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I give it another couple of seconds for her to calm, but also for my heartbeat to stabilize. When I’m sure my heart is no longer in danger of stopping, I stand, bringing her with me. I lock my arms around her, holding her tightly, not only for comfort, but also in case she gets it into her head to run again. I let her soak up the hug before pulling away to look down at her tear-stricken face.
“We’re going to see a doctor,” I say gently.
At the word doctor, her face contorts with fear again.
“Listen to me, Lina.”
My authoritative tone has the desired effect. Her gaze locks onto mine. She waits and listens.
“We’re going to see a psychiatrist. He’s going to chat to you, make sure you’re fine, and that’s it. Nothing else. All right?”
“I don’t need a psychiatrist.”
“Your medical report says you’re supposed to be on medication.” Anti-depressants and appetite stimulants. More accurately, after seeing her scars, I want to be sure she’s stable enough not to harm herself.
“I don’t want pills.”
“Your health is my responsibility. We’re just going to talk to the doctor.” I don’t wait for her consent. “Relax.”
Not an easy task, given what has just happened, but she tries, drawing in a few deep breaths.
“That’s it. You’re doing good.”
Sure that her body is slacker and not wired for another sprint, I release my death grip to check for damage from the fall. I push up her sleeves. Her arms sport nasty tar burns. Gravel is lodged in her elbow where the fabric has torn. Going down on one knee, I roll up the jeans and find scrapes on her shins and knees. At least nothing is broken.
“We have to disinfect these.”
I fold my fingers around hers and lead her to the traffic light. When it changes, we cross at the crossing. I feel her reluctance in the weight of her body. I’m almost pulling her to the building. She digs in her heels at the door, but after I give her another stern look and repeat my promise not to leave her, she follows me inside with a bowed head and slumped shoulders. As we climb the stairs to Reyno’s office, she grows smaller. It’s only in front of his door that she picks her fighting spirit up from the floor.
“Damian, please. May I have a moment?”
“Yes.” I smooth down her hair. “Of course.”
She rummages through her bag and pulls out a tissue. Wiping mascara from under her eyes, she makes the most endearing creature I’ve seen.
“Ready?” I ask when she’s blown her nose and cleaned her hands with a disinfectant wipe she fished from her bag.
She doesn’t answer, probably knowing a reply is redundant.
Reyno has a shady reputation and the fees to go with it. There’s no waiting room or receptionist. It’s more discreet.
I knock and enter, dragging Lina behind me.
A small man gets up from behind his desk. He’s not much taller than Lina. With his over-sized, round-rimmed glasses and ash-colored hair, he looks like a character from a fantasy comic book. He greets us by surname but doesn’t offer a handshake or comment on the fact that we’re fifteen minutes late.
“I’m going to call you Lina,” he says, cutting straight through formalities. “I’m Reyno.” He indicates a chair facing a coffee table. “Please, have a seat. You can pick her up in an hour, Damian.”
She jerks her head toward me.
I give her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m staying.”
Reyno tilts his head. “I’m not sure that’ll be constructive.”
“She doesn’t want to stay alone.”
He looks at her. “Is this true?”
She gives a small nod.
“In that case, take the sofa.”
I push Lina down with a hand on her shoulder, not aggressively but firmly. What she needs right now is a strong hand, someone to take charge until she feels like herself again.
“Do you have a first-aid kit?” I ask the doctor.
He glances at her elbows and below the rolled-up jeans. “What happened?”
I look at Lina to see if she wants to answer.
“I tried to run away,” she says. “I didn’t want to see you.”
He rubs his chin. “Why?”
“I don’t like being—” She bites her lip.
“Being what?” he prompts.
“Being drugged,” she replies.
I get the feeling she was going to say something else.
“Mm. Let’s see about that first-aid kit.”
Reyno disappears into an en suite bathroom and returns with a kit he hands me. Sitting down next to Lina, I start cleaning her bleeding elbows while Reyno takes the seat opposite us.
He presses his hands together. “Why don’t we start with how you feel?”
Hurting, from the way she clenches her jaw as I scrape the gravel from her skin with a pair of tweezers. My girl keeps perfectly still without complaining.
“Lina?” Reyno says. “Did you hear me?”
She hisses as the disinfectant makes contact with her broken skin. “How I feel is a rather broad question.”
