The Shrink by Sophia Karlson

Author:Sophia Karlson [Karlson, Sophia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-07-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 27

Stacey took the few steps up to the deck but paused. Guitar sounds drifted through the half-opened sliding doors. With a tight grip on Max’s collar, she stilled the dog, her ears tuning in to the song she knew by heart. She choked up as Ivo’s voice fell in with the solitary tune his fingers plucked from the guitar. Suzanne. He had no love to give her. But he’d always been her lover. She could trust him because he’d touched her perfect body with his mind.

Her grip on Max weakened as the lyrics broke through to her. This was him and her, wasn’t it? Caught in some song where everything and nothing made sense. Max strained loose and bounded into the cottage.

She braced herself as Ivo’s playing broke off. There was no way she could avoid him any longer. And she had to get back home. Foolishly, they’d only brought one car.

“Hey, boy.” Ivo was stroking Max’s head as she stepped into the cottage.

She’d no idea what she looked like, but he dropped his guitar, shot out of his chair and came over to her in a few wide strides.

“Hey…” His eyes searched her face, his concern etched in lines she’d noticed before, but only now realized the tale they told. “I’ve been worried, but then Max was with you—”

“I’m good…thank you.” She gulped a breath, trying to suppress her emotions, closing her eyes for a second.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Better. Thank you. I’m so sorry about last night.”

“Forget about it.” His gaze homed in on her as his hand reached for hers. “How’s your hand?”

She pulled her hand away. “It’s fine, I’m fine.” She swallowed compulsively. “Who was Rebecca Linder?” The words came out rough and raw, but she had no other way of asking.

When she looked up at him again, his blue gaze had grown bland and hollowed out, his lips drawn in a thin line as his jaw tightened.

“The bench, Ivo, I saw the bench. On the cliff.”

“Of course you did.” He didn’t blink, didn’t move, but his chin dropped, and he sighed. “Rebecca was my wife.”

He turned and strode deeper into the cottage, dragging his hands through his hair.

She hovered on the threshold, wanting to say she was sorry. To hold him and somehow make the pain, which for a fleeting moment had flashed through his eyes, go away. “She died the same day as my mom.”

He stopped, his back still towards her. “I know.”

He knew? Did she tell him? She couldn’t recall.

“Ivo…” She took a step toward him, and he turned to face her. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. Last night—” How could she have been so heartless? “I didn’t mean to pry into your personal—” Pain. That was what she wanted to say, but she couldn’t.

“It’s not a secret, Stacey.”

But I don’t like talking about it. To strangers. To my patients. Because when we’re together, it’s not about me. It’s about you. She completed his sentence in her head. Would he even say that?

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