Still, if she could get out of here, why not?

At that moment, she heard a tapping. Turning, she saw the little bird from earlier sitting on the sill. It tapped a few more times and looked at her expectantly.

Opportunity knocking?

Or a bird merely seeing its reflection?

Either way, she could fly the coop if she told this uptight, squeaked-when-she-walked woman that she was cool doing this therapy crap. A week or so at the beach house, some outpatient therapy with this chick, and she’d be done. Ready to work. And this time she would truly keep her nose clean. She’d actually paid attention to some of the exercises in the workbook she’d been forced to do. For some reason, this time she got honest with herself about some things and was sure she could come out on the other side of addiction and stay there.

Chase looked back at Olivia. “You’re not going to use shrink tricks on me. I hate that bullshit.”

Olivia studied her again. “You may be the most mistrustful person I’ve ever met.”

Chase stared right back at her. “I’m sure you’ll fix me right up.”

“You’ll have to sign the agreement before you’re released from Cedar Point.”

A niggle of something squirmed inside her brain, but then Dr. Gary Watkins, Dr. Caterpillar himself, stuck his head inside the door, looking impatient. “We’re waiting for you, Miss London. Again.”

“Keep waiting. I’m busting out.”

Dr. Watkins raised his creepy bushy eyebrows nearly to his receding hairline; then he looked over at Olivia, who stood framed against the door. For a moment he stared, maybe because Olivia was totally out of his league. She wasn’t hot, but she was confident and elegant. “What’s going on here?”

Olivia extended her hand. “Hello.”

He took her hand, squinting his eyes like he was trying to figure out exactly who she was and why Chase was getting out. His caterpillar brows wriggled.

“I’m Olivia Han, and I’ll be—”

“Olivia Han?” he interrupted.

“I’ve been hired to work with Miss London. You should have gotten a call from her mother and the court at the beginning of the week?”

“I didn’t.” He dropped her hand, looking confused. “I know exactly who you are. You know, we both attended a workshop on accelerated resolution therapy at Berkeley a few summers back.”

Olivia donned an impersonal smile, folding her hands in front of her. “A very different approach for PTSD therapy.” An awkward pause ensued before Olivia said, “I don’t want to hold you up. I know your patients need you.”

Dr. Watkins still looked weirded out. “Yeah. I should go.”

But he didn’t look like he wanted to. His earlier irritation had fled to be replaced by intense interest in Olivia. Maybe she was a big deal in the world of shrinks.

Her new therapist glanced back at Chase. “Pack your things, and call reception when you’re done. My assistant will have you sign the paperwork and then take you to my car. Dr. Watkins, I’ll walk with you to group therapy, if you don’t mind. I have a few questions.”