“I’m here to see Dr. Feinstein.” Audrey offered the receptionist a smile. “I’m—”
The woman gave a curt nod that had the shellacked ash blonde curls of her short hair bobbing. “Dr. Graham. Of course. I remember you from your interview. Welcome back. He’s tied up with someone just now. If you’ll have a seat.”
Audrey lowered herself into one of the low-backed waiting room chairs, rubbing absently at the ache in her legs. It had been a long flight from Tennessee. Whatever happened with this meeting, she needed a walk before she went back to the hotel. Pulling out the iPad she’d loaded with research literature, she tried to focus enough to read, but every discussion of survivor’s guilt and PTSD had her thinking of Hudson.
Missing him was an ache that rivaled her legs. She hadn’t heard from h
