Page 45 of The Doctor

Their conversation veered off to more mundane things, and my attention faltered. I dragged my gaze to the hallway and my previous destination. On silent feet, I crept away, rushing into their bedroom and tearing open Mother’s sock drawer. I shook out a half-dozen alprazolam into my palm, then tucked the bottle back where I’d found it.

Before I left, I stopped before the fireplace, my eyes on the candlestick and its hidden prize.

After being away from Zee for so long, I was sure the sertraline could help. Just a few, that’s all I’d take.

Mother would never know.

16

Zeno

Wrenching the top buttons of my shirt open, I slumped onto the sofa in my small living room. I held my phone to my ear and let out an exhausted huff. “Has Santini shown up for all his appointments this week?”

The meek voice on the other end shook. “Yes. He did. And before you ask, there were no problems.”

I would have laughed if I had the energy. The woman on the phone was a strange mix of strength and fear, and I liked her for it.

Too bad she was terrified of me.

Too bad I couldn’t muster the energy to care.

I hadn’t been sleeping well. Clara came by every weekday, just like she always had before. But now, she was slipping in and out during times when I was too busy to do much more than see her feet disappear as she walked out the front door.

Before, I thought I wanted her out of my hair. Out of my house. Not popping up when I least expected it and making my life difficult to maneuver.

Now, I just wanted to see more than her high heels or the swish of her pretty blonde hair as she left. Feeling her smooth skin against my fingertips and tasting the air she breathed had become a desire I was struggling to control.

“And his exercises?” I questioned, forcing myself to focus on the physical therapist on the other end of the line. “Has he been doing them?”

Her quiet sigh left me wondering if what she was going to say would be the truth. “He does,” she said, drawing the word out like she didn’t believe it herself. “I help him in the office, and he tells me he’s doing them at home. But he’s not getting better as quickly as I hoped.”

Somewhere in my house, the floor creaked. And fuck if I could give two shits about Santini and his doctor after that. “Right. Well. He’s stubborn as hell. Just keep on him and he’ll figure it out.”

Another creak, and I caught sight of the toe of Clara’s shoe as she came down the stairs.

“Look, doc, I gotta run. Talk later.” I didn’t give her the chance to respond. Already pushing my tired body off the sofa, I hung up and tossed my cell on my vacated cushion.

Clara was reaching for the doorknob as I stepped into the front hall, and had I not had my shoes on, I probably would have slammed into her in my haste to get to her side. “Clara!”

She jerked at the loud crack of my voice, and more so at the harsh grip I took on her arm. But I couldn’t not. I hadn’t seen her in too long and the desire to touch her couldn’t be quelled.

“What’s wrong?” Doe eyes peered back at me, and I wanted to reach out and touch her face, to prove to myself that she was here. That she was real.

But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t touch her the way I was dying to. Not like that.

Could I?

“Where are you going?”

Her gaze tore a path down my body before her attention snapped to my face. She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Home.”

Hurt bubbled up inside of me. Clara had always confided in me, and her one-word answer felt worse than a lie.

“I haven’t seen you in weeks—”

“We’ve both been busy.”