We'll Never Be Apart Read Free

low. He’s noticed me staring at him. His eyes crinkle at the corners. He laughs, low and sexy, takes off his baseball hat, and smoothes a hand over his mussed blond hair.
    My cheeks grow hot with embarrassment, and the guilt I feel is almost as immediate as my body’s response. For one split second I forget about Jason’s cinnamon breath, the curve of his smile, and the touch of his callused fingers. All because of this stranger whose eyes make me feel all lit up inside. I bite the inside of my cheek,
hard.
The boy passes me, leaving behind the scent of clean laundry.
    The door beside me opens and the nurse reappears.
    â€œAll right, Alice, the doctor will see you now.”
    I push off the wall, keeping my eyes on the boy’s retreating back. Just as I’m about to enter the office, he stops, glances over his shoulder, and smiles at me. Intimately. Like he’s happy to see me. Like I’ve just made his day. He smiles as if he knows me. And I get an odd sense of déjà vu. (Jason would say it was a glitch in the matrix.) I can’t seem to shake the feeling that he actually looks familiar. That I’ve seen his face before. That I know him, too.
    Â 
    The doctor’s office is cluttered. Shelves and file cabinets, bursting with books and stacks of paper, line the walls. It’s like I’ve been sucked into a vortex and I’m standing in Dumbledore’s office.
I wish.
I also wish I didn’t know this office so well. But I do. Dr. Goodman stands in the middle of the room. He’s young, with thin wire-rimmed glasses. I always thought he looked like the kind of guy who doesn’t own a TV. He holds a thick file between his pasty hands. My file.
    â€œHello, Alice,” he says. He waits, as if he expects me to say something. I don’t know why he would, based on our past history of awkward, semi-silent therapy sessions. “It’s nice to see you again.” He crosses the room and extends a hand for me to shake.
    I look down at his open palm and my hands twitch inside the pockets of my hoodie. I like the way the fleece lining feels, soft like a teddy bear. I remove a hand, shake his, and then quickly stuff mine back in my sweatshirt.
    â€œPlease, have a seat,” he says, motioning to an armchair. He addresses the nurse, who hovers in the doorway. “I think we can take it from here, Ms. Dummel.”
    Nurse Dummel puckers her lips. I wonder if she knows that her face looks like an asshole when she does that. She gives me a long, lingering gaze before nodding her head. “All right, Dr. Goodman. Donny’ll be coming back to escort her to her room. He’ll be right outside the door if you need him.”
    â€œI’m sure we’ll be fine,” Doc says. The nurse gives me one more assessing glance, like I’m a downed power line throwing off sparks, then leaves, shutting the door behind her.
    I settle into the chair and Doc sits across from me. A heavy silence stretches between us. Doc crosses his legs, adjusts his tie, clears his throat. He picks up a yellow legal pad and a pen from the table next to his chair. “I’m happy to see you, Alice. It looks as though you’re recovering well.” I wait for him to get to the point. Usually our meetings follow an agenda. Sharing feelings. Exposing secrets. Talking about the past.
    â€œDo you know why you’re here, Alice? Do you know why you’ve been returned to the hospital?”
    Images surface. Pictures of my great escape with Jason. Spirals of stairs. Murky water. A red barn at night. But the memory is like water slipping through my fist. My voice is quiet as I speak. “There was a fire.”
    Doc jots something down. “Tell me about that night, Alice. The night you left the hospital.”
    I knot my fingers in my lap and stare down at them, still unable to meet Doc’s eyes. After a while, my gaze shifts toward the window. Outside, the sky is overcast