He turned and walked toward the foyer before I could even stand up to lead him there. I sat on the sofa for a long time after the front door clicked shut, staring at the steam rising from the tea he hadn't touched. I chewed on my lip, my mind spinning. Why would an anger management specialist need to check the progress of my bone fracture? Wouldn't I just go back to the orthopedic surgeon who set the cast?
Maybe Jason had told him the hospital was too crowded. Or maybe this was just how the ultra-wealthy handled things—private doctors for everything.
Before I could wrap my head around a solid answer, the phone on the coffee table buzzed, vibrating against the wood. It was Jason.
"Sarah? Did your session with Dr. Thorpe go well?"
"He was just here," I said, my voice sounding distant to
