Dry as Rain Read Free Page A

guilty about, she’d find a way to blame me for this as well. If it rained when the weatherman called for sunshine, she’d find a way to pin it on me.
    Still, being contentious was a long way from being insane. What on earth could have made them think she belonged here? I pressed the chewed gum from my lips back into its wrapper, balled it up, and tucked it in my pocket. I knew our separation and Benji’s enlistment affected her more than she’d let on . . . but a breakdown?
    This was a woman who was as grounded as they came. Her no-nonsense approach to life was one of the things I’d loved best about her. What must she be going through at this very moment? Probably wondering if she died and woke up in hell. I gritted my teeth, knowing that last night I’d given up any rights as her protector.
    Sheets of sunlight streamed in through the generous windows at my back, but they did nothing to warm me. Across from the waiting area, the receptionist with unnaturally black hair sat behind glass, answering phones and glancing every few seconds at a security monitor. When my eyes met hers, she cleared her throat and glared at my tapping foot. Feeling no desire to appease her, I closed my eyes and continued the rhythm.
    After a few minutes, someone said my name and I looked up. A fiftysomething-year-old man gave a quick bow of head and held out his hand. I had grown used to the stereotypical greeting, though it still annoyed me. Ignoring the bow, I stood to shake his hand and was disappointed to find he beat me in stature by a good two to three inches. The calloused hand I shook was that of a laborer, not the professional it was attached to. His grip was firm. I made sure mine was firmer.
    â€œI’m Dr. Hershing.”
    â€œEric Yoshida.” As I let go, I noticed his left hand did not sport a wedding band.
    â€œLet’s talk privately, Eric.”
    The unearned familiarity of addressing me by my first name made me feel an instant dislike for him. It also didn’t help that he was fit, besides being a doctor. Women were suckers for success, and Kyra was no exception. Although he’d have a hard time impressing her even if he’d been the surgeon general. The thing with Kyra was that she was never satisfied.
    I followed him down a long, white corridor. We walked by a line of small offices. A face in each one glanced up as we passed. At the end of the hallway, a door stood open and the doctor motioned for me to enter.
    A polished wood conference table took up most of the rectangular room. In the center of it lay a scattered pile of miniature tissue boxes, a few legal pads, and some plastic pens. The room smelled strongly of alcohol. A glance at a small desk pushed against the farthest wall explained why. An open bottle of rubbing alcohol sat beside a mannequin cut off at the waist. The space must have recently doubled as a training room for CPR.
    Tucked under the conference table were tall, fabric-covered chairs. I took the one at the head of the table. The doctor raised his eyebrows but said nothing. After taking the seat across from me, he slid a pad and pen over to himself. He flipped the top page and tilted it toward himself, away from my line of vision.
    I leaned my clasped hands on the table. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?”
    He scribbled something.
    I felt my face flush. “What are you writing already?”
    Hershing smiled. “I just remembered my mother asked me to bring home coffee filters.”
    I squinted at him. One thing I couldn’t stand was being patronized.
    He studied me a moment. “You don’t believe me.” He turned the pad around to reveal the two words he claimed to have written. “Sorry. If I don’t write things down, I forget them. She’ll have my hide if she doesn’t get her java in the morning.”
    I felt like I’d been deliberately played for a fool, but of course I would just look paranoid if