Their Matchmaker

by Allyson Lindt

  “No, but it’s what you were thinking. About me and about you.”

  “How do you do that?” she asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “Reach in my head and pluck out my thoughts.”

  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t. I only tell you what’s on my mind.” He dipped his head, and her breath caught.

  When he kissed her, softly and sweetly, her thoughts evaporated. She leaned into him and rested her palms against his chest. He slid his hand to the back of her neck, holding her tight and deepening the kiss.

  She gripped his shirt, needing to hold onto something to stay grounded. The outdoor scents mingled with his aftershave. Need unfurled inside, flowing through her veins. This wasn’t right, but it felt that way. Conflict trickled inside, and she tried to bottle it.

  He pushed up the bottom of her shirt. His palm scorched her already hot skin. She wanted to keep going. Sink into his touch and attention.

  Logic revolted inside, and she summoned more strength than she thought she had, to push him back. “Aaron,” she forced out. It was a stupid thing to say, especially given what she witnessed last night. Why couldn’t she enjoy this? Because it wasn’t right. Because Gavin and Aaron belonged together, and it was obvious they still loved each other, regardless of everything either of them had done.

  Gavin’s pout was laced with a playful glint. “We broke up.”

  She hated and adored that he made that look good. “Bullshit, you did.”

  “Fine. You’re right.” He slumped back, breaking all contact. “But what if the temporary becomes permanent? I fucked up pretty hard. He’d be justified in not waiting for me.”

  He’s not. She swallowed the retort. She didn’t know what transpired after she left. Probably exactly what she assumed, but she couldn’t blurt out things that she didn’t have proof of. “If that’s what happens, then so be it, but you can’t give up. You belong together.” As she said the words, something new pinged inside. A confession she hadn’t let herself vocalize until now. It was going to hurt like hell to be on the outside of their relationship after all this, but she couldn’t be selfish with something as solid and real as what she saw between them.

  “Besides”—anger surged inside, raw and unexpected—“you don’t get to do this to me. Use me as a replacement, to fill the hole in your heart.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Don’t.” If she let him speak, he’d talk her out of what she was feeling. “You might not think that’s what you’re doing, but this doesn’t go anywhere. Whether you leave Aaron or you and he get back together, you and I don’t have that kind of relationship. If my friendship means so little to you that you’re willing to fuck it away, to replace the emptiness inside? I don’t want to be a part of that.”

  “Cynthia, that’s not what this is.” He grabbed her wrist as she stood.

  “Then what is it?” She looked him in the eye, refusing to read anything into the pleading in his expression. “Explain it.”

  “I can’t.”

  She jerked out of his grasp. “Then I’m done here.” Walking away hurt more than she expected, but not as much as suspecting he would have been happy to use her if she hadn’t called him on it.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  IN HIS SKULL, GAVIN shouted until he was hoarse. He kicked the wall, threw things across the room, and stomped his feet like a toddler at his worst tantrum. How dare Cynthia throw this back in his face? He wasn’t doing any of the things she accused him of. If she wasn’t interested, she could say so, instead of wrapping it in excuses.

  Outside his head, he sat in the garden, staring at the ground, fingers knotted in his hair and forehead resting on his palms.

  He’d been a first-class asshole. As much as he wanted to be furious with her, he was the one who didn’t have his head on straight. He was everything Aaron had accused him of—selfish, irresponsible, and looking for a way to shift the blame to anybody who wasn’t him.

  He sat there as the sun drifted lower toward the horizon, until the sky flared with an orange-gray glow. It must be almost eight. Another thing he didn’t like about all this thinking he’d been doing—time slipped away from him.

  “Do you mind some company?” A female voice dragged him from his thoughts.

  He looked up to see Dr. Sandy Hyde, his onsite therapist, settling onto the bench next to him. He wasn’t in the mood to talk, but at the same time, being stuck in his thoughts wasn’t helping any. He shrugged.

  “You’ve been out here for a while.” Her tone was conversational.

  “It’s pleasant out here. Quiet.” He hadn’t been in the mood to talk to her much since he arrived. Their first few sessions consisted of him trying to push back on her, to figure out what made her tick. The woman was a fucking brick wall, though, so he’d dialed himself back to one-word answers. He didn’t want anyone poking around in his head if he couldn’t do the same in return. It wasn’t a fair trade.

  “It is.”

  Gavin waited for her to say something else. Seconds ticked away. He glanced at her, and she gave him a smile before returning her attention to the garden. He knew how this worked. She hoped he’d talk to fill the void if she stayed silent. “Should we do this in your office?” he asked.

  “Not my first choice for where I’d spend my Saturday night, but you’re welcome to head in there if you’d like. I think I’ll stay here.”

  He didn’t want to dance around thoughts or feelings. He’d rather be wallowing in his frustration with life. The sooner she left, the sooner he could do that. “This isn’t going to work.”

  “What’s not?”

  Gavin clenched his jaw. “Whatever you’re doing. I don’t want to talk. I’m not going to spill my guts just because you joined me.” Had he said too much? That implied there was something for him to spill.

