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No. She shouldn’t assume the worst, or that’s all she’d see, all she’d attract. Maybe the woman had made peace with the circumstances and came to tell her.
Mallory entered the office, power dressed in an elegant white-linen suit, exuding confidence—not that she hadn’t always looked after herself, consistently appearing impeccable, self-assured.
“Hi, Mallory, good to see you.” Sage forced what she hoped passed as a calm, warm smile and gestured to the closest chair.
She sat, and Sage took the seat opposite, the furniture placement discouraging distance and facilitating clients to open up, to speak freely.
The woman’s eyes locked on hers. “Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I saw what happened. I was parking my car and…”
Sage leaned forward. “What did you see?”
“A silver car nearly plowed into you.”
Shit. Yes. “Did you notice anything about the driver?”
“Male. Around thirty. Brown hair, sunglasses.”
Miles. The description fit him like a proverbial glove. Fuck.
“Is that what you saw?” Mallory mirrored Sage’s body language, a concerned crease in her forehead.
“To be honest, it’s a blur. I focused on how I could escape.” She studied Mallory’s eyes. “Did you get the license plate?”
She glanced toward the ceiling. “No, sorry. It all happened too fast.”
Damn. Though, Mallory’s description helped—or at least she hoped it would.
“No worries.” Sage got into her interested-therapist position—a slight lean forward, open posture, no crossed limbs—encouraging eye contact. “So, what did you want to speak about today?”
“Update you on where I’m at. I’ve started a new job. I’m getting myself back on track.” A wave of pain rolled over her face, and she sighed. “Those first few months were really hard. Horrific. But I worked out a way to give me some peace, to help me move on.”
“That’s fantastic. I’m rapt to hear you’ve found a positive way forward.”
“I decided Donovan would’ve wanted it.”
“Yes. He frequently spoke about wanting you to be happy.” And himself, but he didn’t believe he could achieve it. He’d been permanently scarred by his military service, and diverted his thinking onto what would please his wife instead.
Except his skewed assessment determined she’d be better off without him. Had he even asked her about it? Asked what she wanted?
Going by Mallory’s hysterical grief response to his passing, Sage doubted it. And raising it now would only pick the scab off old, festering, emotional wounds, not change the devastating outcome.
“Did you ever speak to a counselor about what happened?”
Mallory gave her a half shrug. “I tried, and it caused more pain. It dredged up a past I couldn’t alter, so I canceled the remaining sessions. Luckily I have a good social network and, as they say, time is a great healer.”
“It’s really important to have solid supports around you.”
“It is.” Mallory tugged on the hem of her jacket. “Anyway, thank you for seeing me.”
“Thank you for stopping by to let me know how you’re doing, and for your eye-witness account of my almost-hit-and-run incident.”
Mallory stood and waved her hand in an ‘it’s nothing’ gesture. “No problem at all. Karma will ensure people get what they deserve.”
An icy fist of dread seized Sage’s heart. Hadn’t her tormentor written similar words? She’d double-check, but so what? It didn’t prove anything. Lots of people used that expression, believed it. It didn’t mean Mallory was the bad guy, or in this case, woman.
