Summer’s POV
Dr. Sean raised his hands defensively, backing away like he’d accidentally wandered into a minefield. ‘Okay, I’m just gonna…” he pointed at the door, “leave you two to sort this out. Brandon, talk to your wife properly, for God’s sake.”
Brandon shot him a death glare before turning back to me, his expression softening.
“Summer,” he began, his voice that special kind of patient that only merged when he was trying very hard not to sound irritated, “bringing you to see a psychologist doesn’t mean you have mental problems.”
“Then what exactly does it mean?” 1 folded my arms across my chest Because from where I’m standing, it sure looks like you think I’m going crazy after last night.”
Brandon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose–his universal sign of gathering patience. “Your nerves are frayed. You’re tense. Last night was… intense. I brought you here so the doctor could help you relax, not because I think there’s something wrong with you.”
I bit my lip, considering his words. The fear that Brandon might not make it back alive… Maybe I was a little on edge.
“Look,” Brandon’s voice gentled as he took my hands in his, “I just want to make sure you’re okay. No one is going to think you have problems. I promise.”
My shoulders slumped as the fight drained out of me. “Fine. I’ll see the doctor. But I’m seriously okay, Brandon. I just… I never saw anyone killed before. I wasn’t prepared for that.”
Brandon’s eyes turned solemn. “I know. And I promise I won’t leave you alone like that again.”
I squeezed his hands, nodding. “You better not.”
Half an hour later, we walked out of Manhattan General. The session had been surprisingly helpful–just some relaxation techniques and a chance to process what had happened. Nothing too intrusive.
“See? That wasn’t so bad,” I said, squinting in the afternoon sunlight. “I told you I was fine, just a little tense. I’ll work on my mental state, I promise.”
Brandon nodded, his hand warm against the small of my back as he guided me to the car. “Hmm.”
“Brandon, Summer! You’re finally back!” Meave’s worried voice greeted us the moment we stepped through the door of the Hamptons estate. Her elegant figure appeared in the foyer, her face a mixture of relief and concern. “You two didn’t come home last night and didn’t even call. Brandon, I expected better from you! Gavin and I waited up for so long, only to get your call this. morning!”
Brandon gave her a casual half–smile. “I’m sure Uncle Gavin was thrilled we didn’t come home. Rare opportunity for you two to have some alone time without us third–wheeling, right?”
nudged him with my elbow before turning to Meave with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry we worried you, Meave. It was really late, and we were exhausted… I promise next time we’re staying out or coming home late, we’ll call you, okay?”
Meave’s expression softened. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. Actually, Gavin and I were planning to head back to the Stark mansion
anyway.”
“You’re leaving?” I couldn’t hide the disappointment in my voice. “Why? Aren’t you comfortable here?”
1/2
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