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CHAPTER 36

"I remembered that the real world was wide, and that a varied field of hopes and fears, of sensations and excitements, awaited those who had the courage to go forth into its expanse, to seek real knowledge of life amidst its perils."
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

DR. MAY POV

I don't glance up as Chelsea escorts my 7:30am patient in. I don't have to.

"Take a seat," I offer, making a couple more notes in my file.

Seeing in my peripheral vision that the seat across my desk remains empty, I finally glance up.

"These sessions generally last about an hour. It's a long time to stay standing, but if it's what you'd prefer, then knock yourself out."

Hazel eyes assess me, taking in everything about me, and then everything about my office.

"Seriously, Ms. Sidle, sit down," I close the file with a sigh. "You're giving my neck a cramp."

Eyes narrowing faintly, she does as I ask, pushing the chair slightly back as she sits.

"How can I help you today?"

The expression on her face shifts, eyes moving towards the file on my desk.

"It's not obvious?"

Laughing, I tap the file with my fingers.

"Oh, no," I tell her seriously. "The need for therapy is obvious. The clarification regarding which issue in particular you want help with, however, isn't."

Jaw tightening, Sara readjusts her position in her seat.

"I don't know," she says. "I don't know how something like this usually works…where someone usually starts…"

"Alright," I shrug, folding my hands across my desk. "How about I suggest some potential areas of concern and you can choose?"

Sara's eyes continue to watch mine.

"Fine."

"Excellent." I pull the file open. "Let's see here."

Glancing over pages that I've already memorized, I drum my fingers against my desk.

"You can choose from your abusive household…your brother's suicide - either brother…your sister's molestation…your sister's death…your mother's incarceration…your mother's suicide…your father's murder…your rapes - either by your father or your brother…your drug abuse problem…your borderline drinking problem…the various fatal shootings you've been involved in…"

Glancing up I see her expression is tight, her eyes dark and guarded.

"Your choice, Ms. Sidle."

Hands tightening into fists, she clenches her jaw.

"Fine," I shrug. "I'll choose. How about…"

I glance back over the file before closing it and fixing her gaze evenly with my own.

"How about you tell me about the first night you were raped by your father? How did it make you feel? Did it make you happy when he died?"

All but glaring at me, Sara pushes back from her chair, getting to her feet.

"Fuck you."

Reaching my office door, she pulls it open with such force it slams into the wall beside her.

Swinging in its frame, Sara's long gone by the time it stops moving.

SARA POV

"You're not taking into account the ambient temperature of the water."

"What?" Nick's voice is confused, eyes glancing over his notes. "Yes we did. 56.4 degrees."

"You're not taking into account the ambient temperature of the water correctly," I amend my statement.

Nick's eyes stare at me like I have two heads, but it's another pair of eyes assessing me from further back in the room that has my heart hammering in my chest.

"What happened last night?" I ask Nick, keeping my focus on the person and the pair of eyes I can handle dealing with right now.

"Huh?" he questions, brows furrowed in frustrated confusion.

Deciding to make this process easier, I gesture above me.

Glancing up, he looks even more confused.

"The storm, Nicky."

"Right," he states slowly, his expression still confused. "But there was hardly any rain, just a lot of lightning. That amount of rain wouldn't have impacted the temperature in the pool significantly."

"Not unless there were other variables affected by the storm."

Narrowing his eyes, he places his palms against the layout table.

"The lights went out for about two minutes…but again...not really an issue…," he trails off, sending a frustrated glance towards the silent blond still standing quietly in the back of the room.

She's of no help, her eyes remaining focused directly on me.

Deciding to get this over with, I gesture to the pictures of the pool.

"The pool was heated," I tell him, pointing to the plastic heater unit perched along the side. "Keeping the water at a very different temperature than the winter nights in Vegas would keep it, if the setting on the dial is any indication. The power outage likely triggered a surge. Normally those types of heaters are tied into the house breaker system…"

"And the surge triggered the breaker and would've shut off the heater. We assumed it wasn't running because it didn't turn back on with the rest of the electricity in the house," he states with a groan, mentally kicking himself for the oversight.

