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Dr. Suri went ramrod straight, her demure height seeming to grow two feet. “Dr. Rush, has Dr. West been putting you in an uncomfortable situation? This institute does not tolerate any form of sexual harassment and—”
Marin put her hands up. “No. God, no. It’s nothing like that,” she said in a rush. “I—Donovan—well, we used to have a relationship. In college. And—”
“Weren’t you a freshman when he was a graduate student?” Elle asked, all innocence and faux shock.
Dr. Suri’s expression switched to full-out appalled.
“Wait, no, that’s not what it was like. And—”
Dr. Suri cut her off with a lifted palm. “Dr. Rush, we’ll talk about this separately. You shouldn’t have to feel pressured by your trainer to do . . . anything.”
“I don’t! I’m a grown woman, we’re—”
“Dr. West,” Suri said, her tone like a hacksaw. “In my office. Now. I’m not going to discuss this here.”
He didn’t react, didn’t show the devastation crashing through him. He knew where this would go. This job—it once meant everything. It was his life. But losing his job would be the least of it now. He’d never forgive himself if Marin lost her spot, too. “Of course.”
Elle’s eyes burned into him from behind Suri’s back. Checkmate. That’s what this was. But she didn’t seem triumphant about it anymore. Her expression had shifted into what almost looked like regret. Like maybe she’d just realized how far she’d taken this.
It didn’t fucking matter. Elle had fired the shot, but this was his fault. He’d promised Marin he wouldn’t risk her. She’d trusted him and he’d let her down. He’d ruined everything because he had no goddamned self-control.
Marin stared at him like she was going to protest more, throw herself on a sword or something, but he gave a little headshake. This was not her fight.
He’d broken his word. This is what happened to the things he touched. His shrapnel had flown her way, drawn blood, damaged things. But he wouldn’t let this hurt her any further. The best way to keep safe from shrapnel was to remove the bomb.
He walked past her without saying another word.
30
Marin paced Donovan’s living room. She’d let herself in with the key he hid outside for her, and she’d been wearing a track in his wood floors since. She’d tried to text him, but apparently, he was still in with Suri because she hadn’t heard a word. And this was taking way too long for it not to be bad.
Everything looked so awful from the outside looking in. He was her trainer. She was younger. They’d been at work, embraced, almost kissing right after a client had left. God, they’d been so stupid. But when he’d looked at her the way he had today, all logic had gone out the window. She’d felt like he was going to tell her something important. Like maybe things had changed for him, too. Like maybe this experiment was turning into so much more than that.
But then everything had blown up in their faces like an atom bomb. One second—great. The next—annihilation. Fucking Elle McCray. She’d apparently been biding her time and waiting for an opportunity to catch them off guard. She spent a lot of time stopping by the X-wing, presumably to consult about clients they shared, but Ysabel had commented that it was odd she was over there so much. And many times it’d been with Suri. But all it’d been was surveillance. She’d been setting this up all along, hoping to catch them. She’d probably seen Lawrence leave and then realized she and Donovan had never come out.
Marin squeezed her temples, a headache pounding behind her eyes. She wo
uld not cry. Would. Not. They would fix this. She couldn’t lose this job. Donovan couldn’t lose his. But shit, she couldn’t see Suri letting them work together so closely anymore. She probably thought they were getting it on in between sessions or something. God.
The stabbing sensation in Marin’s head increased and little dots of light danced in her vision. No, not now. She took a detour from her pacing and went to Donovan’s room. She needed something for her head or it was going to turn into a full-blown migraine. She couldn’t be laid up in bed with a migraine while all of this was going on.
She made her way to his bathroom and opened his medicine cabinet. His razor was in there along with a number of bottles. Some over-the-counter, some prescription. She skimmed over the orange ones, looking for ibuprofen or aspirin, but then her attention got hung up on one of the prescription labels. The drug name all too familiar. Not just from work but because it was one her mom had been on at some point. An antidepressant.
She stared, a record scratch sounding in her head, and picked up the bottle, hoping the name would morph into something different. The name of an antibiotic or allergy medication. But no, there it was. Donovan was taking antidepressants. And right next to that bottle were prescription sleeping pills and an antianxiety med.
She swallowed hard. It shouldn’t bother her. Hell, she shouldn’t even be seeing it. This was his private space. His own business. These medicines helped people. If he needed that kind of help, she should be glad he was getting it. Her mom’s disorder had claimed her life because she hadn’t received the right medications or treatment that could’ve stabilized her. This didn’t have to be a big deal. But Marin couldn’t help her heartbeat from ticking up.
Donovan was depressed? It was hard to wrap her head around. The guy she knew had so much light in him. That smile of his was like a freaking sunrise. But even as she had the thought, she knew that wasn’t the whole story. She’d only let herself read part of those pages. There were times, quiet moments, when she’d seen glimpses of the darkness, too, the sadness. It’d been there from the start. From the very first week she’d met him when she’d found him drinking and lost to grief. She’d ignored it, edited out those parts.
Her hand went sweaty against the bottle.
“You need something, Marin?”
Marin jumped and the pill bottle went tumbling to the floor. She spun around, finding Donovan looking completely blank. Not mad. Not upset. Just nothing. He reached down and picked up the bottle from the floor.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry. I had a headache and—”
He stepped past her and set the prescription on the shelf and then grabbed another bottle. He tossed it to her. Aspirin.
