“So, I’d like to go around and introduce ourselves.” Dr. Whyte gave an encouraging smile. “Why don’t you start first, Cassie?”
Cassie twirled a strand of her long, brown hair. “I’ve been here for, um, about three months.” She tapped her foot nervously against the chair leg. “My doctor thought it was time for me to start group therapy before I’m released.”
“We’re happy to have you, Cassie.” She nodded to the next person.
“Tessa.” The young girl rubbed her nose. “Sorry, I got a cold. Anyways, I’m on a bunch of drugs so I don’t flip out.” She sniffed miserably. “Kidding. Not about the drugs. I am on a bunch of drugs. I won’t flip out though. My doctor says I’m making progress.”
“Welcome, Tessa.” She turned her attention to a well-muscled man sitting out of the circle. “Would you like to introduce yourself?”
“Name’s Adam.” He assessed everyone carefully. “Been in and out of this damn place more times than I can count.”
His gaze settled on Moira. It was the same man she had seen in the hall the other day, the one she’d felt drawn to. Something about his eyes made her heart skip a beat. He’s even better looking up close, she thought. Damn.
“I understand there were some issues with your medication?” Dr. Whyte asked.
“My medication gave me headaches.” Adam leaned forward and gave Dr. Whyte a pointed look. “And I don’t need it.”
Now Moira knew what it was. Adam’s eyes were two different colors. One was brown, while the other was an icy green. Jack caught her staring, and she felt her cheeks warm.
“Have you discussed this with your doctor, Adam?”
“You know I have. Don’t ask stupid questions.”
Dr. Whyte looked away carefully and gave Moira a nod indicating it was her turn.
“My name is Moira,” she said. “I’ve been here about a month. My doctor felt I would benefit from some group therapy.”
Dr. Whyte breathed a sigh of relief. “What do you hope to take away from this support group, Moira?”
She didn’t ask anyone else that, Moira thought nervously. “I don’t know. What am I supposed to take away from it?”
Adam guffawed.
“Well,” Dr. Whyte said, “my hope is that you won’t feel so isolated in your experiences. That’s why we call it a support group, rather than therapy. We’ll also be learning some tools that will enable us to check in with our moods and thoughts.”
“Check in with our moods and thoughts,” Adam scoffed. “How about checking out? That would make my mood and thoughts considerably better.”
“And this would be a step in the right direction,” Dr. Whyte replied. “That, and staying on your medication.”
“Whatever.” Adam caught Moira staring and gave her an unabashed grin.
Unable to stop herself, she returned it before looking away.
After the group session, which mainly consisted of everyone talking about their problems, Moira made her way to the door. Adam stopped her.
“I see them, you know.”
Something about him felt like a coiled spring. Moira casually took a step away. “See who?” She hadn’t said much during session other than she heard voices sometimes.
“Those two.” His gaze flicked behind her. He closed the gap and lowered his voice. “They’re stuck until they move on.”
She didn’t know which of his mismatched eyes to look at so she settled for the brown one. “How are they going to do that?”
“Mine won’t go away either.” He stared her down relentlessly. “Same tune, different song. They can’t help us here, you know.”
“Dr. Whyte said you’d been here six times.”
“Dr. Whyte says a lot of things. She’s paid to talk.”
“Have you?”
“Have I what?”
“Been here six times?”
“Five, six…seventh’s the charm, isn’t it?” He grinned at her.
She made an impatient sound.
“It’s not by choice,” he said, more serious this time. “I see what I see.”
“I’m…sorry.”
“Yeah, well…” He ran his hand alongside of dark stubble on his chin, eyes flicking behind her once again. “You got some of your own to worry about.” His attention settled on Moira again. “I’d be careful, if I were you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can feel how pissed off they are,” he said. “You don’t want to end up like Tessa.”
She glanced over her shoulder. Tessa still sat in her chair, staring blankly at them.
“Don’t let her fool you.” He gave Tessa a wink and dropped his voice. “She’s got scars on her wrists. She’ll get out of here one way or another.” He raised an eyebrow. “You want to have dinner together?”
His question took her off guard. Well, more off-guard than the whole conversation. “Um…well, I’m—”
“Busy? You got other plans? A hot date?”
