Eternal by V. Forrest (primary phonics books .TXT) 📕

“I’m not going to stop seeing him.” Kaleigh rubbed under her eyes with the back of her wrist. “I’m not,” she repeated childishly. “Derek needs me.”

“He needs you?” Fia groaned. “Kaleigh, that’s got to be the oldest guy trick in the book. It’s just something men say to get what they want out of women.”

“He does need me. He doesn’t have anyone. You have no idea what kind of life he’s had.” She sniffed. “His mother committed suicide when he was six. In the bathtub in their house. Can you believe that? And Derek was the one who found her in a tub of blood.”

“That’s very sad,” Fia agreed. “But how about a father?” She didn’t want to sound heartless. She did feel sorry for the kid, for any kid who had gone through something like that. But a tragic childhood didn’t mean the boy wasn’t trying to get in Kaleigh’s jeans. “Surely he has a father.”

“Sort of. If you could call him that. He works like eighty hours a week. He never went to Derek’s soccer games or anything. He pretends like Derek doesn’t exist, except when he wants to yell at him.” The teen perched her hand on her slender, jutted hip. “It’s like he thinks it’s Derek’s fault his mom committed suicide.” She lifted her hand and let it fall. “Like that makes any sense. A six-year-old kid.”

Fia hesitated for a moment. Her intention really wasn’t to anger Kaleigh or to hurt her. She wasn’t so naïve as to not understand that these feelings Kaleigh had for this human, no matter how misguided or doomed they were, were real. All she wanted was to keep Kaleigh, to keep everyone in the sept safe.

In the end, Fia decided that she’d probably chastised Kaleigh enough for one night; from what she had heard, the other women had done the same with Katy and Maria. She let the subject drop. “Let’s take care of the fire and then we’ll take you girls back to town,” Fia said, scuffing dirt toward the center of the campfire.

“Sure,” Kaleigh responded sarcastically. “Whatever you say, Agent Kahill.”

Tuesday evening, Fia was back on Dr. Kettleman’s leather couch. They’d bumped her sessions back up to once a week, “just until some of the stress was alleviated.”

“So would you say it was a good weekend?”

Fia thought for a moment and caught herself smiling, remembering sitting on Sorcha’s front porch in the old, battered, Adirondack chairs, listening to the crash of the incoming tide and toasting to each other with apple martinis. “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “It was.”

“Old friendships renewed? Fences mended?”

Fia shifted her gaze to Dr. Kettleman’s. “Something like that.”

“Did it feel good to be home as a member of the community rather than as a law-enforcement agent?”

“I think so,” Fia said slowly. “Sunday I went to Mass and then had breakfast with my mom. It wasn’t even that painful.”

“And your father?”

“He never misses Mass.” Looking down, Fia fiddled with her signet ring. “But then he had his coffee with the newspaper on the front porch. I didn’t really see him after that.”

“You can’t change how he feels, Fia, you know that,” Dr. Kettleman offered, following one of her long moments of silence. “Only how you react to his behavior. How you feel about it.”

Fia dropped her hands to her lap. “I know.”

The psychiatrist shifted in her chair. “So while we’re on the subject of your men, what’s happening on the Joseph front?”

“Not sure.”

Dr. Kettleman waited.

Fia allowed her gaze to drift to the diplomas on the wall behind Kettleman’s desk, then back. “I met him last week. He admitted he’d gotten in to a “little problem” in California and that’s why he’s decided to relocate. At least part of the reason.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“How do I feel? It pisses me off. We had an agreement. And…it scares me a little.”

“Because you still have feelings for him?” Kettleman prodded.

Fia took her time before answering. There was no sense shelling out big bucks each week if she wasn’t going to at least attempt to do more than go through the motions. “No. I’m not in love with him anymore, if that’s what you mean. But do I feel guilty? Sure. Do I not want him around to make me feel guilty? Of course.” That’s only human, she thought, ironically. Hesitated. “The thing is, Dr. Kettleman, with our history, Joseph’s and mine, we wouldn’t be good for each other. Maybe we’d even be dangerous.”

The psychiatrist let the word hang in the air for a moment. “And Joseph disagrees?”

“I don’t know what he thinks.” She groaned. “He’s hard to read. A real player. Then he’s got this little problem. Addiction, of course. I actually suggested he should come talk to you. Maybe you could help.”

“Maybe the two of you might benefit from a joint session.”

Fia scowled. “That’s what he said.”

Yet again, the shrink silence. The clock on the end table beside the couch ticked.

“I’ll consider it,” Fia finally conceded.

“I think that’s wise, because what we’ve hit on today, yet again, is your guilt for what happened between you and Joseph. I don’t think you realized until he came back just how heavy that guilt weighs on you still, after all this time.” Silence. “You know, eventually you’re going to have to figure out a way to forgive yourself,” Dr. Kettleman said gently.

Fia looked down at her signet ring and spun it. Guilt, was it? Well, she certainly had plenty of that. Guilt over Ian. Over Joseph. The chains were pretty heavy around her neck…

Fia glanced at the clock. “Guess our time is up.”

Dr. Kettleman didn’t look at the clock, but continued to watch Fia. “It is. So you’ll think about bringing Joseph in with you?”

Fia rose, smoothing the wrinkles of her suit jacket. “I’ll think about it.”

Fia knew when she left Kettleman’s office that she was going out tonight. Not to look for Joseph. Not even to stalk. She just didn’t want to go home. Not by