by Melissa West
Telling myself that I was being a good friend—or a demanding bitch, but that I’d been that bitch before—I crossed my arms and cocked my hip against the wall beside the bathroom door, waiting. The horrifying sound came from inside the bathroom again, and I placed my hand over my mouth, on the verge of tears because of what she was doing to herself. I wanted to bang on the door and demand that she stop, but that wasn’t the right response here. I needed to show support quietly.
Another minute passed, and I peeked around the corner into the cafe, glad to see Olivia and Alyssa still talking away about study abroad options. The door to the bathroom pushed open, and I jerked back.
“Oh, hey,” Sarah said, her eyes wide. Her face was ashen. “I don’t think I’m feeling very well.”
Relief washed over me. She wasn’t bulimic. She was just sick. “Oh no! I’m sorry. Let’s get you home.”
I waved the other girls to the door, saying that I was taking Sarah home, and then we were in my car, alone. I blasted the air on, pointing all the vents at Sarah, and started toward Charleston Haven. “Let me know if you start feeling sick again.”
She nodded, but she no longer looked sick. She looked sad. “I will. Thanks.” She fumbled with her purse in her lap, and when I glanced back over, tears were rolling down her face.
“Oh, Sarah. Are you okay? Do you want me to pull over?”
She shook her head. “No . . . I’m just . . .” Her head turned toward me, and I saw a hint of anger through the water in her eyes. “How do you do it? How do you eat what we just ate and stay so thin? It’s like you don’t even try. You’re tiny. And you don’t even try.”
My insides became sour, and I peered over slowly. “Sarah . . . you aren’t sick, are you?”
“What?”
“Back at the cafe. You threw up. Did you . . . did you make yourself do that?”
“What?” This time her voice was high pitched and she had a horrified look on her face.
I closed my eyes briefly to give myself the confidence I needed to press on. I’d seen girls like her at the center. I knew they were embarrassed of what they did. The stigma of it. But that at root, they didn’t feel it was wrong. Not like drinking or drugs or cutting. This was just throwing up. Everyone did it at some point . . . they just did it more frequently.
“Sarah . . . I’ve seen girls with bulimia at the center. You—”
“You don’t know shit about me. How dare you accuse me of something like this! We’re friends. I’m not some sicko at your stupid clinic.” She clenched her teeth together and crossed her arms, fuming, but the tears running down her face had picked up speed.
I parked outside our building and turned toward her, prepared to tell her that she was my friend, that I loved her, and that I wouldn’t judge her no matter what. But as soon as I’d put the car into park, she bolted from the car, not even bothering to shut the car door. She never looked back, but I knew she was crying. Just like I knew my friend was bulimic.
***
I walked around the corner toward Helping Hands, my heart beating wildly in my chest for two different reasons. I ran through a million ways of asking Tori about bulimia on my ride over. I didn’t want to tip her off to the fact that I knew someone who had the disorder. Knowing Tori, she’d threaten to fire me unless I contacted the person and forced her to come to the center. I couldn’t let that happen.
But then separate from my worry over Sarah, my heart started beating to a new rhythm as I walked down the sidewalk, seeing the Applegate & Long sign just a few steps ahead on my left. I told myself to pay attention to the list of services printed on the window so I could ask Colt about it later without sounding like a moron. The truth was I hadn’t paid attention to the services or the color of the building or anything else at all about the company, because every time I walked past it I became obsessed with the blond intern inside, hunched over a table, a concentration on his face that made him so beautiful that it was hard to look away.
Something had happened that night at the hospital. Colt’s care for Maggie and his refusal to leave me had somehow bound me to him. I felt obsessed and a little unsettled, but I loved it. I loved feeling something for someone again. And I loved the endless possibilities that lay before us. Preston and I never had that intense beginning, where you wanted to see the other person all the time, where you were excited to learn his quirks. I had already known Preston’s quirks. And though Ethan and I weren’t as close as Preston and me, I had still known him very well, too. I remembered what he looked like in third grade. This was different. Better. Exhilarating.
I stepped before the wide windows and peered through, my gaze instantly locking on Colt, seated in the same spot he chose every day. Everyone else was working at open cubicles, typing on their computers, but Colt sat behind the drawing table every time I’d seen him. I sighed at the sight of him, this time dressed in black slacks and a dark blue button down, sleeves again rolled to the elbows. I was shocked the firm required such formal business attire in the middle of summer, but I wasn’t complaining. I was used to seeing Colt look like a tattooed bad boy. Seeing him dressed in such sharp contrast to that appearance set my insides on fire.
I stared freely at him, basking in the sharp lines of his jaw, the hint of curl at the ends of his hair, the way his arm flexed on occasion as he drew. And then his deep brown eyes lifted, finding me, and I was pinned in place. He pushed out from behind his table, his eyes never leaving mine, and started for me. I swiped my tongue across my bottom lip, preparing—hoping—that once he reached me he would have no choice but to press his full, succulent lips against my—
“Kara?”
Shit.
I blinked hard. There I was, standing in front of his work, steps away from mine, having a full-out fantasy. Stupid, Kara. Stupid!
