Melt (Steel Brothers Saga #4)(14)

At no time during the six months I treated her had she given me any reason to indicate that she was suicidal. What had I missed? Had I not asked the right questions? Had I not read between the lines as I should have? And how could I have not realized she had feelings of love for me? How had I missed that?

Developing feelings for one’s therapist was very normal. I’d had it happen before in my career. It had been with a man, and I had nipped it in the bud right away and sent him to another therapist—just like I was going to do with Jonah Steel. Was it because Gina was a woman that I hadn’t seen it coming? And did the fact that she’d fallen in love with me have anything to do with how she presented herself? Perhaps she’d wanted to look good for me, and she put on an act so I wouldn’t realize she was suicidal.

I sighed. Gina had been through hell. But so had Talon Steel, and he wasn’t suicidal. So had most of my patients, and very few were suicidal. But Gina had been, and I hadn’t seen it.

A good therapist should have been able to tell. Frantically I searched the file, looking for something—anything—I had missed.

I eyed the cordless phone on my night table. So many times I’d been tempted to pick it up and call Gina’s parents, to offer my apology. I’d tried a few days after her death, but her mother had refused to take my call, and I’d been advised by counsel not to contact them again.

I had never been sued before, and I had no reason to believe I would be now.

Of its own accord, my hand reached for the phone. It was eight p.m., not too late to call. Without thinking, I dialed the number of Gina’s parents in Denver.

“Hello?” a masculine voice said.

I quickly ended the call.

What had I been thinking? I stuffed the papers back into Gina’s file. I got up. Maybe a nice warm bath would help. I stripped off my clothes, put on a robe, and was heading toward my bathroom door when my phone rang.

A quick look at the caller ID, and my heart sank. The number I’d just called. Shit. What had I done? I couldn’t ignore the call. Well, I could, but they could easily find out who the number belonged to. No, best to deal with the consequences now.

I picked up the cordless. “Hello?”

“Yes.” A throat cleared. “We just got a call from this number?”

“Is this Mr. Cates?”

“Dr. Cates, yes.”

Right. He had a Ph.D. in linguistics. “I’m sorry to disturb you. This is Melanie Carmichael. I was your daughter Gina’s therapist. Yes, I did try calling earlier, but the call didn’t go through. I thought I would try again in the morning.” I bit my lip, hoping he’d buy the lie.

“What is it that you want, Dr. Carmichael?”

I cleared my throat this time. “I just wanted to check in with you and your wife. See if there was anything I could do for you.”

“We are doing as well as can be expected. The loss of our daughter has been hard to bear.”

“I’m sure it has been. It’s been weighing heavily on my mind as well. I’m so very sorry for your loss.”

“Yes, I’m sure you are.”

What was that supposed to mean? I had no idea. This call had been a mistake. I knew better than to let my emotions get the better of me. “Gina was a very special person.” I bit my lip. I wanted to say that she was in a better place, that she was happier now, free of the burdens of this life, but I didn’t know what his beliefs were, and I wasn’t sure I believed that stuff myself. Instead I said, “If there’s anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to let me know. I apologize for intruding on your evening. Good night.”

Dr. Cates said nothing, so I ended the call.

Gina hadn’t left a suicide note other than the letter she sent to me. I hadn’t shared that with her parents, and they hadn’t asked for anything from me. Should I have told them about the letter? It was personal, not part of the record, and I was not obligated to divulge it to them. Plus, I wasn’t sure how they would feel about their daughter falling in love with her female therapist. She told me herself she had only dated men, so they probably had no idea she was gay or bisexual.

If only I could go back—go back and do something differently—Gina might be alive today.

But there was no going back. Like Jonah Steel, I was filled with guilt. Filled with a case of the “what ifs.” How many times had I told my patients not to play the “what if” game? It was damned good advice, too. Still, I couldn’t help playing the game myself. What if I had done something differently? What if I had seen that she was harboring feelings for me? What if I had seen something to indicate she was suicidal?

But I hadn’t.

And I couldn’t go back in time, as much as I wished to.



A couple of days later, when Randi gave me my schedule for the day, I widened my eyes.

“Jonah Steel?”

“Yeah. He called yesterday, and you had an opening because Macy Andrews canceled at the last minute. So I slipped him in.”

“Okay.” I had neglected to tell Randi not to schedule him again. Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it. I figured he wouldn’t call after the last time. “I won’t be seeing him as a patient anymore, but there was no reason for you to know that. I’ll call him myself and cancel.”

“I’m happy to do that for you, Dr. Carmichael.”