She nodded. “Right. I just...”
“What?”
“I won’t be here for the entire four weeks he’s scheduled. Is it smart to let him get invested in me as a counselor?”
He leaned against the door frame and considered her, his mind working frantically but with absolute clarity. “I’d rather let it play out and see where it’s going to go in the time we have. If we work together, we might be able to stop his behavior from escalating.” Pausing, he considered how much to say, how much to offer her, and settled with “I want him out of that lifestyle, Grace.”
“You want to save the world,” she mused.
“I’m not sure about the world, but a kid... I want Gavin out of Deuce-8.”
“It’s personal, isn’t it.”
Her statement was so matter-of-fact, so nonquestioning and nonjudgmental, that he found himself fighting not to let the truth pour out, to open up to her about his descent into darkness. The words were there, parked on the tip of his tongue, held in check only by pride and fear. He’d overcome his past, but it would always be there. Tattoo cover-up jobs were great, but beneath his ink lay a tattoo identical to the one Gavin sported—the deuce with two dots parallel to the point and a sideways figure eight between them.
No, now wasn’t the time to confess past transgressions to Grace. That time might never come. All the more reason to keep his mouth shut now when emotions were running high.
“Justin?”
His chin snapped up. “Let’s wrap this one up. We’ve got another appointment in thirty minutes. Sixteen-year-old girl with suicidal ideation.”
The glow in Grace’s face faded. “I’ll be ready.”
Without another word, he left the room. She was too much of a temptation in so many ways. And her quick statement that she wouldn’t be here for Gavin’s full four-week counseling assignment... It had stolen his breath, made his mind go blank. He rubbed clammy palms over his thighs. He had to make her see that staying, taking the risk, was worth it.
That he was worth it.
11
GRACE DREW THE tattoos she’d been able to see with as much detail as she could remember, but her mind was wandering. Why had Justin let her, as a brand-new graduate, take the lead in the therapy room? Sure, he was also a new grad, but he had his doctorate. She only had her master’s. Not bad, but definitely not comparable to a PhD. Big difference in practical theory and clinical exposure. He’d seen patients on campus and had assisted in running trials for the psychology department. Still, this was different. This was his first real job.
Her hand stilled mid-design. This wasn’t Justin’s first real job, though. He’d worked as a stripper and as a teaching assistant for the university for years. He’d worked far longer than she’d given him credit for, at least initially. She’d dismissed his work history as inconsequential, and that was incredibly unfair. She had been so busy holding him at arm’s length personally that she had dismissed him professionally. He deserved better than that, deserved credit for his efforts and experience. That knowledge didn’t make it any easier to accept his praise, though.
And what about the personal aspect? Hadn’t she dismissed him just as effectively in her private life? That he might actually care about her on some genuine level terrified her. So, yeah. She might have dismissed him out of hand.