“Uh, hey.”
A crooked smile stretched across his face. “Why do I get the feeling I’m missing something?”
“Uh, you aren’t. Nothing. I was just heading to work and saw you and thought I’d—”
He took a step toward me. God, I loved when he took that step. It felt so personal, like it was just for me. I’d yet to see him step into anyone’s space the way he stepped into mine. He tilted his head toward me, just beside my ear. “Were you watching me work?”
“I . . .” I wanted to deny it, but this was Colt, seer of all things Kara. I closed my eyes and cringed. “I watch you almost every day.”
“Then I guess I should confess something,” he said. My eyes flashed open, worry working its way through me, but then he said with a laugh, “I already knew you’ve been watching me.”
I slapped his arm and he laughed harder. “You knew? Then why make me feel like a stalking moron? Why haven’t you come out here before?”
“What can I say? It turns me on when you watch me draw.”
I tried to hide a grin and failed. “Oh really?”
“You have no idea.”
I reached for his hand, threading my fingers through his. “Do you have a drawing table in your apartment?”
His smile returned. “I do.”
“Then maybe we could hang out at your place tonight. You know, if you want. I could watch you draw.”
He lifted my hand to his mouth and flipped it over, before pressing a kiss to my palm. “See you tonight then.” And then he turned back toward the firm, leaving me standing there, my heart a crazy flutter in my chest. I walked away and peered over my shoulder, to find him standing in the doorway to his office, watching me go.
“Stop staring at me,” I teased.
“Can’t help it.”
I shook my head, smiling, and focused back on making my way to Helping Hands on wobbly legs. I’d be lucky if I got any work done now. Colt’s house . . . tonight. I smiled again, until I slipped inside the center and my gaze stopped on the person standing just inside the door.
> Maggie.
“Hey . . . what are you doing here?” I asked, starting for her. “I thought you were supposed to be resting.”
Maggie had been placed on moderate bed rest in conjunction with the medication to stop her contractions. We had talked a few times, and she had promised me that she wouldn’t try to get out without asking someone to help her.
“I am. Or I have been. My dad’s just driving me insane. I guess he’s trying to make up for everything, so he’s hovering. I needed a break.”
“Does he know you’re here?”
She hesitated. “Not exactly.”
“Maggie!”
“Well, I’m nearly seventeen. I don’t need to tell my dad every time I go for a drive, and I had something important to tell you.”
I shot her a look, but knew I wasn’t getting anywhere. “You could have called.” Without thinking, I reached out and placed my hand to her stomach. “She’s growing.”
“She is,” Maggie said, placing her own hand on her belly. “I wanted to tell you in person.”
I peered up at her, suddenly concerned. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Fantastic, actually. I decided to keep the baby.”
“Oh, wow, that’s great!” Before I could stop myself, I hugged her. “We should go shopping.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely! I’d love to buy her something. Are you free this weekend?”
She grinned. “I am. Thanks, Kara. You’ve been amazing.”
Maggie left with a smile on her face, and I started toward the back hall, when Tori stopped me, a concerned look on her face. “Kara, what are you doing?”
I pointed to the door. “I was going to work.”
“I don’t mean that. I mean what are you doing with Maggie? She’s a teen girl. Who has a father.”
“A questionable father.”
Tori shrugged. “A father all the same. You can’t get involved with the people who come here. It goes against what we do. Taking them to the hospital during an emergency. Yes. Staying there all night even after her father came? That isn’t okay. I realize you have a huge heart, and that’s one of the reasons I hired you for this summer, but if you’re going to do this for real, you have to learn that you can only do so much for these people. You have to keep it within the limits of these walls. Outside, it isn’t our place, Kara. It just isn’t.”
“It’s just a present. Can’t I buy her a gift?”
Tori considered me. “Just a gift?”
“Just one teeny tiny gift.”
She sighed heavily. “Fine, one gift. But leave it there. Don’t immerse yourself in her world. It isn’t right. If I feel it’s becoming a problem, you will be removed from her case.”
I nodded. “I understand.”
“Kara? I mean this.”
“Okay.”
Tori studied me for another moment, before releasing a breath. “Okay. You’re in session room B again today.”
I pushed through the swivel door and down the hall to the second session room, my mind in a million different places. I didn’t see how Tori could be so angry. All I did was help Maggie. I sat down in the chair behind the desk, curious if I should cancel the shopping trip with Maggie, when my phone buzzed. I peered down to find a new message from her. I’d forgotten that I programmed my number in her phone on the way to the hospital.
Maggie: Thanks for everything. I’m not sure what I’d do without you!
I hung my head at the words. Clearly, Tori was right. I started typing out You’re welcome, but we should probably cancel the shopping trip, but she sent another text before I could press send.
Maggie: Can’t wait to go shopping!
I deleted my reply and stared down at her words. I couldn’t disappoint her. She had no one, and Tori said I could buy the one gift. I would stop it there. Just the gift, nothing more. I quickly typed back that I was excited too, to meet me in front of Helping Hands, and then set my phone on the desk, my heart full of guilt for reasons I didn’t understand. I was just trying to help. Why was that wrong?
