Page 7 of Unhinged

Her receptionist nodded. “Mr. Iverson here”—she narrowed her eyes at the man, who in response just rolled his own—“was asking Ms. Dawes personal questions.”

The way Fiona stressed the word sent a niggle of worry down Hannah's spine. “Mr. Iverson, may I please see you in my office for a moment?”

With a smirk at the two other women, he preceded Hannah into her office. Trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, she tipped her head at him. “I’d like to hear your side of things, please.”

He lifted his hands in a shrugging motion. “I was merely offering some advice.”

“Such as?”

He clasped his hands behind his back. “Rachel’s a bit high-strung, don’t you think? I mean…” He began to walk a circle around her office. “Don’t you ever think that she just keeps coming here for the attention? Do you really think she’s depressed?”

“I don’t believe that’s any concern of yours,” she bit out. “I am your doctor as well, Mr. Iverson, though one could argue that you need me as little as you seem to believe Ms. Dawes does.”

His eyes jumped to hers. “Maybe I keep coming back because I want to see you.”

Unease caused the hairs on the back of her neck to lift, and she stiffened. “Mr. Iverson, I believe I’ve been quite clear on the matter. I cannot in good conscience date patients, either present or former. Regarding other patients,” she ground out, “you may not interrogate them or pry into their lives.”

“I merely suggested she take a chill pill,” he laughed. “A Valium, actually. I think it might help mellow her out a little.”

At his flippant statement, a red haze filled her vision. “You are in no position to counsel my patients on any matter. In fact”—she strode to her desk and rifled in the top drawer for a moment before extracting a card and holding it out to him—“I believe you will find Dr. Chandler more helpful than myself.”

His mouth dropped open in shock. “You’re… dismissing me?”

“I’m referring you to a colleague. On account of today’s events, I believe it’s best if someone else were to treat you.”

His face flushed with anger, and he ripped the card from her hand, knocking it to the floor. He took a step toward her, his gaze dark and menacing.

Despite her heart racing in her chest, she squared her shoulders and stared up at him. “I strongly advise you step away before you do something you’ll regret.”

“You can’t do this.” His eyes burned into hers, and she almost shivered at the hostility lurking in their depths.

“Please, Steve, take my advice and speak to Dr. Chandler.”

He stared at her for another moment before spinning abruptly on his heel and striding for the door. “You’ll be the one who regrets this, Hannah.”

With those final parting words, he swept from the room, and seconds later, she heard the outer door slam, punctuating his dramatic exit. With a shaky breath, she sank into one of the plush armchairs and dropped her head into her hands. A soft touch to her shoulder made her jump.

Fiona stared down at her, concern etched into her features. “You okay?”

Hannah patted the older woman’s hand where it rested on her shoulder. “I’m fine, thank you. Just a bit shaken up.”

“Do you want me to have Ms. Dawes reschedule?”

She shook her head. “No. She probably needs to speak with someone now more than ever. Can you please just give me a minute before sending her in?”

“Of course.” The receptionist offered a soft smile and retreated soundlessly from the room.

Hannah closed her eyes, allowing the warmth of the sunlight filtering through the window to wash over her and thaw the ice streaming through her veins. She’d dealt with disgruntled patients before, but for some reason, Steve Iverson had gotten to her on a more personal level. There was something about him that made her uneasy, reminding her of someone long ago.

Looking around the room, she contemplated her present—and her past. This was a far cry from the place she’d come from, and she was no longer the naïve young girl who trusted too easily. She had to wonder sometimes, did people like Steve even want help? Or was he here for something else?

Pushing the thought from her mind, she rose from the chair and walked to the doorway just in time to meet Rachel.

She shot her an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry about that.”

The young woman made her way over to one of the chairs and sat gingerly. “It’s fine. He just… put me on edge.”

Hannah closed the door, then settled into the seat next to her. “I know, and I truly apologize. Just so you know,” she continued as Rachel opened her mouth to speak, “Mr. Iverson will not be back. What he did goes against our ethics here, so I’ve recommended him to a colleague of mine.”