by Kelly Moore
I park my bike outside the three-story plaza and make my way up to Dr. Ian Sanders’s office on the third floor. I began therapy with him a year ago. At first, it was once a week. I’ve graduated from that and now see him once a month or more on the rare occasion when things seem out of control. As long as I keep my life pretty routine, most of the issues have subsided.
I open the door to the small, softly lit waiting room and plop down in a chair that has fluffy blue-colored throw pillows, reminding me of the same shade of Reese’s blouse. This woman is going to spell trouble for me, I can feel it.
The inner door swings open, and Ian smiles at me. “Come on in. I’ve been waiting for you.”
I stand and brush my hands down my jeans. “Sorry, I got caught up at work.”
He has two leather chairs that sit in front of a large window overlooking a garden that has statues of women perched in the middle of it. I always choose them rather than the couch in front of his desk. I sit, and he joins me with his pad of paper and pen.
“I sincerely hope you’re getting out and not working all the time. We’ve talked about that.” He crosses a leg over a knee.
“I went to a party.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that. Did you enjoy yourself?”
I relished my time with Aubrey, but that’s not something I want to discuss with him. “Yes.”
“What else have you done?”
“I’ve been riding my motorcycle when I can.”
“How about dating?”
“I see someone every now and then.” I lean my elbows on my knees.
“Anything serious?”
“No, just a mutual understanding between friends.”
He scribbles something on his note pad. “Do you ever meet anyone you’re interested in?”
I stand and look out the window. “I have this tendency to be profoundly drawn to a person right away. It’s like I feel this instant connection on a deeper level.”
“Is that how it was with Lyla?”
I can feel the little squeeze in my heart running up to my throat. “Yes.” I swallow down my emotions. “The first time I laid eyes on her, we connected.”
“Have you felt that for anyone since her?”
I chuckle and sit. “Strangely enough, I felt it for a woman that I have no business making any acquaintance with.”
“Why’s that?”
“Number one, she’s someone I’m supposed to be working closely with.” I pick at a seam on the arm of the chair.
“And?” he asks.
“And what?”
“You said number one. There has to be a number two.” He laughs this time.
“She’s the total opposite of Lyla.”
“Can you give me some examples?”
I stand again and pace in front of the window. “Lyla was fragile, yet brave in many ways. She was broken on the inside, but when she let me in, it was with her entire heart…at least the parts that weren’t too shattered. This woman is strong, opinionated, and far too self-confident. And those are only a few of the things I learned about her in the thirty minutes I spent talking with her.” My voice has raised.
“You think those are bad traits?”
“No, but how can I be so drawn to her when she’s the complete opposite of Lyla, and I’ve just met her?” I run my hand through my hair. “What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t it be a slow burn rather than sparks flying, zapping me out of nowhere?”
He lays the pad of paper on the side table next to him and folds his hands in his lap. “Sounds like to me, that your heart knows what you need. Maybe you should listen to it rather than your head.”
“I don’t want to listen to it. The last thing I want is something more than I can bear.” I sit again. “I have bigger issues right now.”
“I think this is a pertinent one worth discussing, but what else is going on?”
“I tried to get out of it, but I have to go to a bar and listen to a young girl perform with her band.”
“Ah. That is a hard one for you, but maybe it’s time to face your demons.”
“I like my demons,” I say sarcastically.
“You’ve come a long way, but you hold so much back. I know loving and losing Lyla were both equally devastating to you.”
My brows dart together. “How was loving Lyla devastating?”
“You had never loved anyone before. You opened your heart to someone that was so deeply broken inside that she couldn’t escape it.” He uncrosses his legs. “Tell me something, Jameson. If you had to do it all over again with Lyla, would you?”
I let my head fall back on the chair and think about his question. She was a gorgeous woman with a beautiful soul, damaged but intriguing. I didn’t have a choice as to whether or not to fall in love with her, she was love to me. I didn’t want to escape it; I loved her enough for both of us. I know that she loved me with everything she had left in her, and for that, I wouldn’t change a thing.
“Yes,” I finally answer him.
“Even if that outcome were still the same?”
“Yes. Lyla needed me, and I needed her. I had never felt as alive inside as I was when we were together.”
“And yet, you wouldn’t want to try to risk that feeling for someone else?”
“It’s not a matter of willing, I won’t.”
“Then I’m afraid we haven’t made as much progress as I thought we had.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I rarely have nightmares anymore, and I sleep well at night. I haven’t had a panic attack in months.”
“But you’re still not putting yourself out there to find love again.”
“You don’t find love. It finds you.”
“Yet, you’re cutting any notion of love off at the knees by dismissing any real attraction you might have for someone. You only open yourself up to what you deem safe, i.e., ‘a mutual understanding between friends.’” He throws my words back at me.
“I don’t want any more than that. I’m perfectly fine with the way my life is going.”
“I know you think that, but you have issues you’ve yet to deal with and ignoring them will not help in the long run.”
I blow out a long, deep breath of air. “I’m sure your professional opinion is right.”
