That annoying little voice in the back of my head spoke up, reminding me of what he'd said after the Lara incident, how he'd sworn off relationships, not wanting to risk his heart until he'd found someone worth the risk. Guilt settled in my stomach, a heavy lump that weighed down every part of me. He'd trusted me with his heart and I'd violated that trust. After what Lara had done to him...my actions were reprehensible. But I had to believe that he would find someone truly worthy of him, someone who could give him everything I couldn't.
All of these thoughts and more swirled around and around in my head every day, pulling me down further and further into the darkness. After what I'd gone through as a child, I'd struggled with depression, and I'd thought I'd finally beaten it. I hadn't had a bout of it in a few years, not since moving out here. I'd believed that I'd left it behind in Florida, along with my real name and everything else that had symbolized who I'd been.
Now, I saw that it had always been there, lurking below the surface, just waiting for something like this to happen so that it could break through and swallow me. It was like drowning, or at least what I'd always imagined drowning would feel like. Struggling to keep my head above water, desperate for air, arms and legs fighting against the current until it was just too much. Giving up was so much easier than trying to stay afloat.
By Thursday evening, I knew I had to make a choice. I was at the turning point. I could give in and let myself wallow here until I finally ended things, or I could keep fighting. I didn't want to fight. I'd been fighting my whole life, even when I hadn't realized it. I'd tried to kill myself before, but I'd survived and kept fighting a bit longer. Even when I wished I'd die, I hadn't pursued the idea. I supposed I could still snap out of this on my own, but I also knew that if I gave in to it, there was a chance I'd never come back.
I fumbled with my phone, turning it on before I realized I'd made a choice. My heart thumped painfully against my ribcage when I saw that Rylan's calls had finally stopped. I ignored the couple messages he'd left yesterday and went to my contacts list. I hadn't dialed this number in a long time and I hoped it was still good since it wasn't her office line.
“Hello?” A vaguely familiar voice answered on the second ring.
“Dr. MacLeod, it's Jenna Lang.” My voice sounded weaker than I liked, but I pressed on. “I need to see you.”
Chapter 4
When I'd gotten accepted to Colorado State University, I hadn't turned eighteen yet and I'd prepared myself for a fight with the court system to let me graduate early and leave Florida. Instead, I'd gotten a surprise. The only person I had even a small sense of trust in since Lily had died had been my court-appointed psychologist, Regina MacLeod, and that had mostly been because Lily had trusted her. When I'd told Dr. MacLeod about what I wanted to do and my fears that I wouldn't be allowed, she'd simply smiled and said to let her take care of it. At our next session, she'd told me that she'd worked it all out. Her son had moved to Denver a few years before and he'd been asking her to join him for some time. Moving her practice to Fort Collins would be a good compromise. The court had agreed to emancipate me if I would continue twice-weekly meetings with Dr. MacLeod until I turned eighteen. My last session had been the day after my eighteenth birthday. I'd seen her at least once a week almost every week for five years, and then I'd stopped going.
I'd checked in with her every so often the first couple years, but even that had stopped. I hadn't wanted any reminders of my past, and Dr. MacLeod was that. Going to see her again would bring up memories that I'd rather stayed forgotten, but she was the only person I could talk to now that...I shook my head. If I'd still had Rylan, I wouldn't have needed Dr. MacLeod in the first place. I would've had myself under control, dealing with things the way I had been for the past four years. Granted, the thing with Christophe had stirred things up again, as well as adding a new set of nightmarish memories, but I could handle them, especially with Rylan as my anchor, my support. Losing him, however, was threatening to pull me down into the dark and keep me there.
It had taken everything I'd had to pull myself together enough to shower and dress. The only other clean clothes I had were from the bag I'd taken with me to Rylan's – sweatpants and a sweatshirt to wear while we were moving things. What I'd worn the last few days had been from the little I'd left at the house the last time I'd been there. The majority of my clothes were in boxes at my apartment. I'd need to get some things tomorrow or find somewhere to wash what I had. I'd worry about that tomorrow though. First things first.
