Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

I hurry down the path through the rain, the ferns reaching out and brushing against my jeans, my jacket held above my head in lieu of an umbrella. I'm early for Kincaid's session, but I didn't want to waste any time in talking to him, and I'm eager to get out of the rain.

I first took a quick detour to the maintenance yard. After the snow last night, I had to go and check to see if there was any left on the ground. Of course, with the rain, there's no trace of it.

I'm running across the gravel path when I hear rustling behind me.

I stop, thinking perhaps I'll see Amani again.

But there's no one there. Rain drips from the cedars, splashing on the leaves. And yet, I have that uneasy twinge in the base of my skull, the feeling of being watched.

It's not the first time since I've been here that I've felt eyes on me, eyes that seem to only be found in the trees.

I start hurrying along again, hating that prickle at the back of my neck, and reach the north dorm. Once under the shelter of the overhang, I shake the water off my jacket, then open the door and step inside, still dripping all over the floor.

Wincing at the puddle I'm leaving, I walk slowly down the hall, careful not to slip, when I notice Kincaid's door is open a crack.

I'm about to knock when I hear Everly from inside.

"She's different," Everly says with a heavy sigh.

I gulp, hoping they're not talking about me.

I lean in closer to the door, trying to hear.

"She's better now," Kincaid says.

"You would say that" is Everly's snippy remark.

"She's better," Kincaid repeats, his voice hard. "Her appetite has returned."

Fuck. They are talking about me.

"I bet it has," she comments.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're very obvious about your obsession with her."

Obsession with me?

Hell no, he hasn't been obvious.

But then I think of him standing outside my window.

I think of when I've caught him staring so openly at me.

I think about him following me on my walk.

I know that the two of us share some kind of connection, but I've honestly thought it's all been in my head. So to hear this is…something.

Kincaid is silent for a moment. "It can't be helped," he concedes miserably.

That would sound romantic, but the way he says it makes it sound like some incurable disease, like he's dying.

"Obsession leaves when you stop feeding it," Everly says. "You need to stop feeding it. You need to focus on your own mind for once and rein it in. Focus on your work. Focus on me! I know you, Wes. I know what you're like, your need to fixate and control…the spiral you're about to go down, the writing on the wall…"

"What if she feels something for me?" He says this so quietly I have to strain to pick it up above the hammering of my heart.

"She doesn't," she says matter-of-factly. "She just thinks you're hot. She just wants to sleep with you. Poor thing."

"And if it's more than that?"

"Then you act like a professional," she says sternly. "You're her doctor, for god's sake. You can keep it in your pants, can't you? You need to be there for her as a doctor. Not as a friend, not as anything else. You need that distance, or things will get really fucking messy. It's already fucking messy." She pauses, sighs. "She's just not smart enough."

The fuck?

Her words stab me right in the chest. Suddenly, I have a flashback to grade school where I overheard class hottie Ryan Corrigan telling Vicki Bessey that he hated being next to me in math class because I looked so stupid while I tried to figure out the equations. I struggled through my calculus in college because what he said stayed with me, made me think I was an idiot.

So to hear that from Everly, of all people, after she just called me brilliant, her star fucking pupil, is a real trip.

She's been lying to me.

"She is smart," Kincaid snaps at her. "She's just adjusting. These things take time. She'll prove herself, just not now."

"Well, you're not working hard enough, Dr. Kincaid," she says.

"Neither are you," he says quietly. "The other students?—"

"You leave them to me. They might be useful in time." I hear her walking toward the door. "Patience is key."

I can't be caught here. I quickly turn around and scamper down the hall and into the common room. I stand there, heart in my throat, back against the wall, praying she doesn't follow the trail of water to find me.

Then I hear the door close to the outside.

I exhale heavily, clutching my chest. Jesus.

I take a moment to compose myself. The last thing I want is for Kincaid to think I heard anything. I lightly tap my fingers on my face and neck, trying to calm myself down and stay steady.

When I'm finally ready, I walk back down the hall and knock on Kincaid's door. This time, it's closed.

"Come in," I hear his voice.

I open the door and pop my head inside. Smoke wafts toward me, smelling like sweet tobacco. Kincaid is sitting at his desk and staring at that small white square piece of paper again before he slips it into a drawer. It takes me a moment to realize that it's one of those mini Polaroid photos, like the one he brought for documenting when we went to the beach. A hand-rolled cigarette smokes from an ashtray on the windowsill, where it's been put out.

"Take a seat," he says, and when he meets my eyes, I can see the frustration in them. I would give anything to know exactly what they were talking about. Am I being tested somehow to prove how smart I am, prove I'm good enough to work at the Madrona Foundation? Is this actually more of an internship than anything else? Is that why we're all here?

Fuck that , I think, hating the idea of being tested unknowingly. I'll never work here.