  She studied his face for a moment, her expression as blank and impossible to read as always, except for the pity in her eyes. “What I’m doing is enjoying the evening. Anything you read into it beyond that is you projecting.”

  “Which is your goal.” This was the most he’d gotten her to say since he arrived. If he poked a little more, could he find his angle with the doctor?

  “If you say so.”

  Gavin’s irritation surged until it spilled out in a growl, and he stood. “I’m done here. Enjoy your evening, Dr. Hyde.” His feet didn’t move him toward the building, though.

  “All right. I’ll tell you what I’m thinking,” she said. “There’s never a single solution to any problem in life. Different things work for different people. However, there’s frequently an answer that works for most people. Some will sneer and say, That’s stupid. It’ll never work. Others will swear they want to do things that way, but never get around to it. Only a very small number of people will try it before deciding whether or not it’s for them.”

  Gavin had a suspicion about where this was going, but he kept his mouth shut. No reason to give her the satisfaction.

  She raised her brows. “Doesn’t matter the problem. It always works that way. This place—it’s a rehabilitation clinic. People are here because someone wanted them to find a solution. It was either their decision or a loved one’s. You checked yourself in. If you wanted to dry out and move on with life, you picked an expensive way to do it.”

  “But I’m not any of those. I don’t have a problem with the solution or giving it my all, but I don’t like soul-baring to be a one-way street.” Fuck. He didn’t mean to say that.

  “That’s how therapy works. I’m not your friend; I’m a mirror. The high-quality, makeup kind that shows off every pore and detail. If I reflect myself back at you, it doesn’t do you any good.”

  He didn’t like the analogy. Or maybe it was the little Aaron voice inside, saying she’s got a point, that Gavin didn’t care for. “That’s not going to work for me.”

  “Because you’re used to people bending to your will. To poking and prodding until you get the answer y
ou want.”

  Anger amplified his irritation. She didn’t have the right to make a snap analysis of him. That was one of the things he wanted to avoid. He wasn’t going to show she’d gotten under his skin, though. Saying, So do you, felt like an articulate version of, It takes one to know one. He’d go for the rational response instead. “If that were the case, I wouldn’t be hounded by fans. My boyfriend would understand where I was coming from. Cynthia wouldn’t have walked out of here upset.”

  Way to keep blaming everyone else. This time, the voice was his. When he was a child, people fell over themselves to give him what he wanted. If someone didn’t comply, they didn’t understand or were stupid or had cut their Hollywood career short.

  But Gavin outgrew that kind of selfishness. As an adult, he knew the world didn’t revolve around him.

  Dr. Hyde never flinched. “Are you here to address what’s really going on, or just get sober long enough to put yourself back in your loved ones’ lives?”

  “I’m going to bed.” Gavin headed toward the door. Fucking psychological games and bullshit.

  Retreat didn’t help. Perhaps because he didn’t get the final word, despite speaking last. He spent the night struggling to get comfortable, and failing. By about three in the morning, he gave up and lay on his back.

  His Sunday was a lot the same, but by Monday morning he had the solution. Go back to the way things were. Walk into Dr. Hyde’s office for his appointment, present the same brick wall she showed him, and prove he could be a mirror too.

  He took the same seat he always did, skipping the couch and opting for the chair across from her.

  She gave him a warm smile. “I wondered if you’d be here today.”

  Which was close to what he expected she’d say. He had his first few lines rehearsed and he’d improv from there. Of course I’m here, he’d tell her in a pleasant tone. I want to get better.

  “This is fucking bullshit.” No, no, no. That wasn’t what was supposed to come out. He could still backtrack. “You’ve got the nerve to tell me I don’t want to get better? To call me manipulative? That’s what you do for a fucking living—turn people’s words back on them.”

  “I didn’t say any of those things.”

  “But that’s what you meant.”

  “Did I?”

  “Just fucking stop.” Gavin ground his teeth when the words came out as a shout. “You don’t know anything about my situation beyond what’s on the admissions forms and gossip blogs. You don’t have anywhere near enough information to make assumptions or—God forbid—a bullshit diagnosis.”

  “You’re right; I don’t. Prove me wrong.”

  He gave a dark chuckle. “Fine. But not because you tricked me into it.”

  “I’m not trying to trick you into anything. Mirror, remember? But if you’d like a more direct question, who’s Cynthia?”

  Intelligent. Attractive. Infuriating. Sexy. But none of those words answered the who question. He wasn’t about to say I don’t know, and he wasn’t interested in digging deeper. The idea he’d treated Cynthia wrong gnawed at his joints until he ached. “She owns a company my partner invested in.” That was a simple truth. Deceptive, but simple.

  “The partner you severed ties with? Aaron?”

  “I’ve only ever had the one.” Another deceptively simple fact.

  “Is he abusive?”

  Gavin shook his head. “God no. He’s incredible.” At least that was true to its core.

  Dr. Hyde crossed her legs at the knee. “I want you to think about this before you answer, because I’m not saying it’s the case with the two of you. Abuse can come in a lot of forms. It doesn’t have to be physical or intentional. Just as often, it’s more of a feeling that he’s taken control from you. That if you make the wrong decision, you’ll be made to suffer.”

