“Would it surprise you to know I’ve done a lot of thinking about this?” To hell with her wanting me sober. I at least need to get a buzz on to go through this. The Scotch is waiting for me. This time, I use a glass, though I fill it more than halfway before returning to the couch.
She’s waiting, patient as ever. I almost wish she wouldn’t be so damn calm at times like this. No matter how I try, I can’t get a reaction out of her. Ever the professional.
She expects me to open now, so I drain half the glass before admitting what’s weighing heaviest on my mind. She won’t let it go until I do. “It’s not only that night. I know I said it was, and I doubt I’ll ever forgive myself for leaving her unprotected.”
I take another sip, the liquor burning its way down my throat. The sensation is a welcome one. “It’s everything that came before that. How can I live with myself, knowing what I put her through?”
Lauren frowns. “The way she was treated when she first arrived, you mean?”
“Of course, that’s what I mean. I allowed her to be abused. Practically tortured.”
“You did what you felt had to be done to make an example out of her.”
“Don’t tell me you think that was fair.”
“I never said that.” Now she’s scowling, and her normally warm eyes have hardened. “I don’t think it was fair at all. No matter what her adopted father did, none of it was Aspen’s fault.”
“You don’t know the way it is. The code we have to keep. The way we treat rats and traitors.”
“I know enough about it, and my point stands. But that’s neither here nor there. You did what you felt had to be done.” She lifts a shoulder, sighing. “If you didn’t, it might have been considered tantamount to excusing her father’s poor choices. That would only have created trouble among the students.”
“That’s a fair point.” I sip more of the Scotch, mulling this over. “I’m sure it’s what I told myself at the time. It helped me sleep at night when I thought of her at all.”
“You didn’t know who she was,” Lauren reminds me in a softer voice than before. “You can’t blame yourself for that.”
“Say’s who?”
“Says the medical professional you visit for treatment.”
I can’t help but wince. “Do you have to call it that? You make it sound like I’m in a padded room.”
“An unfair stereotype which only serves to scare people off. It does a disservice to the profession and to so many people who might otherwise have gotten help.”
I give her time to finish before shaking my head. “Maybe that works for some people. I’ll never feel like there’s anything normal about this.”
“Even if it keeps your darker side at bay?”
I’m not so sure it does anymore. Not after the way I’ve used Delilah. “How do I get over this, Doc?” I ask, ignoring her question.
“The guilt?” When I nod, she pulls a concerned face. “You’re not going to like hearing it.”
“I thought that went without saying.”
“You’re going to have to talk to Aspen.”
“You’re right. I didn’t like hearing that.” I sit up straight, then throw back the rest of the Scotch in one smooth gulp. “No way.”
“It’s the only way you can start to get past the guilt.”
“You mean there isn’t a, you know, breathing exercise I can do instead? Could I meditate or something?”
“Now I know you’re going through it if you’d rather meditate.”
I don’t crack a smile. “I won’t talk to her about it.”
“Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Since it’s not going to happen, there’s no point in going all worst-case scenario.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“You know I don’t appreciate the use of that word. I’m not afraid. Of anything, or anyone.”
“You have a daughter now. There’s fear in you, the same as there is with any other parent. You’re only human.”
“I would rather we not talk about this anymore. Not today.” She doesn’t know what she’s asking. How am I supposed to broach the subject? What would I say? What kind of asshole would I end up sounding like? Sorry, I knew exactly what was being done to you and did nothing to stop it—in fact, I added to it. But I didn’t know you were my daughter. Whoops, sorry.
“Fair enough.” She lets out a deep breath. “How’s Delilah doing? Has she started classes yet?”
“Yes, this week.”
“Is she getting along with everyone?” It’s clear from the tightness in her voice that she already knows the answer. Didn’t we just finish talking about traitors and what happens to them? Aspen is virtual royalty now that she’s a member of the Rossi family, and Delilah might’ve participated in the worst night of her life. I’m sure, according to gossip, she did.