But then there's that part of me that doesn't want to rebel, the part that wants to work here, that craves that recognition and the significance in my life. I'm not sure which one is stronger.

Kincaid and I stare at each other for a moment.

His obsession with me…

Why me?

"You look tired," he finally says.

I bristle at the comment and nod at the dark circles under his own eyes. "So do you, doctor."

He nods, running his hand over his jaw. "Yes. I haven't been sleeping well either. Perhaps it's contagious."

I sit up straighter. "What's contagious?" I frown.

"You're not sleeping well," he says. "I assume you haven't been."

"Well, I haven't had a chance to talk to you," I tell him. "Not since breakfast on the boat."

He inhales sharply. "I'm glad you brought that up." His eyes flick to the wall. "I think that was a mistake."

"Breakfast?" My stomach drops.

"There are boundaries between a doctor and a patient, and I think that I crossed one by inviting you into my private quarters. I'm sorry."

Fuck. He really is putting in the distance now after what Everly said.

"I just thought it was really nice," I tell him quietly. "I felt a little less…alone."

That softens something in his face for a moment before it hardens again.

Please be obsessed with me , I think. Please want me like I want you.

His gaze is unreadable. "Tell me how you've been," he says.

I exhale and sit back in my chair. "You want the truth?"

"I only ever want the truth."

Do you tell me the truth?

"I've been having dreams."

He grabs his pen and his book and starts writing. "What kind of dreams? When did they start?"

"They started pretty much my second night here," I tell him. "They're sex dreams."

He pauses, eyes glued to the paper as he swallows hard. "Oh. Well, that's not cause for alarm."

"They're about you."

He drops the pencil, his jaw tense. "I see." His gaze burns as he meets my eyes. "It would be inappropriate for us to discuss this more."

It sure would be.

"Don't you want to know what we were doing in the dreams?"

He leans back in his chair and covers his face with his hands before dragging them down. He stares up at the ceiling. Then nods, just once.

My heart skips several beats, knowing he's relenting, knowing he wants to hear this, and I take a deep breath. "The first one, you were going down on me in my bed at the lodge. The second one, I was giving you a blowjob here in the office. The third one, you had me on my stomach on the table in your boat, tied up, edging me, punishing me with your belt…"

His eyes fall closed, and he's breathing heavily. I wonder if he's hard. I wonder if he's picturing doing all of that right now.

"Do you want the details of exactly how it felt?"

A muscle in his jaw feathers, and he gives his head a shake.

"I'm not sure what to say," he says after a moment, his voice hoarse. He clears it and sits forward, meeting my eyes. His gaze is unreadable, blank and grey. "But it's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Who said I was ashamed? Those dreams are the best part of going to sleep."

He swallows audibly. "Please don't say things like that."

"Why not? You wanted the truth. That's the truth." I lick my lips, buoyed by a strange courage, by a deep desire. "I want to get on my knees right here and crawl under that desk and?—"

"Stop!" he suddenly yells, getting to his feet, as if I was actually about to do that. His expression is one of both fear and fury. "Don't say another fucking word about this. I am here to help you, Sydney. That is it. That is all I am to you!"

I flinch at his words, my face flaming, immediately feeling stupid. I thought maybe if I pushed him enough, I could see that obsession. I thought maybe I could make him give in. I thought maybe I could see some inkling of feelings for me.

But all I see is a boundary being thrown into place.

It's probably for the best, but I can't sit here and talk to him, not after this.

"I better go," I say, quickly getting out of my chair and running to the door.

"Sydney," he growls, calling after me. "Wait, come back."

I don't come back. I run down the hall, cheeks flaming, careful not to slip on the wet puddles I originally left behind, then run out into the rain.

"Sydney!"

I stop and turn around, surprised to see him running after me, getting soaked.

"Please," he says, reaching out and grabbing my hand, holding it. "I didn't mean to yell. I shouldn't have yelled. I'm sorry."

I try to take my hand from his, but his grip is strong.

His grip is always so strong, perfect for keeping me in place.

"I crossed a line, I get it," I say, feeling helpless, like I'm caught between wanting to go and stay. "I pushed that line on purpose. But I know my place. And I know yours. Doctor ."

He shakes his head, rain streaming over his beautiful face. Fuck me for actually having feelings for my goddamn psychologist.

"I…I…" he begins. Then he raises his head, looks over my shoulder, and abruptly lets go of me. Without another word, he turns around and strides back to the building.

I turn around to see what's caught his eye.

Michael is standing still by the totem pole, an umbrella over his head, staring our way.

He meets my eyes.

So, so cold.

Then he walks off.

I stand there in the rain until I'm drenched from head to toe, then make my way to the main lodge, wondering where I went wrong while knowing exactly why it went wrong.

History is struggling to repeat itself.