Page 28 of Game Misconduct

“Let’s get you off to see Dr. Whitney, and then you’ll be free and clear,” Doc says.

My stomach sinks. Please don’t tell me…

“Dr. Whitney?”

“She’s the head of the neurological team. You’ll be safe with her.” He pats my good knee. “Off you trot. Better get it over with.”

Heaving myself off the table, I force myself to take a few deep breaths. There’s no reason to suspect it’s her. There are plenty of female doctors who study brains and live in Boston and have the last name Whitney. It’s definitely not her.

There’s another office down the hallway, and even though every step feels like I’m running straight into a raging, out-of-control inferno, my feet keep me moving. My hand shakes as I reach for the handle, and I force my shoulders back and lift my chin.

I can do this.

But as I open the door and come face-to-face with the one I let slip away, I know I can’t.

Because sitting behind her desk is Dr. Rebecca Whitney, and I can’t breathe.

Bex.

She looks up at the sound of my footsteps, and her easy smile fades, her face a stone-cold mask.

“No. Get out.”

“I—I can’t.” My voice cracks. “I’m reporting for my neurological exam.”

Her glare makes my insides turn to ice. “Go back to New Orleans.”

“You know I can’t do that.”