Free The Wish List by Myrna Mackenzie

dusted off the picture of Joanna and Amy and put it back on the shelf this morning. As a reminder of what was important. As punishment.
    “Nathan?” she asked when he didn’t answer right away.
    “I’m here,” he assured her. “Is something wrong? Why are you calling?” His voice was gruffer than he had intended. Long seconds ticked by.
    Maybe she was calling to say she’d had enough of him.
    Maybe she was backing out the door the way he’d dared her to just a short time ago.
    “Nathan, I’m calling because I—well, I can’t be there tonight. My son—Cory’s sick. The flu. I don’t want to leave him, and besides, his baby-sitter has little ones, too. It wouldn’t be right to expose her or to ask her to care for a sick child. But don’t worry. I’ve found other therapists to fill in for me all day. I just wanted to let you know someone else would be coming by.”
    So Faith was finally getting smart and leaving him behind.
    Nathan looked across the room at the likeness of Joanna and forced himself to face the woman who represented all his failures, the woman who would be laughing right now if she could. He’d always been the one canceling out on his wife, a poor excuse for a husband. Her silent censure had told him so every time he’d been called away to the hospital, leaving her alone. She’d never been able to count on him, not even to protect her. He’d hurt her and hadn’t deserved her.
    He didn’t deserve Faith, either. Faith with her tough-as-nails stance and her eyes like frosty blue icicles when her back was to the wall. But oh, those icicles melted and turned to flame when a man held her close and quenched his thirst with her lips.
    Nathan swore. He should never have taken advantage of her, rubbing away at her veneer and exposing the woman beneath, the one who could be hurt by a man like him. But no matter...because now he didn’t have to worry about that. She was withdrawing as his therapist. That was what this was really all about.
    She was giving up on him, backing off. Which was what he’d wanted all along, wasn’t it?
    Absolutely. So why—why in hell—did he feel so angry?
    “Nathan,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “Listen. The woman who’s coming is named Penny Damen. She’ll be there—”
    “No. No one’s coming. Don’t send her.” Nathan’s voice was low and hard. “My door’s closed. And anyway, I’m surprised at you, Faith. I wouldn’t have thought anything could make you run. Not even me. If that’s what this is about, then you don’t need to worry. I won’t touch you again. Call off your other therapist. I’ll keep my gratitude to myself from now on. You can depend on it.”
    Full silence greeted Nathan’s speech. It dragged out over the telephone wires and hung in the air as he waited. Four seconds. Five. Then, “You think I’m canceling on you because of yesterday? You think I’d back away just because a man, because a patient—”
    “Slipped his tongue between your lips? Nipped your throat with his teeth? It’s not exactly standard therapy procedure, Faith. And while I may be surprised, I certainly wouldn’t blame you for walking away.”
    He could almost see her chest heaving, her eyes flashing blue-green sparks.
    “Well, I would blame me, Nathan. What kind of therapist do you think I am? One who blows away in a breeze or bolts every time something unexpected comes up?”
    He wanted to laugh at that. Leave it to Faith to term a male patient wrapping his body around hers “something unexpected.” Well, he supposed it was. Just as he supposed she was right. Remembering the way she’d pushed her way into his life against all his objections and threats, he couldn’t imagine her turning tail and running now. Even though he wouldn’t blame her.
    “All right,” he finally said. “You’re no coward. I’ll give you that, and nobody knows that better than me. So just put the dagger away, Faith. You win. I believe you. Your son is sick