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“I see.”

Do you?

“You don’t want to be here, do you?” he said.

Time ticked on, and he didn’t fill the silence.

“No,” I muttered eventually, resigned. Why did I feel so hostile toward this man?

“Okay, well, before you go, can I ask you a few questions?”

I shrugged. I was doing this for Dylan, humoring him. This man was a colleague of a colleague. That’s why I was here.

“So, it’s your mother, father, and little brother that you lost recently in a car accident?”

I stared at him, keeping my face devoid of emotion. Why did he ask that? He must know. Was he trying to provoke me?

This time, I let the silence stretch between us.

Two can play that game.

Finally, he said, “That’s more than a significant loss for anyone, especially someone as young as you. Both your parents and your little brother. I’m sorry for your loss. It must be very tough to bear.”

I bit my lower lip in a conscious effort to distract myself from the loss as it swelled and pulsed around the hole in my chest. The white noise, much quieter over the past few days, buzzed in my head.

Is this man trying to upset me?

I stared at him, saying nothing.

“You were in the car when the accident happened. Do you remember it?”

I shook my head. I only remembered waking up in the hospital afterward. I’d tried to remember when I woke, but there was nothing and I’d wondered if my mind was trying to protect me from the memory.

After an age of gazing at each other, he broke the silence. “I see. And now you’re living with Dylan. Someone you’re not technically related to. That must be odd.”

Odd? Odd was too small a word for the extraordinary and tragic events that had led me to be living with Doctor Dyl.

Luke shifted, waiting for a response from me.

When I said nothing, he continued. “He’s barely old enough to be a father himself, and he’s taken you on, a grieving teenage girl. That must take some getting used to, yes?”

Blood thundered against my eardrums, and I thought I might faint.

This was my biggest issue. Well, apart from losing my entire family.

Dylan. Why did he volunteer for this? Why?

“Yes,” I whispered. “I don’t know why he has.” Tears pooled in my eyes and began to crawl down my cheeks. I dashed them away with the back of my hand. “Is this what you do?” I whispered. “Make little girls cry?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Sometimes.” He handed me a box of tissues.

“I don’t need you to make me cry. I’m perfectly capable of doing that myself.” Anger simmered under my skin as I latched on to this injustice. How dare he?

“Tell me about your parents,” he asked, his voice gentle.

“No,” I snapped. I pulled my feet up onto the chair and hugged my knees, trying to contain my anger.

“Did they treat you badly?”