But once she’d wrangled in some of the weepiness, the anger had swept in behind it. She’d wanted to be pissed. To rage. But she didn’t even know whom or what to be angry at. Lane for being so determined to keep his job? Herself for being unable to turn off the possessive switch? Fate for bringing her someone so wonderful but whom she ultimately couldn’t have?
He’d told her he loved her, dammit. They should be together right now, starting a life. Instead, here she was, miserable as hell, alone, and drowning her sorrow in non-stop work.
The coffee turned bitter in her mouth. All the ruminating wasn’t going to change the situation. There was no fix. No prescription she could write to heal this. His job was non-negotiable for them both, and they were on opposite sides. Love didn’t fix everything. That was a lie the world sold in movie theaters and in books with pretty covers.
She would figure out a way to move past this. She would have to.
Even if it felt impossible right now.
She turned the corner to head toward her office, her pager buzzing against her hip, and almost ran into Oriana. Her coffee sloshed onto the floor and she held it away from her body, narrowly missing spilling it down the front of her white coat.
“So sorry,” Ori said quickly. “Isa from X-wing just called. She needs you over there immediately.”
Elle frowned and checked her pager, seeing the extension for the sex therapy wing and the code that indicated it was urgent but not life-threatening. She tossed her coffee in a nearby trash can and nodded at Ori. “You’re in charge of the unit until I get back.”
“Got it.”
Elle swung by her office to grab a basic medical kit and hoofed it over to the other building. She rarely had emergencies that called her off her unit, but it was a weekend and there were fewer M.D.s working, probably none in the outpatient buildings. Last time she was called out of the blue like this, two kids in the teen program had gotten in a fight and a nose had been broken.
She pushed through the doors to the X-wing and stopped in front of the receptionist desk where Isa, the main assistant for the unit, looked up with relief in her brown eyes. “Oh, thank God. They got ahold of you.”
“What’s going on?”
“It’s one of yours. Come on.” Isa hurried from behind the desk and motioned for Elle to follow her, her shoes clicking on the shiny floors. Once they turned the corner, there was a forlorn sound coming from down the hall, a weeping voice. Raymond, one of the psychiatric aides from a different unit, was hovering near the doorway, his dark bald head gleaming in the light from the window but concern on his usually jovial face. Isa pointed toward the door. “One of your patients…she had some sort of episode in session and attacked. I called Ray but he…wasn’t allowed to help.”
“Wasn’t allowed…” But Elle’s words trailed off as she peeked into the open doorway and saw the scene.
Jun Alexis was in the corner of one of the therapy rooms in a robe, her face mascara-streaked and her arms around her knees. Lane was on the floor next to her, not touching her, his lips murmuring soothing words. Jun looked like she couldn’t accept them. She was shaking her head, everything about her dialed up into some anxiety state.
“I tried to help, Dr. McCray,” Raymond said, his voice library quiet. “She went after Lane and was hurting him. But he called me off. Said it would make her worse. I wasn’t sure what to do, but he’s got her calmer now. She was…out of her head.”
Shit. She gave a quick nod. “Okay. Thanks for coming down here, Ray. Let me go and see what’s going on. You mind sticking around in case we need help with a transport?”
“Not at all.” Raymond slipped out of the way so that Elle could step inside, and she shut the door behind her, affording Jun privacy.
Elle cleared her throat, working to keep her voice low and calming so she didn’t startle the woman. “Hi, Jun.”
Lane looked up, flinching slightly when he saw that it was Elle but quickly recovering a professional mask. Deep scratches marred the side of his face, blood trickling down his cheek.
Elle took a breath. Jun hadn’t lifted her head, so she directed her request to Lane. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Lane glanced at Jun, concern all over his face, and turned back to Elle. “We were having a session. She was practicing progressive relaxation while we did some touch exercises. She was doing fine until I touched her thigh. It triggered some sort of flashback and she reacted violently.”
Jun sobbed softly and rocked, whispering to herself, something that sounded like sorry over and over again.
“I stopped the exercise immediately, but it was too late. She was lost to whatever memory it was and attacked me. Ray came to help, but she screamed at the sight of him. I didn’t want to make it worse with”—his gaze held heartbreak on Jun’s behalf—“two men restraining her.”
Jun whimpered and scooted against Lane, seeking comfort from the man she’d apparently just attacked. He ran a gentle hand over her head, protective, almost brotherly. “It’s okay, Jun. The doc’s here to help. We’re both here to keep you safe.”
Elle’s heart clenched.
“She’s calmed some now,” he continued. “But I didn’t know what to do from here. Dr. Rush and Dr. West are off today. She’s still trembling all over and she may have hurt her hands when she was hitting me.”
Hitting him. Scratching him. Tearing his shirt from what Elle could see. The only way such a tiny thing like Jun could make a big guy like Lane look so ravaged was if he hadn’t attempted to hold her back or restrain her at all.
But Elle couldn’t worry about that now. Her first concern was Jun.
Elle squatted down to get eye level with her. The edgy musician who was usually so full of brash, bold attitude looked like a child trying to curl in on herself. Black eye makeup had made sooty streaks down her cheeks and her shoulders curved inward. “Okay, Jun. It’s just me, Dr. McCray. I’m here to help and make sure you’re all right. Let’s see what we have going on, okay? I want to make sure you’re not hurt.”