There wasn’t a dollar amount that made me lean in favor of his decision.
Now that we’re here, I understand the intrigue and the desire for a more complicated situation.
Cade lays the folder in his lap and shakes out his arms.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to roll up my sleeves and get comfortable with the particulars,” my brother says, directing his statement toward Eleanor. She merely gives him a thin smile and nod in return.
“We should be through this quickly, starting with the schedule.” He launches into the shift rotations and designated meeting times, followed by how any items coming or going, including any shopping, will be handled.
That, and more, until Eleanor interrupts him. Her soft voice cuts right into an explanation of the around-the-clock care services we’ll be providing.
“I’m expected to talk to you?”
“To talk to us?” Tilting my head slightly, I wait to hear Eleanor’s response to my brother.
Her hand goes to her throat as if she needs the physical support to get the words out. My eyes narrow as she swallows thickly. It hurts her to speak. I’m sure of it. That knowledge makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “You want to conduct therapy sessions in addition to the mandated monthly sessions from the center?”
“That’s correct,” Cade answers. With his hands folded, he leans forward and looks her in the eye. That’s my brother. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shy away from other people’s discomfort. “It’s essential that we’re involved in your care. We cannot help you or protect you if we aren’t included in each aspect that’s questionable when it comes to your safety.”
“I think you’ll be rather disappointed.” Eleanor’s voice is low and strained, like it’s been brushed with steel wool. “I haven’t much to say.” There’s a note of melancholy that’s tangled in her nearly dismissive response.
“As part of our agreement, we need to offer on-demand access to emotional support.”
Eleanor’s manager, Kamden, pipes up from the archway, his tone hopeful. “Therapists will be coming and going. You’ll meet with them as well.”
She glances incredulously toward him, the corners of her mouth tugging down. But then her dark eyes come back to Cade, back to his attention. Eleanor nods without speaking, seemingly accepting the terms against her will. More questions are asked, this time from Cade. Her responses are short. Occasionally she follows the lead of her manager, searching him out before answering.
It’s like she’s conserving her words. What makes her choose one moment over another to use them? I give the manager a once-over as Cade moves through his agenda. I don’t know what to think of him. He prefers to go by Kam, and that’s the sum total of facts I have on hand. Obviously, he makes his money off Eleanor. I have questions. Like what happened to her that she ended up like this—withdrawn and wary and broken—and he appears to be just fine and speaking for her more than she speaks for herself.
The fourth time Eleanor’s fingertips grace the dip of her throat, Kam interrupts to offer her tea. She nods and I anticipate that being the only response, but she adds “please,” just above a murmur.
Their relationship is … unique. Something about him doesn’t sit right with me. I file my skepticism away for later.
Damon takes a half step forward from where he stands to the left of the fireplace as Kam turns on his heel to head to the kitchen, and my brother’s focus follows him. Leaning forward, he meets Eleanor’s eye level. She observes him with both curiosity and hesitation.
He softens his expression to question, “Everything all right so far?”
Her nod of acknowledgment comes with the faint sounds of Kam’s efforts to make the tea just behind us in the kitchen. “Damon, right?”
He mimics her response with a nod in affirmation, offering her an asymmetric smile as well. “That would be me.” Damon’s dark skin is complemented by his cobalt blue suit that nearly matches the walls, and his smile is as white as the shirt he wears under the slim-cut jacket.
Giving him a simper she relaxes slightly, although there’s still the tension that would be expected given the situation.
“I want to put your mind at ease,” Damon continues. “Each of us has received training in emotional support, and I am a board-certified physician.” A psychiatrist, to be exact.
Her smile wanes and the light in her eyes dims. For a moment, I think she’s not going to respond, but then she explains, “What if I don’t want to talk at all?”
Again, a nervous prick travels down my spine as Damon jokes with her that he’s comfortable in silence. It puts her at ease at least. That or the tea Kam offers her.
“Are we good to continue?” Cade asks just as Kamden gives Eleanor’s shoulder a light squeeze and returns to his position.