Don't Go by L.J. Breedlove (series like harry potter txt) 📕

Ryan laughed too. “You mean the deer in the headlights look that says God I don’t want to be the one he turns to for advice? That look?”

J.J. grinned. “That’s the one.”

“A lot of people care about you,” Ryan said seriously. “And they don’t want to see you get hurt, especially right now. And Carroll? Carroll might not mean to hurt you, but you could still get hurt.”

J.J. nodded. “Carroll sees people differently. Sees the world differently. We went for a walk along the waterfront, and they point things out I miss completely. Or Carroll would make me look through my camera and frame things to see them. But when I say Carroll and I are friends, that’s because that’s how Carroll sees people. As individuals, as interesting. But the sex thing? It isn’t there. And that’s weird. It feels really weird. But it’s good too.”

“Good enough,” Ryan said, surprised a bit that J.J. understood better than most of those who worried about him. “But you’re not like Carroll. What happens if the ‘sex thing’ happens for you?”

J.J. shrugged. “I’ll talk to Carroll about it probably. Or ignore it. What do you do if you’re interested and they’re not? Or if they’re not into guys or something? It is what it is.”

Ryan nodded. “OK. Just promise me if you need advice about Carroll? Or any relationship? Go to Emily. Or Sarah. Or anyone but me.”

“Like those two have things figured out? Please.” J.J. went into his room, leaving Ryan wondering what he’d missed.

Maybe Cage knew.

After that, he was in a fairly good mood as he drove back through town and up the hill to Clarke’s clinic. But once there, he sat in his car, not sure he wanted to go inside. But he had a goal. Find Teresa, bring her back and make a home for her and their son. And he couldn’t do that until he got himself sorted out.

So, he took a deep breath and went inside. The nurse at the station was on the phone, but she gestured to the waiting room. Ryan started to sit, but found he was too anxious. He looked at the artwork on the walls, realizing it was all designed with adolescents in mind. It reminded him that Erica Clarke was a specialist in adolescents and child psychiatry. Well, maybe that was fitting. His friends would probably say he was suffering from a prolonged adolescence.

The doctor came striding out of the ward, her white coat flapping a bit. Ryan looked at her, seeing a middle-aged woman of medium height and graying brown hair. Huh. He’d thought her taller. Then he realized that was leakage from the vault as he’d taken to thinking of it. Dr. Clarke probably had seemed much taller to the 10-year-old Ryan.

Clarke saw him standing there and waved him into her office. “I apologize in advance,” she said. “I’m on call, as you know. So, if I have to go rushing out, we’ll reschedule. But you’re looking better than you were Thursday.”

Ryan started to sit in the chair facing the doctor’s desk, but Clarke shook her head and gestured to the couch. Ryan sat down in one corner and was surprised when Clarke sat in the chair kitty-corner to him. She had a folder on the small end table between chair and couch. It was not a thin file.

“What I’m about to do is so far outside professional guidelines that I don’t think there are even rules against it,” Erica Clarke said ruefully.

It made Ryan relax. “Doctor, in some ways you know me better than anyone, and in others? You don’t know me at all,” he said with a laugh. “Trust me, I’m the last person to criticize you for breaking the rules.”

“If we reach a point then, where you’ve had enough for the day, just say so,” Clarke said. “We can take this in stages. As fast or as slow as you need.”

“OK. There is some need for speed, however,” Ryan said. “You know I’ve custody of my son.”

Clarke nodded.

“And I may need to drop everything because of that and go after his mother. I’ll know more on Monday. I may not be able to take this slowly. I will just have to deal.”

Dr. Clarke studied him a moment, and then nodded. “As much as you’ve been through? If you’re this whole, you’ve earned the right to know. So, to start with, I called your grandmother back. I think it’s easier to refer to everyone by their biological roles to you, by the way. She sends her regards.”

Regards, Ryan thought bitterly.

“I have her verbal permission to share these files, although, they are your files. You are entitled to see them. You’re an adult. I made that clear to both of them.”

Something from that conversation hadn’t set well with the doctor, Ryan thought, as he watched a muscle twitched in the doctor’s jaw.

“Band-Aid off fast,” Ryan said smiling.

The doctor laughed. “OK, then. Let’s start with what do you want to know?”

“Why did my grandparents retire to San Diego, and I’ve never been included in their lives since then?” Ryan asked. He’d been thinking about questions ever since Thursday’s session, and that was one that he hadn’t been able to work out. He had thought they loved him, growing up, although he hadn’t been an easy person to raise. But he’d seen them exactly once in the last six years — on a trip they’d made to Portland.

With the exception of the Christmas break he spent with Teresa’s family; his holidays had been spent at the Washingtons. Along with Emily and whatever other strays the pastor and his wife had collected that year. But his family had money. He could have easily gone to San Diego for Christmas break. He had never been invited.

Dr. Clarke winced. “You don’t start with easy ones, do you?” She hesitated. “Can we come back to that one?”

“OK,” Ryan said. This wasn’t easy on the doctor either. “I talked to