“Well, hello,” I gestured to the chair across from my desk. “How are you feeling today?”
Edward sat down, leaning back comfortably. “Better. Much better, actually. We closed a big deal yesterday.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said. “Tell me about it.”
His face lit up as he described the business deal–something about merging with a smaller tech company. I didn’t understand
all the details, but his excitement was contagious.
“The board was impressed,” he finished. “First time since… well, since the accident… that I’ve felt like myself in that room.”
“That’s a big win,” I said. “You should be proud.”
“I am,” he nodded. “And I have you to thank for it.”
I shook my head. “No, you did all the work. I just listened.”
Tull
Edward leaned forward, his eyes holding mine a bit longer than necessary. “You did more than listen. You understood. That
makes all the difference.”
There was something in his gaze that made me slightly uncomfortable–a warmth, an interest that went beyond the
professional. I cleared my throat and looked down at his file.
“So, what would you like to talk about today?” I asked, steering us back to safer ground.
Edward didn’t look away. “Can I ask you something personal, Janet?”
A warning bell rang in my head, but I nodded cautiously. “You can ask. I may not answer.”
He smiled at that. “Fair enough. How do you see me?”
“See you?” I repeated, confused.
“If I were to date someone like you,” he clarified, “do you think she would be happy with someone like me?”
The question caught me off guard. Was he… flirting with me?
“I think,” I said carefully, “that’s not something I can answer as your counselor.”
“What about as a woman?” he pressed, still smiling. “A beautiful, intelligent woman who must have plenty of experience with
relationships.”
I felt my cheeks warm. “Edward, I think you’re making good progress. You’re smart, successful, and clearly caring. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life.” I paused, choosing my next words carefully. “But I don’t think it’s helpful to focus on dating right now.”
He nodded, but the smile didn’t leave his face. “You’re probably right. Still, I can’t help but wonder… what kind of man does catch your eye, Janet?”
Now I was sure he was flirting. I needed to redirect this conversation quickly.
“Let’s focus on you today,” I said firmly. “Tell me more about how you’re handling things at home. Are you sleeping better?”
Edward seemed to get the message, though he looked a little disappointed. “Yes, much better. The nightmares are less frequent now.”
We spent the rest of the session talking about his progress, his grief over his mother and grandmother, and his plans for the future. Every now and then, he would slip in a compliment or a personal question, but I gently steered us back to his healing journey each time.
As our session ended, Edward stood and extended his hand. When I took it, he held on slightly longer than necessary.
“Thank you, Janet,” he said softly. “You’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. You’ve truly blessed my life.”
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I smiled politely and withdrew my hand. “That’s very kind. I’ll see you next week.”
After he left, I sat back in my chair with a sigh. Edward’s interest was flattering, I supposed, but also concerning. I wasn’t ready for any kind of relationship–not after Rowan, not after everything I’d been through. And even if I were, dating a patient would be completely unprofessional.
Still, a small voice whispered in my head, it felt good to be seen that way.
I shook the thought away. Edward was vulnerable right now, still grieving. His attachment to me was part of his healing process, nothing more. I would need to maintain clear boundaries going forward.
I was still lost in these thoughts when a knock at my door brought me back to reality. Elena stood there, a folder in her hand
and an apologetic look on her face.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “I have a new patient I’d like you to take on.”
I straightened in my chair, pushing thoughts of Edward aside. “Of course. What’s the case?”
Elena handed me the folder. “Female, early thirties. Recently widowed. She’s been struggling with emotional instability since her husband’s death about a year ago.”
I took the folder, feeling a surge of sympathy already. “Poor woman. Grief can be so isolating.”
“Exactly,” Elena nodded. “And that’s why I thought of you. You have a way of connecting with people who feel alone.”
I opened the folder, scanning the intake form. My heart stopped when I saw the name at the top: Flora Reynolds.
My eyes shot up to Elena’s face. “This… this patient…”
Elena nodded encouragingly. “She’s been to three other therapists, but no one’s been able to help her. She’s very resistant to
therapy, but her family is concerned.”
I stared at the name again, willing it to change. The woman who had tried to tear apart my marriage from day one. The woman who looked at me with contempt while pretending to be my friend.
I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell Elena that I couldn’t possibly counsel this woman, that there was too much history between us. But how could I explain without revealing my own past? Without admitting that I knew Flora through my soon–to
-be–ex–husband?
“Is something wrong?” Elena asked, noticing my hesitation.
I forced a smile. “No, no. Just… thinking about approach. When is she scheduled?”
“In about an hour,” Elena said, looking relieved. “I know it’s short notice, but she called this morning quite upset.”
An hour. I had an hour to prepare myself to face Flora professionally, to set aside our history and be her counselor. Could I do
it? Should I?
“I’ll take her,” I heard myself say. “But I think I’ll go get some lunch first, clear my head.”
Elena squeezed my shoulder. “Perfect. Thank you, Janet, I knew I could count on you.”
After she left, I sat staring at Flora’s file, my mind racing. What was she playing at now? Did she know I worked here? Was
this some kind of trap?
No, it couldn’t be. The clinic was new to me–Jasper had just set it up a few days ago. There was no way Flora could know I was here. This had to be a coincidence. A terrible, uncomfortable coincidence.
I grabbed my purse and headed out, needing fresh air and time to think. There was a small café across the street from the clinic where staff often went for lunch. I ordered a sandwich and sat at a corner table, trying to calm my nerves.
You can do this, I told myself. You can help her without letting personal feelings get in the way.
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But could I? This was Flora–the woman who had flirted with my husband in front of me, who had belittled me at every opportunity, who had made me feel small and insignificant in my own home.
I barely touched my sandwich, my appetite gone. Instead, I sipped my water and rehearsed what I would say, how I would act.
Professional. Detached. Kind but not friendly.
By the time I headed back to the clinic, I felt a little more prepared. I would be Dr. Beckett, not Janet Thayer. I would treat
Flora like any other patient who needed help.
I walked quickly to my office, wanting a few minutes to review her file more thoroughly before she arrived. But when I opened my door, I froze.
Flora was already there, sitting in the chair across from my desk, flipping through a magazine. She looked up as I entered, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.
Her face went from polite expectation to shock, then to anger in the span of seconds.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded, dropping the magazine and standing up.
I stepped fully into the office and closed the door behind me, my heart pounding but my face calm.
“Hello, Flora,” I said quietly. “I work here now. I’m your counselor.”
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