and let his hand fall back to his side. “Are you going to be okay tonight?”
Was he asking her that as a psychiatrist or as a man?
It didn’t matter. The last thing she wanted was to jeopardize her working relationship with the one man who might be able to get through to her daughter. She needed to keep this impersonal. Professional. Even though his touch brought back a whole lot of emotions she hadn’t felt in twenty-two years.
But she had to keep them firmly locked away. Somehow.
“I’ll be fine. Just call if there’s any change, okay?” She was proud of the amount of conviction she’d inserted into her voice.
“I will. I’m off at ten, but the hospital knows how to reach me if there’s a problem.” He took a card from his desk and wrote something on the back of it, then handed it to her. “I’ll give you a yell in the morning, but until then, here’s my cell phone number. Call me if you need me.”
If you need me.
Terrifying words, because she already did. More than she should. But she wouldn’t call. No matter how much that little voice inside her said to do just that.
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