I nod, sending him a supportive look to not beat himself up about it, after all it's been a long shift.

"Your time of death is probably a lot shorter than you think," I summarize, picturing the body spending most of its time in the warm pool water before the power surge and rain caused a rapid cooling.

"Yeah," he breathes out, eyes roaming over his case file.

Tapping his fingers on the edge of it, he shakes his head and offers me a look.

"Thanks," he says, straightening up and making his way to the door. "I'm going to go recalculate things."

"Sure," I offer, though he's already out in the hall.

Not looking up, I gather my own papers spread across the table, my free hand making quick work of the items.

I nearly bang my limbs into the table legs in surprise when a hand reaches out and gently takes hold of my wrist.

My motions stilled, my excuses not to look at her dashed, I swallow and try to calm my breathing.

Eyes finally making their way to hers, I offer her a nod and a small smile.

"Hey," I greet awkwardly, as this is essentially the first time we've seen each other this morning.

"Hey," she offers quietly in response, expression warm, concerned, tentative. "I…"

She trails off, and I feel my heart clenching at her struggle, at her hesitance.

Catherine is the most confident and secure person I know, I hate it when she doubts herself. I hate it when it's me that causes her to doubt herself.

Taking a breath, she steels her resolve, eyes focused squarely on my own.

"How'd it go this morning?" she gets out, gaze nervously searching my expression.

Her eyes hold so much hope, so much love and warmth that I have to physically fight the temptation to look away.

I tighten my jaw, clamping down on the temptation to tell her just how horribly this morning went. To tell her that I basically told that wretched therapist to go fuck herself.

Reaching out with her free hand, Catherine gently runs her fingers down my tense jaw, eyes narrowing in concern.

"Sar?" she questions.

Swallowing, I bolster my resolve, not having it in me to crush the hope in her eyes. Not after everything that's happened, everything I've put her through.

I've made her witness me at some of my darkest hours, and there's no way I'm going to bring anymore darkness into her life. Not now, not when I think we've both started to see glimpses of light at the end of this very tumultuous road we've been traveling.

I won't let this, let that woman, take that away from us. From Catherine.

"It was okay," I answer, clearing my throat when the words feel like they're choking me.

Her eyes assess my own, gaze threatening to penetrate straight through to my soul.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I affirm, trying to keep my voice, my body steady.

"So you're going back?" she asks, the optimism in her voice causing yet more constrictions in my chest, my heart.

Swallowing, I know there's only one answer I can give this beautiful and loving woman who's been through so much.

"Yes."

Eyes closing in relief, some of the tension leaves her frame, her hand still holding my wrist traveling down to hold my hand instead.

"I'm so proud of you," she tells me, blue gaze fixing on my own when she opens her eyes again.

Leaning in, she places her lips gently against my temple.

"So proud, Sara."

"I don't give a shit if she's with the Dali Lama," I get out through clenched teeth. "Tell her someone's been added to her schedule."

Sighing, the overly made up woman behind the fancy mahogany desk looks unimpressed with me.

"Miss," she breaths out, like forming words is a chore. "She's already left for the day."

"Bullshit."

The woman glances anxiously around the waiting room, plastering a fake smile on her face.

"Miss, please," she offers in sugary, hushed tone. "You're making the other clients nervous."

I raise a brow, casting a brief glance behind me at the one other person in the waiting room. A man reading a magazine who doesn't even glance up, clearly engrossed in whatever he's reading.

"You tell her I'm here to see her or I do it myself," I spin back around and fix her with a piercing gaze.

"I told you, she's already left-"

She doesn't get to finish her statement before I sidestep the desk and make quick work of the hall.

"Hey!"

Reaching Dr. May's office, I all but shove her door open.

Thank the heavens she's alone, because I would've actually felt a bit bad if I barged in on someone else's session.

Head jerking up, she looks at me, her eyes slightly wide, but not looking entirely surprised.

Which only pisses me off further.

"Ms. Sidle?" she questions, expression calm. "I wasn't aware we had an appointment."

"Cut the crap," I force out. "I don't know what the hell game you're trying to play with me, but it's not going to work."

"Excuse me?"