I waited for someone to enter my room, a depressed college student or teen contemplating drugs, resigned that I would do as Tori suggested. I would separate myself from these people. I thought of Sarah and now Maggie. I pushed too hard. I needed to help them without involving my heart. I could do that.
I just wasn’t sure I wanted to.
The door opened and a college-aged girl I’d counseled a few weeks ago stepped in. I remembered her case very clearly. She was afraid of her boyfriend, afraid that he might hurt her. He’d begun drinking more and more, and alcohol brought out a side to him she’d never seen before. I remembered starting for the door to ask for a senior counselor to step in, but she begged me to keep it between us, that he hadn’t actually done anything . . . yet.
“Skylar, right?” I asked as she sat down.
“You remembered.”
I smiled. “Of course. How are things going?”
Her gaze dropped as she fiddled with her watch, and that was when I noticed the fingerprint-like bruises along her left wrist.
“Oh my God, is that . . . ?” I pointed to her wrist.
Her bottom lip shook. “We had an argument a few days ago. He’s so great and I love him, but then he starts drinking and, and . . .” She trailed off as tears began racing down her cheeks. “I don’t know what to do.”
I swallowed hard to keep over-opinionated Kara at bay. I wanted to scream for her to knee the jerk where it counts and tell him it’s over, but that wasn’t the answer here. Besides, for me, right now, he wasn’t the problem—or rather, the patient—Skylar was. I had to convince her that she was strong enough to stand up for herself and end things. “Skylar, I want to talk about what happened, but I can’t speak about this without a lead counselor present. Can I please bring in someone trained to help?”
She stood up quickly. “No. I don’t want anyone else to know. If he knew I was here, if he . . .” Her eyes darted around frantically like her boyfriend could be hiding in the corners or the shadows, waiting to attack her. The fear written on her face told me this wasn’t the first time he’d left marks on her. I tried to keep myself calm. The last thing I wanted was for her to leave, but I wasn’t allowed to speak to an abuse victim alone.
I drew a long breath. “Skylar, listen to me. You are safe here. No one will repeat anything you say. But I need to ask someone to sit in on our chat. Can you sit down please? Just give me a minute to grab Tori.”
“Tori?”
“She’s the program coordinator and she’s wonderful. Please. Just one minute.”
I watched as she slowly sat back down, and then I bolted from the room and down to Tori’s office, knocking once, then opening the door. “Hey,” I said to her startled expression. “Sorry, but I have an abuse victim with bruises. I need your help.”
Tori nodded, and we started back down the hall. I opened the door to session room B, my mouth opened to introduce Tori, but I quickly closed it back. The room was empty. Skylar had left.
I turned to Tori. “What can we do? Her boyfriend is hurting her. We have to help.”
Tori slowly shook her head. “There’s nothing we can do, Kara. She hasn’t pressed charges, has she?”
I shook my head.
“Did she ask you to call the police?”
“No, but—”
“Then, I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do,” Tori said. I started to argue when she reached out and squeezed my shoulder comfortingly. “I know, kid. Trust me, I know. It’s one of the hardest things about running a center like this. This isn’t a therapist’s office, where we learn about our patients. Where we can guide them through weekly sessions. These people are here and then gone. Maggie, your teen? She is a rarity. I have a few patients that return, but most I never see again.”
I slumped into the chair. “How do you let it go?”
Tori’s face softened. “I don’t.”
Chapter Sixteen
I knocked on Colt’s door a few hours later, my mind on everything that had happened that day. I tried to push it all away, but couldn’t relax like I wanted to.
The door opened after a beat, and then Colt was standing there, wearing cargo shorts and a fitted red T-shirt, his feet bare. The ends of his hair were wet, and I smiled a little at the realization that he had showered for our date.
“Hey,” I said.
He reached out and took my hand, pulling me against him, and gently kissing my lips. “How are you? You look like you had a hard day.”
I rested my head against his chest. “I did. Maggie came by the center. She decided to keep the baby.”
“That’s great, right?”
“I thought so. But then I offered to take her shopping and Tori got a little angry with me. Said I was getting too involved. Then another girl came by and her case . . . it’s just all so hard.”
“Do you think Tori’s right? About Maggie?”
I glanced up, hearing a change in Colt’s voice. Like he was treading lightly, careful not to offend me. “Do you?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. I know we talked about your fear of getting too involved, and while I do think it’s human nature to care, I wonder . . . I guess I wonder if this is smart . . . given your history. I mean, you’re in college, Kara, and your experience mirrors hers a little too closely, don’t you think? She needs a parent to help guide her. It sounded like her dad wanted to pull himself together for her.”
I set down my purse on his kitchen counter, a part of me offended that he thought I couldn’t handle it, but another part of me knew he was right. “I just feel for her, ya know? I—” My words caught as I turned around to face the common area. I could see notes of Taylor here and there. Photos framed on a shelf of him snowboarding and surfing and doing other things guys did on a board. But there were other things, too. A charcoal set on the third row of the shelf. A drawing pad on the end table beside the leather sofa.