Trauma was weird. Francis knew that from his experiences in the healthcare industry, of course. He just hadn’t quite understood how deeply something could affect him personally.
He’d called Evy after he’d moved to the Grahams’ house, just so he’d have someone who knew about the situation to use as a sounding board.
“Of course you can call me, Francis,” she said after he questioned it.
“It’s just… isn’t there a conflict of interest here?” Francis asked weakly as he sat on his bed at the upstairs guestroom.
“No, because I’m not your therapist, or Mark’s, and you’re both my friends, and I would still never break the confidentiality of my discussions with you two.” She must’ve been smiling, he could hear it in her voice when she asked, “So, what’s going on with you, then?”
Francis smiled.
