Expecting Derrick to duck out on their session meant Janine was ready and waiting for him the next morning. She stood outside of the building he was housed in and kept watch. Sure enough, about a half-hour before their session was set to start, the front doors to the building opened with an electric whine as someone pressed the automated button.

Derrick emerged, hands wielding the grips of his wheelchair, pushing himself along at a quick clip, so quick she practically had to trot to keep him in sight. She knew better than to confront him in the open. Besides, she wanted to see where he went.

The rehab center grounds housed numerous buildings, most of them for rehabilitation of some sort. While they offered an in-house program for people like Derrick, they also took those who had adapted enough to function in the outside world but still needed a place they could exercise.

Derrick bypassed the gym facility nearby and followed the road, never once peering behind. His route was by no means vacant. She found it interesting to note that Derrick didn’t ignore the waves of those he passed, giving them a brief salute of acknowledgement. Perhaps not as antisocial as he wanted to claim.

Wheeling his chair suddenly to the right, Derrick’s destination soon became clear, an outdoor pool surrounded by a chain-link fence. The gate yielded to a swipe of his keycard, and she slowed her steps as he parked his chair. He still hadn’t looked behind him. Did he know she followed? He certainly didn’t act as if he did. Were his usual predatory instincts dulled by his injury, or did he just not want to acknowledge her?

She halted at the gate, mesmerized by the glimpse of skin as he pulled his shirt off. He tossed it on a bench lining the fence. For a second, she couldn’t see much, the straight back of the chair hiding Derrick as he bent forward to remove his track pants and shoes.

Stripped down, he then rolled his chair to the edge of the water and set the brake. A little more maneuvering, which involved the straining of his upper body as he hauled his weight from the seat to the edge of the pool. She had a moment to see the scars on his back, red whorls, still fresh and probably silver based, and other scars, silvery ones that had healed but left marks.

Before she could examine the rest of him, he sank into the water. And she meant sank.

Uh-oh.

Sprinting along the fence line, she made for the gate, only to slam hard into it, rattling the chain links when it wouldn’t open. She spent a few annoying and precious wasted seconds swiping her access card across the lock sensor, the buzz and click meaning she had access. She flew through the gate, kicking off shoes as she went, ready to dive to the rescue, only to stumble to a halt.

Piercing eyes met hers as Derrick, submerged to his nose, glared at her, his arms stroking the water and keeping him afloat.

He rose enough to mutter, “What are you doing here?”

“It’s a nice day for a swim,” she said, perhaps a tad too brightly.

“Or a drowning. Because that is why you came rushing in here, isn’t it, Red? Thought I was going to end it all by sinking like a rock to the bottom.”

“Can you blame me for the assumption?” She arched a brow. “After all, we do have an appointment that you chose to skip.”

“It’s not ten yet.”

“Don’t split hairs with me. We both know you had no intention of keeping it.”

“So you followed me.”

“I did.”

“And let me ask you, if I really had decided to drown myself, exactly what makes you think you could have saved me?”

Her chin tilted. “I’ll have you know I spent two years working as a lifeguard for our local pool. I am fully qualified to save your life.”

“Thing is, Red, what if I don’t want you to save it? Isn’t a man allowed the choice of living or dying?”

It was a question she often heard, especially by those still dealing with debilitating injuries. Stuck in a pit of despair, they couldn’t see the light, the possibility. It was up to her to drag them out. “I think everyone should have the choice. My job is to make sure you don’t decide without all the facts or too hastily.”

“I have all the facts. And some of them blow.” He dipped under the water, and big bubbles rose to the surface. This time, she didn’t panic. Instead, she rolled up her pants legs and sat on the edge of the pool, dipping her feet into the water. Only to snatch them out and yell, “That’s freakn’ cold!”

He burst from the skin of water, water clinging to his lashes. “That’s not cold. It’s invigorating.”

Tucking her feet under her, she shook her head. “Only if you’re a penguin. Do you swim in this arctic pool often?”

“Every day unless someone is bothering me.” The intense glare made her smile.

“Don’t mind me. I’ll just sit here and watch. We can talk when you’re done.”

“What if I don’t want to talk?”

“Then I’ll keep following you around until you do.”

“Will you wipe my ass when I go for a shit?”

“No, because you’re a grown man and you can wipe it yourself.”

“If I’m a grown man, then why aren’t you respecting my choice to not have my feelings analyzed?”

“Because.”

“That’s your argument?”

She smiled. “If you want to know the real reason why I’m forcing the issue, then I guess you’re going to have to talk to me.”

“Are you always this tenacious?”

“My stepdad says I have the tenacity of a bear after honey.”

“Perhaps you should try mimicking a bee and buzzing off.” With those words, he sliced sideways into the pool, arms pumping as he stroked through the water in a front crawl. The liquid helped a bit with his leg situation, giving them some buoyancy, but she still knew how hard he had to pull in order to stay afloat. It made her wonder who authorized these swims without supervision.

Then again, chances were Derrick chased away anyone who tried to treat him as if he needed a keeper to watch over him.

The man appeared more prickly than a porcupine, but Janine considered it a point in her favor that he’d not yet driven her away.

