“I’m expected to talk to you?”
“To talk to us?” Tilting my head slightly, I wait to hear Eleanor’s response to my brother.
Her hand goes to her throat as if she needs the physical support to get the words out. My eyes narrow as she swallows thickly. It hurts her to speak. I’m sure of it. That knowledge makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “You want to conduct therapy sessions in addition to the mandated monthly sessions from the center?”
“That’s correct,” Cade answers. With his hands folded, he leans forward and looks her in the eye. That’s my brother. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shy away from other people’s discomfort. “It’s essential that we’re involved in your care. We cannot help you or protect you if we aren’t included in each aspect that’s questionable when it comes to your safety.”
“I think you’ll be rather disappointed.” Eleanor’s voice is low and strained, like it’s been brushed with steel wool. “I haven’t much to say.” There’s a note of melancholy that’s tangled in her nearly dismissive response.
“As part of our agreement, we need to offer on-demand access to emotional support.”
Eleanor’s manager, Kamden, pipes up from the archway, his tone hopeful. “Therapists will be coming and going. You’ll meet with them as well.”
She glances incredulously toward him, the corners of her mouth tugging down. But then her dark eyes come back to Cade, back to his attention. Eleanor nods without speaking, seemingly accepting the terms against her will. More questions are asked, this time from Cade. Her responses are short. Occasionally she follows the lead of her manager, searching him out before answering.
It’s like she’s conserving her words. What makes her choose one moment over another to use them? I give the manager a once-over as Cade moves through his agenda. I don’t know what to think of him. He prefers to go by Kam, and that’s the sum total of facts I have on hand. Obviously, he makes his money off Eleanor. I have questions. Like what happened to her that she ended up like this—withdrawn and wary and broken—and he appears to be just fine and speaking for her more than she speaks for herself.
The fourth time Eleanor’s fingertips grace the dip of her throat, Kam interrupts to offer her tea. She nods and I anticipate that being the only response, but she adds “please,” just above a murmur.
Their relationship is … unique. Something about him doesn’t sit right with me. I file my skepticism away for later.
Damon takes a half step forward from where he stands to the left of the fireplace as Kam turns on his heel to head to the kitchen, and my brother’s focus follows him. Leaning forward, he meets Eleanor’s eye level. She observes him with both curiosity and hesitation.
He softens his expression to question, “Everything all right so far?”
Her nodof acknowledgment comes with the faint sounds of Kam’s efforts to make the tea just behind us in the kitchen. “Damon, right?”
He mimics her response with a nod in affirmation, offering her an asymmetric smile as well. “That would be me.” Damon’s dark skin is complemented by his cobalt blue suit that nearly matches the walls, and his smile is as white as the shirt he wears under the slim-cut jacket.
Giving him a simper she relaxes slightly, although there’s still the tension that would be expected given the situation.
“I want to put your mind at ease,” Damon continues. “Each of us has received training in emotional support, and I am a board-certified physician.” A psychiatrist, to be exact.
Her smile wanes and the light in her eyes dims. For a moment, I think she’s not going to respond, but then she explains, “What if I don’t want to talk at all?”
Again, a nervous prick travels down my spine as Damon jokes with her that he’s comfortable in silence. It puts her at ease at least. That or the tea Kam offers her.
“Are we good to continue?” Cade asks just as Kamden gives Eleanor’s shoulder a light squeeze and returns to his position.
Taking a brief swig from my water bottle, I get the attention of Dane and Silas who have yet to speak, but luckily it doesn’t distract anyone else.
“I think it might be helpful for you to record your thoughts to share with the therapists at the Rockford Center. Either by writing them down or recording yourself. That way, you could maintain a connection with them, even if it’s through videos.”
Eleanor’s shake of her head is firm, although her eyes are luminous with anguish. “I don’t want to talk to a lens.” Every word out of her mouth feels carefully weighed. As if she’s balanced them all against the pain it’ll cause her to use her voice. “I’ve done that enough.”
“Ella,” Kam’s tone is pleading. He takes three long strides into the room at the same time that I speak.
“I like to talk.” I ignore the burning look I’m aware Cade is giving me. “I’ve got stories to share if you want to listen. Maybe share some with me?” There’s a note in my offer I wish wasn’t there. A smoothness in my tone, casual and inviting, that I don’t use with clients. One I hope the rest of the men don’t pick up on.
Clearing my throat and standing up straighter, I cover my tracks, motioning toward Damon as I add, “It can be easier to share in group settings.”
They all stare, even Eleanor. I’m aware of every inch of my body. Of my too-casual lean against the windowsill. Of the water bottle that’s seconds away from being crushed in my hands. I loosen my grip on it and meet her eyes. A semblance of a smile lifts the corners of her mouth. My lungs feel tight from holding my breath. I don’t let it out. Don’t even move. If she smiles right now, if that hint becomes something real, it’ll be an accomplishment.
Eleanor’s lips part, her brow arching as she eyes me, and—
“This will all be recorded?” Kam’s voice takes the weak start to an inquisitive smile off her face and draws her eyes back to him. He’s taken a step into the room to hover over her.
His comment is a rock through glass. Eleanor holds my gaze for another beat, and then it’s back on my brother. Cade nods at Kam but then quickly returns his attention to Eleanor. “Of course. You don’t have to stare into a lens. Cameras are already placed in each room.”