Page 20 of Mask and the Magnolia
“True.” I nod as I finish penciling him in. “Are we satisfied, then?”
Magnolia leans in close again, her face inches from mine while she looks at my desk calendar, and it takes everything in me not to inhale her scent.I swear to god I’m reacting to her similarly to the way an alpha would and I have no idea why.
“I think this will work.” She sits back in her chair with a sigh. “I know that was a lot, between treatments and scheduling, but is that really all we’re going to do today?”
I can’t help but smile a little as I turn to face her. “It is.”
“And we aren’t going to get into individual sessions until next week?”
“I’m afraid not. I think it’s going to be important for the new residents to get a feel for their surroundings and settle in somebefore we start diving into things. This is drastically different from what they’re used to.”
“I know.” Magnolia gets to her feet then starts moving the wingback around the desk to where it was when she came in. “And it’ll be important to see how they do this first week before therapy starts, I guess I’m just excited.”
“I am as well, but as you said, there is a level of importance that comes with doing things this way. Testing patience and boundaries, acclimating after such a big transition. All rather critical but it won’t be long before we’re diving in feet first.”
She looks at me just as I settle back against my chair, those blue eyes bright with the excitement she referred to. “Are you leaving campus for dinner?”
I frown. “Pardon?”
“It’s about that time,” she says with a smile. “I was going to possibly head into town for something to eat and thought?—“
“No,” I nearly bark like an asshole before changing my tone. “I appreciate the offer, but no. I’m still moving in and planned to have something sent up while I did so.”
“Sure. Right. That was silly. Of course you’re busy.” She avoids looking at me as she quickly gathers her things, my stomach twisting over the obvious change in her demeanor. “I have a lot to do, too. Unpacking. Cleaning.”
I get to my feet as Magnolia moves toward the door. “Ms. Reynolds, I?—“
“It’s probably against the rules or something, anyway. Have a good night, Dr. Lowe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Then she slips out of my office and I’m left standing there like an idiot, wondering how the hell I’m going to navigate this without breaking the very rules I’ve lived by my entire life, just so I can share one intimate, unguarded moment with the only woman to ever make me want to do that.
FOUR
TURN AND FACE THE STRANGE
KORVIN
Repositioning myself against the wall, I watch closely as two men dressed in all white carry a large leather sofa from the direction of reception toward the center of the ward where the three hallways meet.
Based on the few and brief interactions I’ve had since coming here, I know they aren’t taking it to the staff apartments. Those are in the opposite direction and behind multiple card accessed doors, which means the little pamphlet we got wasn’t some drawn up bullshit to put usnew residentsat ease, and they’re actually making some sort of common room.
I look around my cell,myapartment as the guards have been calling it, and wonder how the hell I got here.
When I got locked up all those years ago, I didn’t think I’d ever be anywhere but a maximum security prison, stuck in a 6’ by 8’ twenty three hours a day until I finally kicked the bucket. Then one day, I go to my court mandated therapy session and the doc asks me if I’ve ever heard of Blackhurst Ridge.
Who the fuck hasn’t?
Everyone who’s lived in Illinois for more than twenty minutes knows about this place. The old asylum has quite thereputation between its history and current standing, and the fact that it’s been the center of dozens of ghost stories I’ve heard since I was a kid is the icing on the cake.
I have no idea why I’m here, though.
Then again, maybe I do.
I’ve never once admitted to what I was locked up for, neveraccepted responsibilityfor my actions, and I guess maybe by some standards, that makes me certifiable. I’ve owned up to killing my mother, copped to Charles Harden’s death, and I’ve even blatantly confessed to killing multiple cell mates over the years, but beyond that, I won’t claim any bodies I didn’t rightfully earn. Fuck that. Murderer or not, I won’t fucking lie, no matter what kind of deal anyone thought they could get me. Not that it would have worked, anyway. The Harden’s had a wide fucking reach, and there was no point in wasting my time trying to convince anyone I was innocent when they were being told I was guilty by someone with the power and influence to make them believe it.
Which is why it’s so fucking weird that I’m here.
I didn’t ask for this transfer, I didn’t know anything about it until the prison shrink told me it was happening, and once I got here and found out more about thetreatmentI’ll be receiving, it seemed even stranger that I was moved. But I was, and I guess part of me is grateful while the rest of me is skeptical as hell.