Her mouth twitched as she tried not to smile. “No.”
“Then we can have dinner together. I hate eating with the crazies in here.”
Me too, she thought. But she agreed anyways. It was kind of nice to talk to someone other than Dr. Cassano. Even if they were crazy.
* * *
They got their food and sat at one of the dining room tables in the corner. Moira pretended not to notice a couple of raised eyebrows from the other patients.
“How long have you been able to see them?”
“Who?”
“Your ghosts.”
“For a while,” Moira replied vaguely.
Adam picked up his dinner roll and took a large bite. “My guess is longer than just ‘a while.’”
Moira’s attention was captured again by his green eye, so sharply contrasting his brown one. He was almost too intense to look at. Almost.
“How did you get the scratches?” His gaze settled on her cheek.
“One of the other patients started a fight,” she said, covering her cheek with her hand. “I guess she doesn’t like me.”
“What’s not to like? You seem okay to me.”
Oddly, his statement made her stomach do a flip-flop. “Thanks.”
“You know how some people are, quick to judge.” He dropped his fork and bent to retrieve it.
Moira pictured herself reaching over and brushing back the lock of dark hair that fell across his forehead. She glanced nervously over her shoulder. Jack and Isabella were strangely silent. Isabella was probably just trying to figure out what childish thing she could say, but Jack…she knew that Jack was sizing Adam up; he did it with every man she came into contact with. And she knew he wouldn’t appreciate her noticing how handsome Adam was either.
“I’m sure they upped her meds,” Adam said as he tossed the fork onto the table again. “This place sucks. It won’t do a damn thing but make you spill your guts, drive you crazy or turn you into a zombie. Last pills they sent me home with made me feel like my skull was being split with a meat cleaver.”
“So you stopped taking them?”
“Yep.”
“How did you end up back here?”
“My brother called the cops. Lying asshole, I should be used to it by now,” Adam muttered. “I was staying with him until I got my shit together, but he walked in on me as I was flushing my pill down the toilet and freaked out.” A look of distress crossed his face. “Whatever, I’ll be out soon enough.” He finished his roll and started on an apple. “What did your doctor put you on? Who is your doctor anyways?”
“Um, he hasn’t put me on anything yet. I see Dr. Cassano.”
“Ahh, Dr. Cassano.” He raised an eyebrow. “I hear the nurses talking about him all the time.”
“He’s nice enough.”
“I see Dr. Leo. He’s an asshole.” He spit out the bite of his apple and without getting up, tossed the rest of it into the garbage, basketball style. “Have you spoken to your ghosts about leaving?”
“I’ve …tried.”
“They won’t?”
“No.”
“You want me to ask them for you?”
“Seriously?” She stayed an initial surge of hopefulness and reminded herself that Adam was in here because he was crazy. Not like her at all.
“I can try.”
He settled back and stared right at Isabella. That’s a fluke, she thought. He just picked an empty spot next to me.
“You need to go,” Adam said simply. “Moira doesn’t want you around her.” He waited a beat. “Wow, she’s hostel. Kids can be such brats. I’ll try your other one.”
He looked right at where Jack stood. The other empty spot next to me, she reminded herself.
“Leave. Your time is done, tall guy. You have no business being here anymore.”
She felt Jack’s presence crackle with anger.
“He’s even more hostel than she is,” Adam said. “Sucks for you.”
Moira felt her hopes deflate. Well, it’s not as if he can really see them, she thought. “Thanks anyways.”
He aimed his plastic cup towards the trash and tossed it. It missed and rolled towards the kitchen door. “Damn. No points for me.”
The cook leaned out the kitchen door and waved his ladle at them. “Stop tossing your garbage everywhere, you’re getting milk on the floor. Somebody’s got to mop that up.”
“I hate that a culinary genius like you has to do that,” Adam called back with a straight face.
“Smart ass,” the cook replied. “You lucky I don’t spit in your food.”
Adam held his hands up in mock surrender. “I know you say that with love, Nathan.” He picked up his tray. “See you around.”
Moira watched him swagger away. It suddenly dawned on her that she hadn’t mentioned Isabella was a child or said anything about Jack.
Lucky guess.