“Shh, Devy. You’re okay.”
Her surprise melted into a gooey pleasure as he stroked her hair off her forehead.
“There you go. That’s a good girl.”
Was this for real? This couldn’t be for real. She’d always yearned for Carter to touch her like this—gently, selflessly, sweetly—and to talk to her like this too—reassuring and full of praise.
She’d always liked being a good girl. Had liked getting good grades in school. Had liked following rules. Had liked to keep a clean house and make healthy delicious meals for her family. Maybe it wasn’t very grown up to crave other people’s recognition and approval but she did.
It was nice too the way Doctor Southerland called her Devy. Her parents had always been insistent her name not be shortened because they’d purposefully given her a name that was elegant, sophisticated, and it didn’t matter if it had felt like she was dressing up in her mom’s clothes, clomping around in high-heeled shoes that were too big, and sporting pearls filched from her grandmother’s jewelry box.
Carter occasionally called her Dev and even that felt like an elbow to her ribs. Too sharp, too mature.
Doctor Southerland made her feel soft and small, and she liked it even if it made her also feel a little helpless. Maybe she liked that too, after having to be in charge of so much for so long and not being treated with kindness or compassion. She ached for it, craved it, wanted to soak up his tenderness like a sponge.
“Carter and the boys have gone, no one’s here but us. Do you need to call anyone, let them know where you are? Or do you want to? I know we don’t know each other very well and I want you to feel safe.”
“No.”
The truth was that him asking made her feel safe. And besides, who could she tell?
“Alright. You just say the word if that changes or if I scare you.”
She couldn’t picture that happening, but she knew he expected an answer so she gave him one. “’Kay.”
“Good girl. Now you’re going to be my special little patient and I’m going to take very good care of you. Your only job is to be a well-behaved girl and let me. Do you understand?”
“I—”
His words surprised her, but after the shock dulled she wanted to say yes. Wanted her only responsibility to be obedient. But how could she possibly accept? She was a grown woman and she was imposing and no one liked a sickly adult who was nothing but overwhelming need. Carter had made it clear that her needinganythingwas a drag and he’d been her husband for goodness’ sake.
“Devy," Doctor Southerland said in a warning tone. “I know you’re a grown-up and you’re not used to anyone looking after you. But I like to take care of special little patients. I enjoy being in charge of them and making sure they’re safe and healthy. And I like to discipline them when they don’t behave. Tell me the truth now. Would you like to be my special little patient?”
Before she could stop the words from coming out, they dropped from her lips in a pleading whimper. “Yes, please, Doctor Southerland.”