The Fallout (The Therapist #3) - W.S. Greer Page 0,41
got a call from the Lanes again. They've had a change of plans for the second week in a row. Eli Lane will not be attending therapy this week. They've decided to attend separately again, so only Demi will be there this week. Is that okay with you?”
“Of course,” I say, putting a white shirt on and reaching for a black pair of pants. “Not a problem at all.”
“I thought not. Just wanted to be sure. Okay, see you soon, Dr. Colson.”
“Great. Thanks, Keisha.”
I end the call and step out into the hall, where I still find myself looking around to make sure my fantasy was only a fantasy. Once I’m satisfied no one is here with me, I walk down the stairs and head for the garage, crossing through the kitchen to grab my car keys off the hook. When I reach for them, the keys aren't there.
I freeze. What in the actual fuck is going on? I always put my keys on the hook, but for some reason they're not there. They're on the kitchen counter next to the refrigerator.
Did I put them there? What time did I get home last night? I don't remember putting the keys on the counter, but I don't remember hanging them up either. Shit.
The clock on the stove tells me I have about half an hour before my first patient arrives, and it’s a twenty-minute drive to my office if the traffic isn't insane. I don't have time to stand here and fight my way out of a forest of confusion. I must've placed the keys on the counter when I came home from Dr. Monroe’s office last night. After everything I heard standing outside her door, it makes sense I was thrown off my routine. So, I grab the keys off the counter and hurry out of the house.
22
~ Malcolm ~
“How have you been, Demi?”
Demi Lane looks at me peacefully, her face calm and serene. Where I saw anger before, there's contentment now. She's neither sad nor happy, but in a state of nothingness that comes with what she’s going through. In the beginning, there's a flood of emotions that wrecks the body and mind like the violent waves of an ocean. Once you've risen to the top of those waves and learned to navigate them, there's a phase of calm. You don't know how you feel or what is next. This is the phase where you decide whether your relationship will live or die. Swim or drown.
“I’ve been okay. How are you Dr. Colson?” Demi asks with a half-smile. She’s wearing a pair of black leggings with a loose, baggy T-shirt and her hair down. She looks like she's been relaxing and taking time to think things through, so I expect a productive session today.
“I'm good,” I reply with a smile of my own. “Thanks for asking. How have things been at home?”
Demi crosses her legs and lets her gaze float up to the corner of the room. “Things at home have been … interesting. Eli seems different since he came to see you last week.”
“Does he?” I ask, but it’s rhetorical. “That’s good. It’s good to know he got something out of the session. I think it was an important day for him. Hopefully we can make the most of our session with you today.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“So, how has Eli been different?”
“It’s intriguing,” Demi says. “He seems humbled all of a sudden. Usually he has this pride that wafts off of him like cheap cologne, and no matter what I say, he has a defense ready to go. Now, it’s like he's letting me have space to think about everything instead of trying to force me to think about things through his mindset. It’s like he's waiting for me to decide.”
“I see. And how does that make you feel?”
“I don't know. Most days, I feel so many things it’s hard to pluck out one emotion and define it. I like that he's not bombarding me with apologies, because that always got on my nerves. It’s just different to see him so modest lately. I like that we’re not fighting about it anymore, and I like having space to think things through.”
“Good. I’m glad the solo session with Eli hit home for him,” I say with a nod of my head. I didn't know if Eli had it in him to take my advice, so this is a pleasant surprise.
“Definitely seems like you got through to him,” Demi replies. “What