“It’s not a matter of being right, Jameson. It’s a matter of getting you to a healthy place for a relationship with true feelings to happen. I don’t want you to be afraid of that uncanny pull you have to another person. It’s a gift, not a curse.”
“It shouldn’t be that way. I should be able to control it.”
“Who says it shouldn’t be that way? Some people are drawn together by forces we don’t understand.” He shrugs. “Back to your other issue, which isn’t any less important, I don’t usually suggest my patients drink, but you’ll need something to relax you before you go into the bar. Do you still have the Xanax I prescribed you?”
“Yes.”
“Then I suggest you take it about an hour before you go, but no drinking with it. Practice your deep breathing and for god’s sake, stay out of that head of yours.” He chuckles at the last part and picks up his pad of paper and starts writing notes. “I have some tasks for you that I think will help.” He tears the sheet of yellow paper from its pad, handing it to me.
I read over it.
* * *
Go on a date.
Make a real connection.
Passionately kiss without it being planned or forced.
Make love to a woman and not just have sex.
Let Lyla go.
* * *
I wad it up and shove it into my pocket when I stand. “I’m not interested in doing any of these things, but nice try, Doc.”
He walks me to the door. “Same time next month unless you need me sooner.”
“Actually, I think I’m okay.”
He holds out his hand. “It’s your money you’re wasting if you don’t want to do the work. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, Jameson
. I’m hoping you’ll change your mind and I’ll see you next month.”
I shake his hand and head to my bike. As I straddle it, my phone vibrates again. I’m tempted to not answer it, but it’s Greg’s cell phone number flashing on the screen.
“What’s up, man?”
“It’s Reese, not Greg, if you didn’t recognize it from the voice.” She laughs at her own words. “Mine’s a little higher pitched than his.”
When I don’t respond, she starts talking again. “He let me borrow his phone. I thought maybe you wouldn’t pick up for a stranger’s number because I forgot to give you mine.” Her edgy voice vibrates in my ear.
“Is there a point to this call?” God, I’m an ass, but I don’t want to bond with her.
“I’m going to text you the information on the time and place The Blind Shadows will be playing.”
“Who?”
“The girl and the band I wanted you to hear.”
“They’re called the Blind Shadows? I’d recommend they change their name.” I chuckle.
“You might want to wait and meet them before you go trying to change anything.” Her voice has gone from edgy to corporate sounding.
“Just send me the information.” I hang up and start the throaty purr of my bike. I don’t head back to work. I ride until I feel all the frustration leave my body and head to the peacefulness of my floating house. I park my bike among a treed area that lines the front of the two-story metal frame house that’s adorned with a light caramel-colored wood. There’s a long set of stairs that lead out to the house. The railing is silver, and the stairs have lights underneath that shine into the water. I walk out onto the back deck where I keep a minibar and unscrew the cap off a bottle of bourbon. I drink it down as I look over the water and the pinkness of the sky as the sun starts its descent. Lyla would’ve loved the privacy of this place. God, I still miss her. I have a good understanding of how she felt and that the brokenness inside her that never healed.
“Here’s to you, Lyla.” I lift the bottle and drink it down. I let it soothe me, relaxing into it until I get the relief I relish so much. I stumble through the doors that open up the length of the house and kick my shoes off, with the half-empty bottle still in my grasp. I lie down on my oversized couch and drape an arm over my face. My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I fish it out. I glance at it before I toss it on the coffee table and it falls onto the wood floor.
“I’ll see you then, Reese Adams,” I mumble in an alcohol-soaked slur, slowly placing the bottle on the table, and drift off to sleep.
* * *
“Your body fits so tight with mine,” I rasp in a breath-starved voice as I rock my hips back and forth into Lyla.
“Jameson.” She sounds enchanting, lulling me to move deeper.
“You. Feel. So. Damn. Sweet.” Her legs wrap tighter around my ass, cocooning me into her.
“Please don’t stop.” Her plea is not for mercy. She wants everything that I can give her and more. She’s fiercely demanding my body to heel to hers. “I love you, Jameson. Don’t ever forget that.”
Her words ignite that part of my heart she touches without knowing it. I swallow her lips and delve into the taste of her mouth. It’s as delicious as she is.
With one last thrust, she pulsates around me, claiming my body as hers as I let go. Sweat drips from my forehead, matching the sheen of wetness on my body
I close my eyes and lean in for another sip of her lips. Her broken moan slips quietly. Opening my eyes, I see her start to fade right in front of me.
* * *
I bolt up, short of breath. My heart is pounding ferociously from the cruelness of losing her in my dream. Lifting the bottle of bourbon to my dry, cracked mouth, I gulp it down instead of the air I need in my lungs. Raising my arm back, I smash the bottle into the fireplace. It breaks with pieces of glass shattering on the floor around it.
