What He Shields (What He Wants Book Seventeen) by Hannah Ford Read Free Book Online Page B

dazed and
disoriented, and there there were scratches all over
her face.   When Clementine asked her
what had happened, Lilah said she couldn’t remember, but she thought maybe
she’d put the scratches there herself.
    Clementine took Lilah to the hospital for a
psych eval, and Noah drove us there to meet them, gunning the engine of his
car, tapping his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel at every single
red light.
    “I don’t understand why Clementine brought her
to the hospital,” I said as we pulled up in front of the hospital.   The wind whipped at my hair as I stepped
onto the sidewalk, a uniformed parking lot attendant opening the door for me as
another swooped in to take Noah’s car to the valet lot.
    “Because Lilah was obviously in distress,” Noah
said.   “We have no idea what’s going
on with this girl, Charlotte.”
    “You mean she’s unhinged because she slit a
man’s throat?”
    Noah turned to me and gave me a glaring
look.   “No, because she has been
through a trauma.”
    I knew better than to talk back.
    Noah had told Clementine to head back to Loft
37 and that we would meet her there, so Noah and I followed the signs to the
emergency room, where they told us Lilah had been taken to the third floor
psychiatric department.
    We took the stairs instead of the elevator,
somewhat of a relief to me, after what had happened the last time we’d been in
an elevator together.
    When we reached the third floor, Noah talked to
the receptionist, who said she would go find the doctor.
    Noah waited about thirty seconds for her to
come back before apparently deciding he’d had enough.   He walked past reception, heading down a
long hallway that had examining rooms leading off of it.
    “Noah,” I said, following him.   “Slow down.”
    A doctor with grey hair and a beard was walking
toward us from the other end of the hallway.
    “Are you Mr. Cutler?” he asked when we met in
the middle.
    “Yes,” Noah said.
    The doctor nodded gravely.   “Please come with me, Mr. Cutler.”  
    I started to follow them, but the doctor turned
and stopped me.   “I’m sorry,” he
said.   “But I’m not authorized to
talk about Lilah’s case with anyone but Mr. Cutler.”
    “Oh, it’s fine,” I said.   “I’m part of her legal team.”
    “This isn’t a legal matter,” the doctor said,
admonishing me.   “This is a health
matter, and because of confidentiality laws, I can only speak with the people
Lilah has authorized me to talk with.”
    And then I got it.   This wasn’t part of Lilah’s case, at
least not technically.   She wasn’t
here to be evaluated by an expert witness who would speak to her mental state
at the time of her boyfriend’s murder.
    She was here to be evaluated for whatever it
was she was struggling with in this immediate moment.   This had nothing to do with the case,
and everything to do with her personal mental health.
    “I’ll be back,” Noah said to me, and then he
was following the doctor, leaving me there in the hallway.
    I wasn’t sure what to do with myself, so I sat
down on one of the cedar plank benches that lined the walls.   The air in here felt stale, as if it had
been sitting for a while.   I guessed
that the psych ward probably didn’t allow their patients to have their windows
open, which probably accounted for the fact that the air felt so still.
    I could hear the soft murmur of voices coming
from the different rooms, which all had heavy steel doors, some of which were
open.   Somehow the soft voices were
more eerie than if there had been screaming and moaning, or banging and
freaking out.  
    My skin felt itchy, and I reached down and
scratched my leg.
    I had a lash across my ankles, a mark from
where Noah had whipped me.   That,
along with the marks on my wrists from last night, were sore and raw, and
looking at them left me with an unsettled feeling.
    After Force, Noah had been so soft with me,
almost like he was afraid I was going