I dropped my gaze because that meant a lot to me. He’d never said anything affectionate to me before. I worked hard to make his life easier when I could slack off and get away with much less, but I truly cared about his happiness. It seemed like he cared about mine too, because he agreed to do this when he didn’t want to.
Dr. Collins stared at him for a long time, like his admission was some kind of breakthrough. “Have you told anyone about this session?”
Derek’s gaze returned to his. “No.”
“So, Emerson is the only person who knows?”
“Yes.”
“Is it safe to say that she’s the closest person to you?”
It was a loaded question, and Derek clearly didn’t know how to answer it. “If that’s how you want to quantify it, then yes.”
“Is she someone who knows you better than anyone else?”
“I don’t understand why the entire topic of our discussion is Emerson,” Derek countered.
“I’m just trying to get to know you,” Dr. Collins said. “And based on this interaction, I feel like her presence in your life is your most fundamental component. If you don’t talk to anyone else but her, then she’s your biggest supporter in life. Do you disagree with that statement?”
After a long pause, he shook his head. “No.”
My eyes softened.
“I have friends I spend time with, but we don’t have deep conversations. I’m close with my family, but I don’t really have deep conversations with them either. When Emerson started to work for me, I treated her the way I treat everyone else—with indifference. But once she became an invaluable person in my life, that started to change. I don’t trust people often, if ever, and she’s forced me to do that. Well, she didn’t force me… She proved to me that I could.”
“Why don’t you trust people?”
Derek rubbed his fingers across his shadowed jawline. “Because I’ve got a target on my back.”
“Could you elaborate?”
“I’m rich, brilliant, different…and people try to take advantage of me. Emerson doesn’t.”
“What about your romantic relationships? When was the last time you had one?”
Derek looked away, as if the question made him uncomfortable. “This isn’t relevant.”
“Your answer makes it relevant.”
He rubbed his jawline again. “Ten years ago.”
He hadn’t had a meaningful relationship with anyone in ten years? I hadn’t either…and it was ironic.
“And what happened in that relationship?” Dr. Collins asked.
Derek didn’t answer. “Ever since I can remember, I’ve wanted to be in the stars. My initial ambition was to be an astronaut. That was my goal. But the older I became, the more grades I skipped, the higher my scores went, I realized that my mind should be used more effectively, which was why I decided to work behind the scenes and send people to the stars instead of going there myself.” His hands came together in his lap. “It was my dream to work at NASA, and when I left graduate school, it was my first job. I designed a new rocket, took me years to develop it from an idea to a working piece of machinery. But when it was scheduled to launch, I discovered an error. I tried everything I could to stop that rocket from launching, but…” Derek didn’t finish the story. All he did was shake his head and fall silent, like he didn’t have the heart to give the ending.
Dr. Collins was quiet, giving him the opportunity to finish. When Derek didn’t, he spoke again. “It was Odyssey 3, wasn’t it?”
Derek didn’t look at him. All he did was give a slight nod.
Dr. Collins spent his time staring at Derek, like silence was better than words.
Derek absorbed the silence a long time. “That’s why I’m such a hard-ass now, with my employees and my students. Because errors cost lives, and you shouldn’t be in this business unless you can make sure errors don’t happen.” His chin rested against his knuckles, and he stared at the floor.
“Did you do everything you could to stop it?”
Derek’s eyes shifted back to his, and slowly, emotion filled his gaze. “I warned my boss a dozen times. Then I went to the director. And then I went to the astronauts…and that was when they fired me.” He inhaled a deep breath, and when he released it, it was loud and shaky.
“That sounds like a yes.”
He closed his eyes, and a single tear ran down his cheek. “But I built that fucking rocket…” His voice came out as a whisper, so quiet that we wouldn’t have been able to hear him if there were any other sounds in the penthouse.
It was hard to see him like this, to see someone so good carry so much pain. He was the best person I’d ever met, a man who believed in preserving lives instead of saving money. For someone who hated people, he cared about them more than everyone else. I moved closer to him and rested my hand on his arm, just so he would know that I was there, that he wasn’t alone, that I would carry whatever weight he would allow me.