My eyes haze over as I stare at the broken pieces that resemble my heart. I fumble my way over on my knees and try to pick them up, slicing my hand open. “I couldn’t put you back together either, Lyla.” A brutal yell is forced from my chest. I manage to tug off my shirt and wrap it around my bleeding hand. I fold over onto my knees and cry until I pass out.
Chapter 4
“God, my head is pounding.” I roll off the couch onto my hands and knees, wincing when my hand lands on the floor. “What the hell?” I sit, leaning against the sofa. Dried blood clings to my shirt on the floor next to me. I look toward the fireplace and see the shattered bottle.
“Shit.” I remember the dream. Getting off the wood floor, I head to the bathroom and run my hand under water, washing off the blood. The cut’s deep, but it’s too late for stitches. Rummaging through the medicine cabinet, I find antibiotic ointment and gauze dressing. After I’ve secured the bandage, I change my clothes and feel something in my pocket. It’s the yellow note from the doc. Maybe he’s right. I need a new focus. I head for the coffee pot and uncrumple the paper, sticking it on the fridge with a magnet in the shape of Tennessee. Sometimes I long to be back there, calling it home.
I hear my phone ringing and follow the sound. Bending down, I reach under the couch and grab it, where it must’ve fallen last night. Doesn’t she ever give up? I know it’s her without even having her number. “It’s early, Reese.” I answer it without a hello.
“Um, no, it’s one o’clock in the afternoon.”
I take the phone away from my ear long enough to glance at the time, then scratch my forehead. “Sorry, it was a long night.”
“Out having fun with your girlfriend, eh?” She snorts. I hear road noise and know she’s on her Bluetooth.
“I’m sure there was a purpose for this call.” I make my way over to the coffee pot and pour myself a cup.
“I wanted to make sure you received the email I sent you on the time and place to see The Blind Shadows. They’re at a local dive on Friday night. It’s the only time I’ll be in town to see them. I’ve got to fly to New York for a couple of days.”
“You don’t have to be there. I’m capable of making a decision on my own.” My tone is as snarky as my gruff laugh.
“I want to be there,” she snaps. “Are you always this cranky? You and I only have so many do-overs.”
I can’t see her, but I can picture her perching her hands on her hips. Why am I envisioning her at all? But, she’s right. We do have to work together, and it’s not her fault that I’m attracted to her. “Where are you? Do you have time for a late lunch?” I cut my eyes over at the yellow piece of paper to see if I can scratch anything off the list.
“Actually, I’m starved, and I’m only about thirty minutes from you.”
“Meet me at a place called The Joint.”
“Sounds very upscale.” She laughs, and for the first time, I notice that it’s beautiful, like a song lulling me in.
“Best burgers you’ll find anywhere in California.”
“Mmm…I love a good burger. I’ll find it and meet you there.”
I pour my coffee down the drain and run upstairs for a quick shower, but don’t take the time to shave. I pull a pair of blue jeans on with a dark gray t-shirt.
Backing my Porsche out of the garage, I head to the restaurant. When I pull into the parking lot, she’s standing outside the front door, talking on the phone. Her long, lean legs look good in the red high heels she’s wearing with her navy slacks and blouse. She looks too dressy to be at this place.
She casts her eyes over the rim of her glasses and smiles when she sees me. “That’s a sweet ride,” she says, hanging up her phone.
“Thanks.” I hold the door open for her, and she sashays inside.
“This is exactly how I pictured it when you said, ‘The Joint.’” Her nose makes that cute little scrunch again.
“Take a seat wherever you’d like.” A waitress dressed in black slacks with a red apron tied around her waist motions to the tables.
I grab a menu from the hostess stand as we walk by. Rees
e picks a booth near the bar. I slide in across from her and hand her the menu.
“Only one?” She picks it up with one hand as her other one removes her sunglasses.
“I already know what I want.”
“Then whatever it is, order me one too.” She stuffs her glasses and phone in her purse that has a Coach emblem on the front of it.
“Are you sure? I like spicy.”
“I can handle some spice.” Her lips curve into a playful smile.
“It’s more than spicy. It’s called the Hell Burger.”
“I’m sure it will be fine.” She waves me off.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I chuckle.
“That was a nice sound coming from you.”
She takes me off guard with her comment. “See, I can be in a good mood.”
“I was beginning to think that wasn’t possible,” she mutters.
The waitress takes our order and disappears. “What do you have going on in New York?”
“A few personal things and I’m meeting with my old boss to go over some unfinished business. I’ve got backstage passes to the last band I signed for them. They’re an awesome hip-hop group.”
The waitress brings our drinks to the table. “Is that your favorite type of music?”
“I like all kinds.” She sips her water. “What about you? Do you have a preference?”
I want to say that Lyla’s music is what I’m drawn to, but I don’t. “I’m a fan of country, being that I grew up in Nashville.”
“That makes sense.”
“Where are you from?”
“Originally New York, but I’ve lived overseas for several years.”
“What made you decide to come back to the States and work for Monster Music.”
She takes another gulp of her water. “Look at you asking questions. Be careful, we just may become friends.” Her eyes sparkle when she teases me.