they won’t.” He dropped his leather jacket on the floor beside his duffel.
“Yes, they will.”
His broad shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug. “You’ll know them.”
“I don’t count.”
His eyes lasered into hers. “Says who?”
She blinked at him. As a counselor, she served as a conduit for patients, channeling their fears, their rage, their despair. Justin’s comment solidified her somehow. He made her feel present and alive in a way she hadn’t in a long time. “The counselor you’re assigned can’t help you without this information.”
“I don’t want help.”
She counted backward from ten then said, “We can’t admit you without a completed intake, and you accepted the dare.”
“To volunteer teaching your patients to tend cattle. Ride. Rope...” Justin folded his arms over his chest, mutinous.
“You had the option, here or jail, and you chose Fresh Start. Whether you go to group sessions or not, you’re still a patient.”
“Not so’s I see it,” he grumbled. Behind him, Doreen strolled past the doorway, rubbernecking.
“Would you please close the door, Doreen?” Brielle called.
“Can I get you two anything?” she asked, her eyes sticking to Justin like he was made of flypaper.
“A beer?” Justin drawled.
“That’ll be all, Doreen, thanks.”
Once the door closed, Justin lifted his eyes and studied her. The slanting sun glinted on the gold flecks in his jewel-tone depths. “What kinds of questions?”
She clicked on her keyboard and brought up his Addiction Severity Index sheet. “Medical, employment/support status, alcohol, drug, legal, family/social and psychiatric.”
One thick eyebrow rose. “You said this’d be quick.”
“We’ll be as fast as possible. All clients partake in this interview. The information helps us provide you with the right care for your needs.”
“I don’t—”
“Need anything,” she finished for him, an edge entering her voice despite her effort to stay neutral. He wasn’t used to the tough, blunt talk she’d adopted with her soldiers. Sometimes it was the only way she’d gotten through. “Got it.”
Justin waved a hand. “Let’s get this over with,” he mumbled around the toothpick.
She squared her shoulders.
Lord, give me strength.
“You also have the right to refuse to answer any question.”
“Now we’re talking.” He tipped his hat down so low it covered his eyes. His chin dropped to his chest. Her hands clasped each other, and it took all her self-discipline not to flick that blasted hat right off his head. She knew avoidance when she saw it. Knew how to handle it, too...so why was he getting under her skin?
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
