Just a Dare

Chapter Twenty-Six

Melody was the first to speak, taking the pages from my outstretched hand. "Thanks," she said softly, moving over to my desk to straighten them.

"You wear glasses." I blurted, unable to take my eyes off of her.

I could have strangled myself, but I believe that my heart was doing a fine job of that already.

What the hell was that, you moron? I found myself demanding in my head.

Oh well. It was too late to take it back now, so I allowed myself a better chance to take her in.

It had been a long time since I had seen this woman and I wondered how much had changed in that amount of time besides her appearance. I couldn't help but glance at her left hand and held in a sigh of relief when I saw that her ring finger was bare.

She laughed a little, and I noticed that it was a little deeper than it was ten years ago. Her voice in general had matured. "They're only for when I'm reading."

"That's nice," was all I could manage to say, and again I found myself wanting to knock myself out with the lamp sitting on my desk.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Trey Williams, I thought, you are a fucking idiot.

She stacked the paperwork carefully before opening her briefcase and pulling out another folder. She turned around, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she did so, and raised an eyebrow at me. After a minute, I realized that she was waiting on me to initiate the meeting.

I blinked once before motioning to one of the chairs in front of my desk as I began moving back to my own seat. "Please, have a seat."

She gave me a small smile before sitting down. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I said, getting myself seated. I glanced at her paper and felt my lips twitch as I saw that every sheet of paper was perfectly aligned with the one on top of it. It was clear that she was as obsessive about things being in order as she used to be. I suppose some things never changed.

I cleared my throat before addressing her once more. Although I wanted nothing more than to reschedule this meeting for later so that she could fill me in on the last decade of her life, I valued her employer's business with my company. "What brings Buchanan Counseling here?"

Her eyelids fluttered a few times behind those gleaming lenses and she pursed her lips before reaching for her small pile to pull the top sheet of paper off the top, looking over it quickly before pushing it across to my side of the desk. "We've got a relative of one of our clients who claims that our sessions are what drove him to commit suicide."

I nodded as my eyes skimmed the text, which, in more complex terms, said the same thing that she just had. I looked up at her. "And Mr. Buchanan wants us to defend his company in court, I'm guessing?"

She smiled briefly before replying. "Yes, but more specifically, he wants you."

I smirked before leaning back in my chair. "Of course he does," I said. After a second, I dropped my joking attitude and asked, "Do you have any other specific details before we jump into discussing our game plan?"

She shrugged, leaning back in her own chair. "Not really besides the fact that this lady we're going against is crazy. She refuses to go quietly and realize that the fault in all of this can't be pinned on us."

I scratched the back of my head before opening a drawer in my desk and pulling out a pen and notepad to scribble down what little information I'd been given so far to add to the Buchanan file. "Who was the psychologist that," I glanced at the paper she'd given me, "David Grey was seeing?" I had looked up to meet her eyes and found her biting her lip.