I walked into Dr. MacLeod's office more than a little nervous. It looked the same as it had the last time I'd been there. Professional, but comforting at the same time. Her office in Florida had been the same way. I'd thought she'd hired an interior decorator there, but this office was so similar I’d come to believe she'd done it herself. One of the reasons I respected Dr. MacLeod was that she didn't have an arrogant bone in her body. Case in point, she was currently standing on one of the chairs in her waiting room, her short silver hair a mess, and she was attempting to swat at something on the ceiling.
“Dr. MacLeod.” For the first time since I'd met Rylan's family, I felt like smiling.
“Jenna.” She beamed at me and climbed down from the chair. “Apparently, a spider has made its home on my ceiling and Carolyn's too frightened to squash it.”
“That's not what I said.” A rather stout woman spoke up from behind the receptionist's desk. “I said, I can't get my fat ass up in that chair so I can reach it.” She glared at Dr. MacLeod for a moment before giving me a polite smile. “Carolyn Chisom. I don't believe we've met before.”
“No.” I shook my head. “The last time I was here, Denise was the receptionist.”
“I took over for Denise two years ago,” Carolyn said. “She decided to stay home with her kids.”
“Well, Carolyn, I wasn't able to get rid of our guest, so I suppose we'll just have to wait until he decides to come down and join us.” Dr. MacLeod smoothed down her hair and opened the door to her office. “Jenna.”
I stepped inside and sat down in the same chair I'd used the last time I was here. It was still comfortable, but I could feel a bit of a sag to it, a reminder of how long it had been since I'd last been here.
“I'm glad to see you.” Dr. MacLeod took her usual seat. “Though I'd hoped that your absence over the last four years meant that you were living a full and uncomplicated life.”
I gave her a half smile. “I was doing okay. Able to handle things on my own.”
“And then?”
I took a deep breath. “I'm not quite sure where to start.”
“Why don't you start with what made you call me?”
Right. Another reason I'd grown to like Dr. MacLeod. She didn't beat around the bush. I preferred straightforward, especially when it came to things like this. It didn't exactly make answering her question easier, but I appreciated her approach.
“I'm depressed and I knew if I didn't talk to someone, I was going to make a really stupid decision.”
She raised an eyebrow, but didn't push it. I knew if I said 'suicide' or 'kill myself,' she'd be obligated to determine if my threat was real and, if so, commit me for a psych evaluation. I know she suspected what I meant, but she'd let me say it the way I wanted.
“The future has never been bright for me,” I continued. “You know that. But I was doing good. Working, putting the past behind me...” My voice trailed off and I looked down at my hands.
“What happened?” The doctor's voice was gentle, but I knew I couldn't ignore her question.
It was harder than I'd imagined to get the words out. “I fell in love.”
Slowly, I told her the story, starting at the beginning. I didn't give her the gory details of my sex life before Rylan, but I didn't hide the fact that I'd had a hell of a lot of one night stands. I was honest about how Rylan was my boss and how I felt about Zeke, Rylan's best friend. I knew she wouldn't judge me on any of it. That wasn't what she did and it wasn't while I was here. I left in all of the important parts, even the ones that didn't make me look very good. When I finally finished, I felt like a weight had been lifted from me. I still hurt and the future still looked dim, but I thought that maybe, I could keep going.
“Why did you decide not to talk to Rylan about what his sister said?”
I frowned, though I wasn't surprised. I'd known she was going to ask that. “Because he'd say he didn't care that I can’t have children.”
“And you think he's lying?”
“Yes .No.” I paused to get my thoughts in order. “Not exactly. But I think he'll convince himself that he doesn't care.”
“And you're worried that he'll resent you.” She didn't make it a question.
“It's best to just break things off now,” I said.
“Shouldn't you let him make that choice?”
***
I didn't really like the advice that Dr. MacLeod had given me, but at least I'd talked things through, and that had helped. I could still feel the darkness at the edge of my mind, but there was only a shadow over me now. Unlike before, I didn't feel the need to continue to go back to the doctor. I'd dealt with my past and I was feeling more like myself now that I'd talked to her. I'd promised that if I needed her again, I'd call, but I was hoping it wouldn't come to that.
