Reaper's Promise: An MC Romance (Savage Kings MC Book 19) by Steele Carter

Author:Steele, Carter [Steele, Carter]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2020-04-25T16:00:00+00:00

4

Renee

Have I thought about last Friday night? What do you think, Zane?

I’d done so well being a detached professional in the six days before, but that was very easy to do without him staring me in the face as he was now. The image of Zane was easy to deflect, but the presence of Zane was not.

Those two choices that I thought I had just moved to the side suddenly roared their head back up, as if to say that I had not finalized my choice. Zane had dug them out of the grave, thrust them back in my face, and demanded that I either bury him with them or accept what I had done.

I took a deep breath and just trusted whatever came out next to be what was best.

“I am not sure what you mean,” I said.

Well that was about the worst thing I could have said.

“You know exactly what I mean, c’mon, Renee,” Zane said with a laugh, though it seemed more like a laugh to push off tough emotions than to actually find humor in the situation. “What happened last Friday? In the evening? Do I need to spell it out for you?”

“I know that, but it is not a topic of discussion here.”

Boy, I had not meant to be so cold. But here it was.

“I am here to help you become a better man and to overcome the issues that led to your arrest. We have not been doing this long enough for us to discuss other issues. Until we do so, I am afraid that we will have to remain on topic. Do you understand?”

I had never seen Zane look so hurt. Granted, I hadn’t seen him much at all, but the expression on his face told me I’d driven something through his heart that couldn’t be so easily removed. Therapy could have some tough moments, but when said therapy involved you, the therapist, telling the patient to leave that behind…

Zane was going to need another therapist just from dealing with me. But as long as that wasn’t something that Sheriff Jones became aware of, I would be able to process it at some point. I just wouldn’t be able to do it very well while he was sitting here in front of me.

“Yeah, sure,” Zane said.

There was nothing about him that actually accepted it. He may have understood what I had said, but, well, acceptance didn’t seem to be a part of what he’d said.

It was of no surprise that the rest of the meeting was the most “going through the motions” therapy sessions I had ever done. Zane gave glib answers, but I didn’t do much better; much of our discussion was in how the club would respond to the violence from the weekend, not even accounting or addressing the fact that both of us were responsible somewhat. I asked cliche questions, and Zane gave cliche answers.

It was decided by the end of the session, in my head, that I was going

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