Since Derrick seemed determined to ignore her for the moment with his swim, she dragged her phone out of her pocket. No surprise, it blinked at her. More text messages.

The first one was from her mom: Hey, June-bug. Don’t forget the big anniversary party at the end of the month.

As if she’d forget. Twenty years was something to celebrate, especially since after the death of her dad, Janine had worried her mom would never find happiness again. Mom blamed herself for Janine’s dad’s suicide. They all did. It had taken Janine many years to realize it wasn’t her or her mom who were at fault for her dad’s sink into despair. Daddy had needed help, was even offered it, but he’d refused it, and when things became too much, he took the only way out that he thought was left.

Why, Daddy? Why did you leave me? The cries of a daughter abandoned still haunted her to this day.

Janine made it her mission in life to see that no other child ever had to suffer like she had.

She fired a quick text back to her mother. Of course I haven’t forgotten. I was planning to get there a little early so we could chat before it starts. Which would require her leaving the medical facility mid-afternoon the day of and driving just under three hours. But at least she could spend the night. She’d sublet her apartment because of her projected tenure here. Her contract had her locked in for three months minimum, more if necessary. But she was lucky. If she needed a place to go, then she could go home. Unlike other parents with empty nests, her mom and stepdad kept Janine’s room intact and encouraged her to visit often.

After replying to her mother, she still had seven more texts. All from a single person. Her ex. He was one of the reasons she’d jumped when Orson offered this job. She needed to get away, and yet, even here, he followed, if only electronically.

If Janine didn’t have so many business contacts, she would change her number, but she refused to give in to his harassment. Although she did try blocking him. It didn’t seem to stop him from finding a way to send her messages.

Message One: Where are you? I went by your apartment and your car was gone.

And it would be gone for a while, given she’d put her stuff into storage and was subletting the place. Given she didn’t know how long her job with Derrick would take—she’d been exclusively hired to deal with him and him alone—she thought it best to get out. A part of her hoped Brian would give up while she was away, but in the meantime, he kept harassing.

Message Two: Let’s get together and talk. I miss you.

Missed the prestige he thought dating a daughter of a council member would bring.

Message Three: You didn’t come home last night. Where are you?

Ah yes, the stalking. Something she’d not told her stepdad or mom about, too embarrassed to admit the mess she’d made of her personal life.

Message Four: You better not be fucking around on me.

They were broken up. What she did was none of his business.

Message Five: Why aren’t you answering me?

Because she never did. Answering would just open that door again.

Message Six: You are a fucking whore.

Only if the time she spent with her vibrator counted.

Message Seven: Sorry about that last message. I miss you. I need you. Call me.

Like hell. Sometimes, people assumed that someone in her profession, someone who dealt with people and emotions on a daily basis, would be smarter in their personal life. She was a psychologist. Shouldn’t she know how to spot an asshat when she met one?

Nope. All her degrees didn’t stop her from falling for a guy’s sweet-talk, tight ass, and big blue eyes. She’d fallen in the trap so many women did. She fell in love with him, and that false love meant excusing some of Brian’s behavior and allowing herself to get drawn into a pattern where he groomed her for future abuse, the verbal and controlling kind. She might have still been with him if he’d not slapped her.

At times, she thought she should send him a thank-you card for the physical reminder that this wasn’t how a man treated a woman. The sting on her cheek had woken her up, and she dumped him.

Initially shocked, Brian didn’t argue—other than calling her a moron for not realizing what a good catch he was. For a few weeks, everything seemed okay. Then the calls started, and, when she wouldn’t answer them, the texts. When he’d dared to confront Janine coming out of her apartment building, she’d warned him to stay away or else.

“Or else what? You’ll go to the cops?” He leaned in close, the whiskey on his breath strong. “You seem to forget, sweetcheeks, I own the cops. They work for me.” At least that was Brian’s view, given his role as district attorney and, since she didn’t dare test it, possibly true.

Since a restraining order seemed out of the question, and telling her stepdad would see Brian meeting a hunting accident of some sort—probably mauled by an angry bear—Janine chose avoidance. Ironic, given she forced her clients to face their problems and fears, but a narcissistic individual like Brian fed off the drama and attention. She hoped by not giving him any, he’d bore of harassing her and move on to someone else. And, yes, she did feel a twinge of guilt and pity for whoever he set his sights on next.

“Why are you looking so serious?” He bobbed in the water in front of her, having paused his swimming to show curiosity.

She tucked her phone into her lap. “Nothing. Just dealing with some email.”

A crease furrowed his brow. “Do you always look annoyed when doing it?”

“I hate typing on small screens.”

“Everyone does.”

His hands braced on the side of the pool as he heaved himself out, slick, wet skin covering thick and defined muscle. She might have stared, she definitely gaped, and he turned his mighty glare on her, mistaking the reason why.

“Getting a good look at the crippled freak?”

She blurted out the truth, which, in this case, was totally inappropriate. “You have a great body.”

Her statement made him recoil, enough that he lost his grip and fell back in the water with a splash.

Oh dear. She tossed her phone to the side and leaned forward, ready to offer him a hand. His fingers flailed from the water, linked with hers and…he yanked her in!