I squared my shoulders and raised my chin. My heart was still broken and I had a feeling I'd cry myself to sleep more than once over the next few weeks, but I was ready to move on. The first step was figuring out what I was going to do next.
I needed to go back to my apartment to get some clothes and I needed to figure out what I wanted to do for work. I hadn't exactly been thinking about work other than a vague idea that I'd return to my previous business. Now, however, I wasn't so sure that would be the best idea. If I kept working in security or any sort of tech support, the chances of me not running into Rylan were low. After all, the first time we'd had sex had been at a tech conference that we'd attended separately.
I couldn't take seeing him again, not like that. I'd never be able to concentrate. I needed to find something else to do. Keeping busy was usually a good way to get my mind off things. I'd go back to the hotel and start making a list of what I needed to do, including a second list of possible jobs.
The cab was halfway to the hotel when my phone rang. I swore as I dug into my pocket for it. I'd forgotten to turn it back off after calling Dr. MacLeod last night. I'd almost hit the reject button when I saw that it wasn't Rylan calling. I had a moment of sadness that he'd stopped trying to reach me and then answered the phone.
“Agent Matthews,” I said.
Raymond Matthews had been the FBI agent who'd come to Archer Enterprises to ask for my permission to give Christophe a deal that would allow the FBI to go after several other pedophiles. I hadn't particularly liked him at first since he hadn't been the most sympathetic of people, but he was genuine in his desire to help.
“Miss Lang.”
“I'm really hoping you aren’t calling to tell me that Christophe is going to go free without any penalty.” My voice sounded dry, but my heart began to race at the thought of Christophe roaming free with only a restraining order in place to keep him away from me and Rylan.
“No, they're still working on his deal and he's still out on bail.” He paused, and then continued, “You haven't seen him, have you?”
“No.” I involuntarily looked out the window as the taxi pulled up in front of the hotel. There were a couple people outside, but none of them were Christophe and none of them even looked twice at me. With regular hair and clothes, there wasn't much about me to attract attention.
“What I'm actually calling about, Miss Lang, is a job offer.”
“What?” I had to have misheard him. The FBI didn't offer jobs to people like me.
“I have a job proposal for you,” he said. “I'd prefer to give you the details in person.”
“You do remember that the last time we saw each other, I needed to sign a paper because I'd done some illegal things in my past, right?” I kept my tone light.
“I remember,” he said. He almost sounded amused. “I also remember that the paper you signed gave you immunity.”
“From prosecution, not from vetting for a federal job.”
He laughed, a rusty noise, like he didn't do it very often. “Trust me, Miss Lang. I wouldn't come to you with this unless my superiors had already approved it.”
Now I was curious. What would be so important that the director of the FBI would be willing to overlook a criminal past as well as my own rather unorthodox appearance? Granted, I at least had normal-colored hair now, but I was still far from what a federal agent should look like.
“When do you want to see me?”
“Monday morning, if at all possible. I'm supposed to head back to DC for a debriefing on Tuesday. I'll come down to the police station in Fort Collins rather than making you come to Denver.”
Maybe this was the out I'd been looking for. If nothing else, it was worth a shot. “I'll be there at eight.”
“I'll see you then.”
Chapter 5
I was hoping that Rylan had missed enough work Monday looking for me that he had to work today even though it was Saturday. Or maybe he was working to stop himself from thinking about me. Either way, I hoped he wasn't staking out my apartment. That actually sounded a bit creepier when I thought of it like that.
He wasn't there, so it didn't matter anyway. A part of me was a bit hurt that he seemed to have given up so easily, but that was a good thing. At least that's what I told myself. If he wasn't looking for me anymore, that meant he'd accepted that I didn't want to see him or talk to him. I hoped that meant he'd move on quickly. It was excruciatingly painful to think of Rylan with someone else, enough to make my eyes swim with tears and my lungs constrict painfully, but I knew I'd done the right thing.
I walked into my apartment, the pain in my heart increasing until I could barely breathe. All of my things were in boxes. Not that there were many of them. I owned enough clothes, but not in excess. My kitchen things were going to go in storage until I decided where I wanted to donate them. Everything was clearly marked. I hadn't wanted us to take more time than necessary cleaning out things here. I'd wanted to be home...