“She’s clearly had too much to drink. Thanks, Luke. Dinner was great.” Gabe gave a final wave before Luke closed the door, leaning back against it with his hands in his pockets.
She always remembered that image of Dr. Luke Jones as her favorite: casual and blindingly handsome. The evening had bestowed a few wrinkles to his clothes. The messy contrast to his perfectly parted, neatly combed hair gave him an unforgettable boyish appeal, and there was a soft surrender in his blue eyes.
“I-I’m at a loss for words.”
Jessica nodded. “What were the chances, right?” She shifted slightly from one foot to the other in an attempt to ease the murderous torture of her heels. “I think I’ll keep my appointment with you for next week after all.”
Luke squinted as he shook his head. “I can’t be your doctor anymore.”
“What? Why not?”
“Our friends set us up on a date tonight. We kissed. The grid of lines we’ve crossed is so far beyond ethical I can’t see straight. I’m not going to end my career over this. And you need help, but it can’t be me. I’ll refer you to someone else, but—”
“Someone else?” Jessica’s voice strained in disbelief against her wavering anger. “I’m not doing this shit again. I’ve spent the past three months with you. Opening up to you. Being studied by you. Now I’m just supposed to start over?”
“It wouldn’t be like that.” Luke pushed off the door.
Jessica retreated a step in response.
“I’d bring your new doctor up to speed on our progress—”
“Progress? Really? Have you looked in the mirror? Do you call that progress?”
“I can’t see you. Period.”
Jessica crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t see me as my doctor or—”
“At all.” Luke’s words held a cold finality. “I’m not an ER doctor that stitched up your wound. I’m a psychiatrist and in my profession it’s not ethical to get personally involved with patients—not during treatment and not even after the professional relationship has been terminated.”
“But you kissed me back.”
He shook his head, squinting a bit. “I should not have.”
Jessica drew in a shaky breath and closed her eyes, willing what was happening to just stop. She needed him and she had to make him see that. “I’ll never forget how her body looked drained of its blood.”
“Jessica, don’t. I’m not your doctor anymore.” Luke opened the front door.
Memories of that crippling fear seized her body. She opened her eyes and stared at an imperfection in the dark wood floor next to a small steel-framed credenza. “He always wore combat fatigues with brown boots. I estimated his shoe size to be a ten from the blood-stamped boot prints on the floor.”
“Jessica! Stop. Now.”
“That’s what I said … every time he’d cut her. He was in control, total control. And when he’d start to lose it, he’d cut her again. Just the sight of it calmed him. I don’t remember when I stopped crying and started placing bets with myself as to where he would cut her next. Every time I guessed correctly I felt stronger as Claire became weaker. It was as if I was taking his control. If I could predict his next move I could save us, get us out of there.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t—I won’t do this with you. Call my office on Monday and Eve will give you a referral.” Luke grabbed her arm.
It took a moment for Jessica to register what he was doing and by the time she did, the door was closed and she was on the opposite side. She rested her cheek and flattened her hands against it. The magnetism to Luke was more than she could resist. He had something so vital to her survival that walking away would feel like a slow death.
“He was her boyfriend. Claire had met him online. They dated over the internet for almost a year before they decided to meet. He wanted to wait until she was eighteen so Claire asked me to drive down to San Diego with her on her birthday. It was the summer between our junior and senior year. I didn’t turn eighteen until that October.” A lone tear smeared down her cheek. “Luke?” she whispered, closing her eyes.
She sucked in a shaky breath. “Our parents thought we were going to LA for a concert. Jude was the only person who knew where we were going. Claire didn’t know I told him, but I did. Jude and I don’t keep secrets; we never have.” She opened her eyes and started sliding her fingernail along the grooves of the woodgrain door.
“It wasn’t the best neighborhood, but when I tried to warn Claire she berated me for being so judgmental. The houses were all small and rundown with cars parked on the streets and so much junk in the driveways it looked like everyone was having a rummage sale. Four lived in a green house with half the siding ripped off, an old brown stained sofa on the weathered gray porch, and the storm door with ripped screen that rattled on its loose hinges like an earthquake every time the wind gusted.”