  The words hurt. “I accused him of that.” The things Gavin had said slammed back into his thoughts like a freight train, knocking his brain offline.

  “But it’s not true?” Dr. Hyde’s impassive mask was back.

  “I didn’t mean it. I shouldn’t have said it.”

  “I see.”

  Gavin should be frustrated she returned to the basic responses, but he was starting to understand. It felt good to talk like this. Frightening, but also a relief. He needed to make this right. Even if Aaron didn’t forgive him—though Gavin prayed to God he would—Gavin owed him a sincere apology. Admitting that to himself hurt, because it meant there was no one to blame but him. No wonder so many addicts stalled on Step Four. He was glad steps weren’t part of the process here.

  “Are you interested in having Aaron here, for some of these conversations?” Dr. Hyde asked.

  The question caught Gavin off-guard. Or maybe it was that he didn’t have an immediate response. “I don’t know if he’d agree to something like that.”

  “Is he as stubborn as you?”

  Gavin chuckled. “At least. But that’s not why. Once upon a time, he’d have done anything to help me get better, but I really fucked up.”

  “You never know if he’ll say yes until you ask.”

  GAVIN RAMBLED THROUGH the hall, mind whirring with next steps to take. After leaving a note with the administration office, to update Aaron’s status on his visitor list, it was time to make some calls.

  Aaron didn’t answer, and as disappointed as Gavin was, he wasn’t surprised. There was no reason for cryptic notes or generic call-me messages. He needed to lay things on the line. When the voicemail beeped, he said, “It’s me. I’m sorry. For so much more than I can sum up in the next minute, but it’s a long list. I want a chance to prove it to you. To make things right. I’d like to see you, and if you’re interested, introduce you to my therapist.”

  Cynthia didn’t pick up either. Gavin was less certain of what to say to her, so he disconnected without leaving a message.

  With Aaron, it was straightforward—Gavin loved and adored him, and owed him so much. When it came to Cynthia, Gavin had no idea where they stood or what they were. She took his calls as a friend. The sex was fun—incredible even. But if she were anyone else, he would have walked away without a second thought.

  She wasn’t anyone else, though. Besides Aaron, she was the only other person he really trusted. Really cared about. And he didn’t know how to reconcile that with their lack of a relationship.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  AARON STOOD ON THE balcony, staring out over the city but not registering it. He was trying his hardest to keep his mind blank. To shove aside thoughts about Gavin and Cyn, about the colossal fail the weekend was, about his lack of direction, and find his center.

  A shrill chirp filtered through glass and shattered what little focus he had. Phone. He should ignore it and get back to his pseudo-meditation.

  What if it’s Gavin?

  It wouldn’t be. That didn’t stop him from sprinting into the house, to find the ringing device. He grabbed it as it stopped ringing. Gavin’s name sat on the screen above Missed Call.

  Aaron’s heart did a backflip that stuttered and fell flat. He forced the elation down. No celebrating until things were resolved, one way or the other. The Voicemail icon popped up next to the Missed Call image. He pulled up the message, fingers shaking with each swipe of the screen.

  As he listened to Gavin’s voice, the words, and the apology, a tentative smile flitted in. Aaron was done hesitating or wondering what next. He wasn’t willing to let Gavin walk all over him, and he refused to put up with another round of, I promise, never again, followed by once again. But the rehab was new, and Gavin’s idea. Aaron wasn’t ready to give up on the relationship, and after the night with Nathan, he couldn’t deny that he wanted Gavin in his life.

  So he called him.

  “Hey, honey. How’s home?” Gavin’s playful answer was cut with hesitation.

  A fist squeezed around Aaron’s lungs at the familiar voice and greeting. “Empty.”

  “I miss you.”

  Aaron swallow
ed past a lump in his throat. This wasn’t the kind of thing that could be done over the phone, but comfort flowed through him. “Me too. But I haven’t forgiven you.”

  “That’s fair.”

  “It is?”

  Gavin’s laugh was dry. “I deserve it. I don’t like it, but I figure this isn’t the kind of thing that goes away with a simple apology.”

  “Or even a complex one.” Even in a conversation like this, laced with tension and uncertainty, it was easy to fall into the back and forth. Aaron was grateful for that. “You said something about a visit?”

  “I did. I’m hoping you’ll come see me, and”—Gavin let out a shaky breath—“my therapist wants to meet you.”

  “Is that like meeting your folks, but without the—” Aaron snapped his jaw shut. Too tender a topic to delve into right now.

  “Without the screaming and disowning? Not nearly so bad or stressful.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Yeah?” Gavin’s smile was almost visible over the line. “Pick a morning, any day this week, and be here at eleven.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you then. And I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Aaron felt a rush of relief. Finally, something felt right. Not fixed, but better than it had been in ages.

  CYNTHIA STARED AT THE missed calls from Aaron and Gavin. If she was the friend she claimed to be, she’d call them both back and listen to what they had to say. Was she lying to herself, believing a connection existed?

  It would take her a little while to come to terms with what happened with Gavin. Since Saturday, her fury had faded to hurt and then indignation. She didn’t deserve to be treated like that.