She hesitates, glances at the door, and then back at me. Ryan is nowhere in sight. She absentmindedly picks at the edge of the roll of tape.

“Both times I’ve seen him, he examines my ankle and shows me certain exercises I can do to strengthen it,” she says. “But then he also says the reason I have trouble with it has something to do with my hips. So he has me roll down my leggings a little, and he holds my hips and watches me bend over.”

She doesn’t make eye contact. She keeps picking at the tape.

I don’t know enough about medicine to know if she’s describing a legitimate professional encounter or something far more sinister. But something feels off to me.

She pulls her knees up to her chest. “He’s a doctor,” she points out. “My mom was in the room with me both times. She didn’t think anything of it.”

When Hallie finally looks up at me, her eyes are bright and glassy with tears.

“It’s never okay for him to make you feel uncomfortable,” I say. “Not even if he’s a respected doctor, and not even if your mom is in the room.”

“Got it,” she says. She digs her chin into her knee.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” I say.

She shrugs.

“It might be helpful to tell your mom,” I suggest gently. “That way, she’ll be sure not to bring you back to him.”

I don’t want to pressure Hallie into saying anything she’s not ready for, but also, her parents should probably know—and I’m not sure it’s my place to tell them. I remember how daunted I felt at her age by the prospect of being vulnerable with my parents. But I wish I had been more open with them.

“Maybe later,” she says. “Not right now. And can you please not tell Ryan about this?” she asks.

She looks at me so expectantly, I don’t know how to say no.

“Sure,” I say, leaning forward to wrap her in a hug.

Hallie leans her forehead against my shoulder and lets me embrace her. I feel this odd wave of maternal instinct, and so I stroke her hair and rub soothing circles on her back. She exhales.

Chapter 11

• CHAPTER 11 •