Released (Caged #3)(38)

“Will you follow me in there?” I asked him. “I mean—make sure I go through with it, ya know?”

“Of course, Mr. Teague.”

“We should go early, too,” I added. “I don’t want to be late.”

Damon drove me to the office building and parked the car across from the hospital where Baynor worked. I took a few deep breaths as he held the door open and waited for me to get out of the car. Every time I started to move to the outside, my muscles seized up.

“Don’t let me chicken out,” I said quietly. I rubbed my fingertips into my eyes and huffed out a breath.

“There is plenty of time, Mr. Teague,” Damon said. “You have a good five minutes before I actually drag you out of the back seat.”

I chuckled at the visual and then continued with the deep breathing until I felt as if I was going to hyperventilate.

“Mr. Teague?” Damon stood there, his face showing nothing but compassion for me.

“I know,” I said, practically jumping down his throat. I immediately apologized.

“You still have plenty of time,” Damon told me.

“This just…sucks,” I mumbled.

“Of course it does, Mr. Teague.” He crouched down to my level and stared me right in the eyes. “Liam—it’s what you have to do for Tria and your coming child.”

I swallowed once and nodded at him. Damon stood up straight and took a step backward with his hand still on the car door. Before I could lose my nerve, I moved quickly to twist in the seat and put my feet on the pavement. One more breath and I pushed myself out of the car and forced myself to walk up the sidewalk to the building entrance and beyond.

It was freaking hot that day, and I had opted for my sleeveless muscle shirt and some cargo shorts that had belonged to Ryan, but it wasn’t helping. I still had sweat dripping between my shoulder blades before I got to the door. It was just before one in the afternoon, and the therapist was apparently not back from lunch yet. Even though I was early, the receptionist said I could wait in Ms. Chambers’ office while Damon waited for me in the lobby.

There was no doubt that I was nervous, and having to wait in the shrink’s office by myself wasn’t helping. There was a large bay window that overlooked the parking lot and a sad, dwarf plum tree. There was a pile of books on a bookshelf that looked like most of the self-help section of Barnes and Noble, a couple of wingback chairs, and a couch.

Of course there was a couch.

The whole set up was obviously intended to make a patient feel calm, which made me really nervous. Frankly, I thought Yolanda might be right—ten years was a long time. What could yakking about this shit really do for me now?

Maybe she’d get me some good drugs.

No, she probably wouldn’t—recovering addict and all.

So what could she really do for me? Was I supposed to talk enough to cause a panic attack? If I talked enough and panicked enough, would I eventually run out of attacks? Could it kill me if I had too many?

What the f*ck was a panic attack, anyway? And post-traumatic stress—what the f*ck did any of that shit mean? I thought that was just for guys who served in wars overseas.

I looked out the window at the little tree and wondered if I could climb down it and get the f*ck away before either the doctor or Damon figured out what I had done. I probably didn’t have time, but the window did look like it would open easily enough.

I touched the cool glass and then moved down to the brass handle.

“Nice ink,” a female voice said from behind me.

I turned around and looked into the pale blue eyes of Erin, the woman I met in the laundromat. It was the same chick who had—before I hooked up with Tria—followed me to Feet First. We had drinks. I dragged her back to the locker room for a quick f*ck, but things didn’t exactly work out.

“Well, this is going to be a little awkward,” Erin said as she tossed her long, straight blonde hair over her shoulder.

“You have to be f*cking kidding me,” I mumbled.

“I should have recognized your name,” she said with a sigh. “I’m sorry, I could have avoided this.”

“What do you mean, avoided it?”

“I can’t do this, Liam,” she said. “I can’t treat you. Though it wasn’t much, we do have a little…history. It wouldn’t be appropriate. I’ll have to call around and find someone else who can work with you.”

No. Shit no! I couldn’t let that happen. I’d barely made it this far.

Just getting to this office had been painful enough. If I had to start all over again—make another appointment, get to the building, go into the office—I’d never make it. It would delay everything, too. I had to get better as quickly as possible for Tria and…and the baby.

I couldn’t let her just brush me off, not for such a stupid f*cking reason.

“If we’d f*cked, I could see your point,” I said, “but we didn’t. As I recall, my dick didn’t work for you, so let’s just forget it and get going with this.”

“We can’t, Liam.”

“Why not?”

“I’m attracted to you,” she said bluntly.

“Well, I’m taken,” I replied. “So it doesn’t f*cking matter.”

Erin sighed and leaned back in her chair. She shook her head slowly as she reached for the phone, but I wouldn’t let her blow me off that easily. I moved forward and placed my hand over the keypad of her desk phone before she could start dialing.