Gideon looked at him. “Sometimes. There are times when she holds back. But I can get her there. She wants me to get her there, needs it like I do. I have to push. Carefully. With control. When I don’t have the control, I need to back off.”
“How do you push?” Dr. Petersen asked quietly.
“I have my ways.”
Dr. Petersen turned his attention to me. “Has Gideon ever gone too far?”
I shook my head.
“Do you ever worry that he might?”
“No.”
His gaze was soft and capped with a frown. “You should, Eva. You both should.”
—
I was stirring vegetables and cubed chicken into a curry mix on the stove when I heard the front door opening. Curious, I waited to see who came into view, hoping Cary had come home alone.
“Smells good,” he said, walking up to the breakfast bar to watch me. He looked cool and casual in an oversized white V-neck T-shirt and khaki shorts. Sunglasses hung off his collar and wide brown leather cuffs hugged each forearm, hiding the threadlike cuts I’d spotted the night before.
“Got enough for me?” he asked.
“Just you?”
He smiled his cocky smile, but I saw the tightness around his mouth. “Yep.”
“Then I’ve got enough, if you pour the wine.”
“You got yourself a deal.”
Joining me in the kitchen, he looked over my shoulder and into the pot. “White or red?”
“It’s chicken.”
“White it is, then. Where’s Cross?”
I watched him head to the wine fridge. “With his trainer, working out. How was your day?”
He shrugged. “Same shit as always.”
“Cary.” I lowered the heat and turned to him. “Just a few weeks ago, you were so happy to be here in New York and getting jobs. Now . . . you’re so unhappy.”
Pulling a bottle out, he shrugged again. “That’s what I get for f**king around.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you.”
He glanced at me as he dug out the bottle opener. “But . . . ?”
I shook my head. “No buts. I’m sorry. I will say that you’ve had company most nights I’m home, so I figured that’s why we weren’t talking as much, but that doesn’t excuse me from not reaching out when I know you’re going through a difficult time.”
Cary sighed, his head bowing. “It wasn’t fair to dump everything on you last night. I know Cross has got his own shit to wade through and you’re dealing with that.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m not here for you.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “Anytime you need me, just let me know and I’ll be there.”
Turning abruptly, he caught me up in a powerful hug, squeezing the air out of me. Sympathy did the rest of the work, squeezing my heart.
I hugged him in return, one hand stroking the back of his head. His dark brown hair was as soft as silk, his shoulders as hard as granite. I guessed they’d have to be to hold up the weight of the stress he was carrying. Guilt made me hold him even tighter.