Liam looked at the chair as if it had been placed there specifically to punish him.
It was absurd. He knew that. There were no straps. No Canmore physician standing over him with false patience, waiting to write another elegant lie in a report that would follow him for years.
It was only a chair.
A scanner.
A physician who had called his old records toilet paper and meant it.
And Arik.
Arik stepped closer and placed one hand on Liam's shoulder, the warmth of his palm bleeding through the thick, expensive material of Liam's shirt.
"I will be here," Arik said calmly. "I would comfort you better, but you need to avoid contact with anyone who might influence the readings."
Liam said nothing.
His hands had fisted at his sides.
