said anything predictable so far. It was . . . disconcerting and . . . interesting. She reminded her of Brooke in that way.
“Sit down. Please.”
Sarah stilled. “Really?”
“Really. I have this half hour blocked out for you. We might as well put it to good use.”
“Oh, I see,” Sarah said, deflating. “You think I’m just saying that because I’m being a chicken and trying to get out of the session. But that’s not the case.”
“Sarah, sit. Please.”
Great. In trying to right her wrong, she’d just convinced the woman she was lying. About being suicidal anyway.
Sarah sat.
“If, as you say, you’re not thinking of harming yourself,” Mel said, “why did you want to see me so desperately?”
Sarah wanted to blurt out questions about Dustin but bit her lip and sighed, trying to figure out the best way to approach the subject. “Okay, so here’s the deal. I’m having some . . . issues . . . and I don’t know how to make them stop.”
“All right. Tell me about these issues.”
“Nightmares. And . . . other things. My past won’t stay buried. It keeps popping up to remind me that I’m not . . . good enough.”
“What are the nightmares about?”
Sarah paused. Focused. “Several incidents that happened while I was in Kabul. And . . . about my brother’s death. Mostly about him.”
“I see. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Sarah swallowed. Dr. McCandless sounded like she meant it. “Thank you. But I just keep . . .”
“Keep what?”
She could do this. It was all part of finding out what happened to Dustin. She was pretending, right? Then why did it feel so real? Because she wasn’t lying about the nightmares—or the past. “I keep seeing him. I see him jump off the building and I see him land. And I see what happens when he lands.” She choked. Gagged.
The doctor jumped up and grabbed a bottle of water from her refrigerator. Sarah took it and drank half of it, her heart pounding. Why was she doing this?
“Just breathe a moment,” Dr. McCandless said. “Take a minute.”
“Sorry. Thank you.” Sarah met her gaze. “My brother was Dustin Denning.”
The doctor flinched and deep sadness filled her eyes. “I noticed the last name and wondered if there was a connection there. I’m so sorry.”
“I know he talked to you. He said you helped him.”
“Not enough apparently.” Dr. McCandless rose and rubbed her palms down her black slacks. “I was absolutely stunned to hear of his death.”
“Yeah, that makes two of us.” She paused. “Was he like this? Did he have nightmares and feel helpless to do anything about them?”
“Sarah, I can’t—”
“Please. I’m on his HIPAA paperwork. You can tell me about him. I think it would really help settle some things in my mind if I could just understand what he was thinking, feeling . . . please.”
The doctor took a deep breath and clasped her hands. “Dustin had a good many problems, as you know, but honestly, I thought he was doing better. That we were making some breakthroughs. That’s why his suicide floored me.”
Exactly what Caden had seen. “Dr. McCandless?”
“Please, call me Mel.”
“All right, Mel, I’m not suicidal, I promise. I admit, I probably have some . . . um . . . PTSD issues”—man, that was hard to say—“but I’ve no desire to die.”
“I’m starting to believe you.”
Heat swept into Sarah’s cheeks and she looked away. “I’ve had some pretty down moments over the last few weeks, I’ll admit that as well.” Her father’s betrayal came to mind, and she curled her fingers into tight fists. “And when I tried to get in just to talk to you—to ask you about Dustin—I was shut down faster than I could blink. But, yes, I wanted to ask about Dustin as well.”
“As well?”
Shame burned a path up Sarah’s neck and into her cheeks. She cleared her throat. Tears gathered and she sniffed. “The nightmares are real,” she whispered. “I only fall asleep when I can’t stay awake any longer or I’m drugged up.” She held up a hand. “Prescription drugs that I haven’t taken in a couple of days. The last thing I need is an addiction.”
The doctor’s hand covered hers. “I’ll work you in if you want to be a patient. For real.”
Sarah gave a slow nod, then shook her head. “I don’t know. I want the nightmares to stop, but I won’t take medicine, and I know that’s the route you’ll probably want to go.”
“Meds can be a last resort. Sometimes