Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
They ended up in the study with the door closed. Someone—Cat, likely—got some music going loud down the hall to help cover their voices and buy them a bit of privacy. Jean should have told her not to bother. Just because he had to meet with this man didn’t mean he had to speak to him. He spent the next thirty minutes staring at the doctor in stony silence, patiently outlasting every attempt to bait him into conversation. By the fifteen-minute mark he could sense the other man’s impatience, but somehow the doctor lasted the entire session without giving up.
“You had the chance to make this painless,” the doctor said as he finally got ready to go. He dropped his business card on the desk in front of Jean. “You’ve forced my hand with your hostility and unwillingness to cooperate. I’m recommending mandatory counseling twice a week. Figure out which days and time slots will work best around summer practices and let me know by the end of tomorrow. My office location and hours are on my card.”
“I won’t,” Jean said.
“You will, or I will have your coaches make a decision for you.”
Jean tore his card into scraps as the doctor started for the door. It earned him an assessing look but no comment. Jean refused to watch him go, but his thoughts teetered in anxious circles as he looked for a way out of this. In no universe could he defy his coaches, but how could he possibly stand meeting with this wretched know-nothing twice a week?
He hadn’t sorted out a way out by the time Jeremy stepped into the doorway to check on him, but Jean still said, “I won’t do it.”
“I can’t get you out of it,” Jeremy said. “But if you don’t like him, we can always find you a different doctor. He can’t be the only one on USC’s payroll. I’m sure you’ll click with one of them. It just might take a bit of trial and error.”
“There is nothing I can say to them,” Jean said. He couldn’t talk about the Moriyamas; he wouldn’t talk about what he’d endured. Perhaps he could fill the silence talking about his teammates, but how long would the doctors tolerate that deflection before they got his coaches involved? “None of them will understand.”
“Someone will,” Jeremy promised.
No one in the world, Jean thought sullenly, and it haunted his thoughts for the rest of the day. It wasn’t until his phone hummed with an incoming message later that afternoon that he finally put it together. One moment he was looking down at Renee’s text and the picture she’d sent him of her backyard deer; in the next moment realization left him dizzy with desperate hope. This wasn’t a good solution by far, but it was still the best one he could think of.
Jean tapped out a quick message to Renee: “Do you have Dobson’s number?” He’d deleted it from his phone weeks ago, sure he’d never have to use it.
Renee didn’t ask why but forwarded him Dobson’s contact card to save to his phone. Jean wavered between her cell and office numbers before deciding he really didn’t want to hear her voice for this conversation. Text was a safer medium to start with, but a half-dozen tries later he still didn’t know what to say. He cast his phone aside in frustrated defeat and didn’t try again until dinner was in the oven that night.
“USC ordered me to find a counselor,” was the best he finally came up with, and he sent it before he could second-guess himself yet again. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that he realized he didn’t sign it. Maybe Wymack had given her his number when he programmed hers into his, because Dobson came back with an unhesitating,
“Hello, Jean! I would be happy to make an appointment with you.”
He couldn’t say the same, but she was his only option. If Kevin had told the Foxes about Evermore and the Moriyamas, then it was safe to assume he’d extended his indiscretion to his shrink. Jean couldn’t imagine telling her such things—or anything, really—but she had the necessary groundwork to understand his dishonesty and reticence. It was more than he would get from anyone else.
“It was not my choice,” he sent back in warning. “I do not need counseling.”
“We will make the best of it,” she promised. “Thank you for trusting me with your time.”
He didn’t trust her at all, but there was no point spelling it out. Hashing out a schedule took only a little bit of work, as she had her appointment book with her at home and Jeremy could provide the start and end times for the Trojans’ summer practices. The only trick was remembering the time zone difference.
Jean had to go back to Jeremy halfway through the conversation for Coach Rhemann’s contact information, since Dobson offered to reach out to him on Jean’s behalf and square things away, but at last he had days and times locked in. Jean didn’t feel any better about the ordeal, but at least he wouldn’t have to see that annoying man from earlier ever again.