I clench my hand into a fist.

"That shit you pulled with me this morning?" I shake my head. "Fuck with me all you want, but you're not going to fuck with the people I love."

"I wasn't aware I had…"

Stepping forward I point a threatening finger at her.

"There're a lot of people counting on this therapy tripe to work," I tell her none too kindly. "You're not screwing that up for them."

She looks like she's about to respond when her eyes shift to somewhere behind me.

Before I know it, a pair of strong hands grabs me by my upper arms, pulling me firmly back.

Clenching my teeth against the pain shooting through my shoulder, I fight against the restraint.

"Let her go," Dr. May states, getting to her feet and putting down her pen.

Whoever this bear of a man they use for security around here is, he doesn't listen, pulling me further back, nearly lifting me off my feet.

"Let her go," she demands, her voice this time raising several volume levels. "Now!"

The hands gripping me pause, hesitating before finally releasing me.

Stepping away, I try to steady myself against the waves of agony pulsing near my collarbone.

"Get out."

At first I'm not sure who her eerily low command is directed to, but it becomes clear after a moment when she approaches the guard and points to the door.

"Out. Now."

The guard has about two feet of height on this woman, but he actually looks a bit tentative.

Raising his arms in surrender, he glances at me one last time before leaving, pulling the door shut behind him.

"You okay?" she asks me, turning her focus towards my arm.

"I'm fine."

She lets out a sigh, pushing her hair back from her face as some of the fight seems to leave us both.

"You're right," she tells me with a shake of her head. "Our first meeting was designed to go exactly how it did for a reason."

I clench my jaw, having suspected as such, but anger building up inside all the same.

"Don't fuck around with me," I warn her seriously. "I'm willing to give this therapy thing a shot, but not if you're going to play mind games on me."

I fix her with a look.

"It happens again and I walk."

She nods, eyes staying on mine.

"You have my word."

She shakes her head, letting out a breath.

"I'm sorry," she offers, and I don't know why I'm surprised to hear a doctor, a therapist, apologize, but I am. "I was wrong to approach you with that particular tactic. I suspected it then, and I'm ashamed I didn't listen to my instincts."

I let out my own breath, shifting my stance slightly.

"Brass recommended you," I tell her. "I trust him."

The unspoken words are obvious to us both, so I don't feel the need to state them. I trust Jim, so I'm willing to give her another shot, but I by no means trust her.

"Fair enough."

Straightening up, she makes her way back around her desk.

"Why don't we plan a meeting for tomorrow? I'll explain everything to you and perhaps, if you're willing, we can start moving forward."

I search her eyes.

"What time?"

"Seven p.m.?"

I raise a brow.

"My schedule's pretty full during the day."

I nod slowly, realizing she's sacrificing her personal time to see me.

"See you then."

"Sara?" she calls me back as my hand is on the knob.

"Yeah?"

"You sure you're alright?" she questions, eyes roaming over the sling on my arm.

"Physically, yes. The rest is up to you to decide."

Smiling at my half-serious response, she nods.

"See you tomorrow, Sara."

SARA POV

Approaching the porch, I cast a curious glance at the two occupants sitting next to each other on the steps.

"Hey."

Smiling, Nancy offers me a wave. "Hey yourself."

"Everything okay?" I ask, petting Mesa near his ears as he rises to greet me.

"Everything's fine," Catherine assures me. "We were just chatting while we were waiting for you to get home."

"Okay…"

I look between them, knowing there's more they're not saying, but electing to drop it. Whatever it is they were discussing is their business.

"We made dinner," Nancy says. "Yours is in the oven staying warm."

"Oh," I offer in surprise, touched by the gesture. "Thanks."

Heading inside, I carefully grab the plate from the oven, tucking a bottle of water under my arm on the way back outside.

"Need help?" Catherine offers as I sit on the bottom step, her eyes watching me try to remove the aluminum foil from the top of the plate with my one available arm.

"Nope," I tell her, finally pulling the foil free. "And if anyone should help it's your sister who insisted on this damn thing."

She doesn't need clarification as to what 'damn thing' I'm referring.

"Only two more weeks," Nancy offers cheerily.

