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My insides burn, vindictiveness eclipsing my vision. “What a sick fucking bastard.”
“Yes, he is.” Theo guides my hands to my belly, leaving them there.
He skims gentle, caring fingers on my chest, soothing me instead of vice versa.
“I confronted him the second Ms. Chapman went home. I did what I never dared to dream of—stormed into his office, roared, slammed my hands on his desk, demanded answers. I was driven by madness, too furious to remember to record his confession. Not that he did.” Theo’s breaths are strained before he says, “He lied. Said they asked for it, that he always gets the kinkiest ones.”
Bile rises in my throat, and I swallow and swallow to keep it down.
“What did you do?”
A part of me wishes he punched the sick doctor. Another part of me, the logical one, knows doing so would’ve ended his career, and he’d have been charged with assaulting the bastard.
“What happened to the director?” I can’t remember his name, I’m so mad.
“Practically nothing, and I hate myself for it. Hitting him would’ve accomplished nothing other than ruining my life,” Theo says what I imagined he would. “So I didn’t do a damn thing.”
I’m not disappointed in him. He, on the other hand, a decade later, is powerless against hating himself for it.
“The next day, I rounded up the three women and asked them to meet me in my apartment.” Theo’s eyes are torn as he nears the end of his story. “I laid out their options for them. They could choose to file a complaint with the hospital’s administrators or with the police or both. I made sure they knew I’d be there every step of the way to back them up.”
Then his lips curve in a smile. A heart-wrenching, soul-quenching smile.
“Without solid evidence, they decided the hospital’s administrators would be their best shot. That even if he didn’t go to jail, at least his name would be tarnished, and he wouldn’t be able to hurt other women.” He sighs, and it’s a long and tormented one. “The hospital swore they’d investigate it, thanked them for their time, and we parted ways. Eventually, what they did was believe Jason’s denial and his attack on my character. He convinced them I rallied those women and put words in their mouths, so he’d get fired and I’d climb the ranks.”
“Theo.” I lean in to kiss him, and he lets me. Mostly, I guess, because I’m crying. “I’m so sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for. Not for me, anyway. Being fired and driven to finish my residency in another hospital is nothing. Opening a new clinic in another state, that doesn’t compare to what those women went through. And besides…”
He presses his lips, his speech trailing off.
“Besides what?”
“It’s going to come off as morbid and disgusting, but here’s the honest truth, Prue. I was relieved my mother passed away when I was twenty-two, and my father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s before any of it happened. None of them knew about me being let go. My dad struggled with the new home I moved him into, but other than that, nothing.”
He says there’s nothing to feel sorry for. He’s strong and resilient. A powerhouse of a man. And still, all of this—so much of it—it’s a lot for any human to carry by themselves.
Theo’s been doing it for the past ten years. At what cost, though?
At least he talked to someone. I’m sure a bunch of people knew the cold facts. Yet when I look into his eyes, I’m sure no one knows the depths of his agony, the remorse. He shares those feelings with me, and I’ll gladly be his outlet, whenever he needs me.
“Anyway, yeah. It wasn’t a big deal.” He finds a space to care for me, wiping my tears, pressing his lips to my eyes. “The women and the two others who approached me the week after were broken again when no one believed them. They were deflated and didn’t want to go to the Seattle police department to endure the same humiliation.”
“So that was that?”
“Yes, unfortunately. I didn’t want to force them, pressure them into something they weren’t ready to do. And you have to remember, there was no social media back then or the #MeToo movement. Our sad situation was what it was. He tried to taint my name once he got word of my clinic in San Francisco, whispering to doctors in the area how I was at the bottom of the residency program, that the only reason for his good—past—evaluation was because he felt sorry for me.”
“You could’ve sued him!” I practically shout. “He would have deserved it, too.”
“Not worth it. I had my patients, and they never bought his shit.”
“You were happy there, then.”
His lips twitch, his fingers caressing my hair. “I had my peace, yes.”
“Then why did you move here?” I realize how insensitive my question is and rush to correct myself. “Not that I’m complaining.”
Theo offers me a look saying he knows. “He opened a clinic in San Francisco. I took it as my cue for the fresh start I’d been considering for a while. I needed the change in scenery and…it brought me to you. Objectively speaking, I should thank him.”
