Page 149 of Letters From A Stalker

He closes his eyes briefly, and when he opens them again, there is nothing left for either of us to say.

I pull the door open and walk out before my body has the chance to betray how close I am to falling apart. Mara looks up the instant I cross reception, concern appearing on her face when she sees mine, but I move past her too quickly for her to ask anything and push through the stairwell door instead of waiting for the elevator.

The concrete steps blur beneath me as I descend, one hand dragging along the cold metal railing while every breath catches painfully in my chest. I need air, distance, anything that gets me farther away from that office before the anger holding me together gives way to everything underneath it.

For months, Kai had been the person I went to whenever my world stopped making sense. Now he is the reason it doesn’t, and I have no idea how the hell I’m supposed to survive losing both men when they were the same person all along.

28

Kai

The stairwell door slams somewhere beyond reception. I hear it even through the open door of my office, followed by silence so abrupt that for several seconds I remain exactly where Julia left me, sitting in the chair across from the one she occupied for months. The office looks exactly the same as it did when she walked into it less than an hour ago. The afternoon light still reaches across the rug in a pale strip beneath the windows, my notepad is on the floor where it slipped from my knee at some point during the conversation, and the bottle of water Mara brought in earlier sits untouched on the small table between the chairs.

Nothing has changed and everything has. I look down at my hands. My cuffs are perfectly buttoned. That almost makes me laugh. Almost. Less than an hour ago I pulled those sleeves down with the ridiculous instinct of a man trying to hide evidence after the person standing in front of him had already seen it. My suit is still perfectly arranged, tie straight, shirt tucked, every fucking piece of me outwardly intact, and yet I have never felt less put together in my life.

The door in front of me moves. I don’t. Mara steps inside without knocking, then closes it carefully rather than leaving it open the way Julia did. For several seconds, she says nothing. I know what she heard. Julia wasn’t exactly whispering by the end, and the distance between my office and Mara’s desk is nowhere near enough to preserve privacy once somebody is standing beside an open door telling her psychiatrist that if he ever comes near her house again, she will report him.

Normally, Mara’s silence irritates me because she uses it with far too much skill for someone who enjoys accusing me of doing the same thing professionally. Today I’m grateful for it. I lean forward and brace my elbows against my knees, pressing both hands over my face.

“What happened?” The question is quiet.

I drag my hands down slowly but still don’t look at her. “I’m really not in the mood for a lecture.”

A pause follows before Mara lets out a breath.

“Oh, I got that part.” Her voice carries none of its usual humor when she adds, “Sounds like you already got one from Julia.”

I close my eyes. Even hearing her name feels like something sharp being pushed beneath my ribs. Mara crosses the room but doesn’t sit in Julia’s chair. Instead, she takes the edge of the couch farther to my left, leaving enough distance that I don’t have to look at her unless I choose to.

“I’ve been watching you for weeks, Kai.”

“I know.”

“I know you know.” There is no accusation in the statement, only tired confirmation. “The way you looked every time she walked out. The rides after her appointments. You disappearing on nights when I knew damn well you had paperwork stacked on your desk.”

My stomach knots tighter.

“I kept hoping I was wrong,” she continues. “Or that if I wasn’t, you would eventually remember that you’re supposed to be smarter than whatever the hell was happening in your head.”

That makes me look at her for the first time since she came in. Mara’s expression is not angry in the way I expected. That might be worse. She looks disappointed and Mara looking disappointed sits right up there with the same types of looks Henry would give me when I would do something that elicited that emotion. It wasn’t often, but I fucking hated it then and I fucking hate it now.

“I didn’t sleep with her because I forgot the rules.” I manage.

Her eyebrows lift. “That is not the defense you think it is.”

“It isn’t a defense at all.” The answer seems to stop whatever she was about to say.

I sit back and stare toward the window, though there is nothing outside that registers beyond vague shapes and afternoon light.

“There isn’t an explanation I can give you that makes it acceptable.”

“Try me anyway.” Mara’s motherly tone? Fucking hate that too.

I rub my thumb against the inside of my palm, feeling the faint indentation where my nails have been pressing without me realizing it.

“The second session with her went badly. We went into her mother, she dissociated, and when she left…” I stop because I can still see Julia through the windshield of her car, eyes fixed on the road while some part of her was nowhere near it. “She looked like my mother.”

Mara’s expression changes immediately, but I shake my head before she can misunderstand.