you comfortable enough to tell a stranger all your secrets.
I’m not sure it actually works, but I appreciate the effort.
Harvey stands across from me, waiting patiently while I hover in the middle of the room.
“I just sit anywhere?” I glance between the chairs.
“Not anywhere,” he says. “That one’s mine.”
He drops into the oversized dark-green chair and grabs the notebook from the table beside it.
“The notebook tends to freak people out,” he adds. “Most people assume I’m writing down every questionable thing they say.”
“Aren’t you?” I ask flatly.