Eyes darting to hers, I shake my head.

"No way. Two more hours maybe."

When our stare down continues, we both shift our gazes to the third party.

"Oh no," Catherine states, raising her hands. "I'm not involved in this."

"You will be if you ever want your lover over there to be able to touch you with both her hands."

"Jesus," I choke, coughing up the water I just swallowed.

"Hmm," Catherine hums, barely a trace of pink on her cheeks. "In that case I think I have to side with Nance on this one."

Smiling from ear to ear, Nancy pats me on the back as I clear the remaining liquid from my lungs.

"Sorry, sugarbuns," she tells me. "You're outnumbered."

CATHERINE POV

Waving to my sister as she drives off, I turn and head back into the house, smiling at Sara as she leans on the doorway to the kitchen.

"Sometimes I want to kill your sister," she confesses to me, shaking her head, a smile pulling at her mouth despite her best efforts.

"Hmm," I hum, stepping closer to her. "I personally think her concerns are quite valid…"

I trail off, stepping into Sara's personal space.

"Your hands are very valuable to me," I offer in a near whisper.

Then, almost as if my own hands are possessed, they reach forward, trailing slowly down Sara's sides before resting on her hips.

"Yeah?" she questions, own voice low.

"Yeah."

Sara's eyes assess mine for a moment or two, the clicking of the second hand of the living room clock the only noise audible in the entire house.

I'm not even entirely sure either one of us is breathing.

Reaching forward with her free hand, Sara's gaze remains on mine as she slowly trails her fingers down my temple, tucking some wayward locks of hair behind my ear.

"Thank you."

Her words, quiet and thick with emotion, surprise me.

"For what?" I ask, eyes furrowed in question.

"For still being here."

Head tilting to the side, I study her, trying to get insight into the meaning of her statement from her eyes, her expression.

"Sara?"

Her hand rests against the side of my head, her thumb trailing gently across my temple.

"All that's happened…all I've done…all you've gone through because of me…because of my family…"

She shakes her head, her eyes colored with emotion.

"All that, and you're still here. With me."

A breath escapes my chest as the meaning of her words is now clear. I move one of my hands from her hip to tilt her chin back up, keeping my hand there and our gazes locked.

"There's nowhere else for me to be," I tell her sincerely. "You're my soulmate, Sara Sidle."

I note the subtle stiffening of her body beneath my fingers at the inclusion of her last name. The name which still holds so many unspoken emotions, feelings for the brunette.

"And being here is not some chore or sacrifice," I tell her, drawing her thoughts back to the present. "It's an honor."

Her eyes move between mine, the greens and browns of her gaze blending together in the warm glow of the evening light trailing through the windows.

Before I can form another thought, Sara steps slightly forward, her body mere millimeters from mine. Her lips are suddenly on my own, her fingers tangling themselves into my hair.

Body snapping into action at the feeling, my hips place themselves flush against her own, both my hands embedding themselves in her own hair, deepening the kiss.

My tongue meets with hers, both of us fighting for dominance, our bodies trying to connect on every possible level.

Hands traveling south, I grab the waist of her jeans and pull her against me.

It's been so long since we've truly let go like this, so long since we've let down our walls and let our desires, our pure love for one another take control.

No logic, no thinking, only emotion guiding our bodies, our hearts.

I gasp as Sara's hand finds its way under my shirt, her fingers trailing along the small of my back, moving higher and higher.

"I think my sister might be wrong," I mumble against her lips, breath hitching as she trails kisses down towards my neck.

"I think…" I raise my head in near ecstasy as her lips, her tongue reach the sensitive spot near my collar bone.

"You're able to do…" another gasp escapes my mouth as her fingers unclasp my bra.

"Just fine…" my head raises completely toward the ceiling, eyes closing in bliss as her breath tickles against my flushing skin, my shirt now long gone and laying somewhere on the floor.

"With only one hand."

Sara smiles against my skin, and then the world starts to fade away around me, my mouth no longer able to form words, my brain no longer able to form thoughts as limbs tangle together, bodies becoming one as we push our way towards the bedroom.

AN: Thanks for reading.