“But you must have tried? I remember when you came to me you said you hadn’t been with a woman for months.”
He rolls his eyes. “I came to an arrangement with Blane’s PA, Cherie. She’s now my PA too; when she wants to be, that is. She came along to functions I couldn’t avoid. Like a fake girlfriend. She was good at it until I tried sneaking off a few times. Then she said she could protect me against the girls but not against myself.”
I can’t help myself but smirk at the astuteness of Cherie’s remark.
“The golf was okay during that time but not great, and the nightmares were still there.”
“And then you crashed big time at the association awards evening.”
“Yup. And some. And there’s no way I’m ever going back to be that person again. But, I’m struggling.”
His eyes mist over and he looks for reassurance. All I can give him at this point is a weak smile.
“Struggling, because without the drink and parties I’m not blacking out anymore. And the nightmares trickle back and sometimes even follow me into my waking hours.”
He leans back on the chair and puts his ankle up onto his knee.
“There I’ve said it. Believe what you will because I can’t change any of that now. It is what it is and if you think badly of me, then that’s absolutely your prerogative.”
I let it mull over in my mind, twisting my glass back and forth by the base while I process the words he used, his body language and the sorrow in his eyes.
“Johnson I don’t think badly of you. Not at all and neither should you. Learn to love yourself.”
He blows out a breath, which sounds as if it has been pent up for a long time.
“I thought that had been my problem all along. Loving myself?”
“If you loved yourself, you wouldn’t have pushed the self-destruct button at the rejection you faced.”
“And you Meredith, are you going to be my latest rejection?”
“Hopefully not, but give me time Johnson. One step at a time remember?”
“It’s the only way.”
“Johnson, Your fiancé didn’t leave you because she didn’t love you, more likely because you shut her out and she considered her love wasn’t being returned. You can learn from that, but not beat yourself up over it. She went on to have a loving relationship and so can you.”
His eyes light up at that, and I hope I haven’t overstepped the mark. Because as much as I like Johnson I’m not convinced yet that we can have a happily ever after.
“And with your father that’s a little more complex because you were a child when he lost the trust of your family and left you all. But again, that was not your fault and I’m sure it’s not that he stopped loving you. It’s a lifestyle choice he probably regrets and his own foolishness has stopped him from ever making it up with you guys.”
“Yeah, I often wondered if he was too embarrassed to come back and apologize.”
I nod.
“And from what you’ve said it seems as if you have reached out to him, so there’s not a lot more you can do. You’re obviously a strong person, and to succeed in a sport the way you do takes a tremendous amount of tenacity and stamina. But you have to allow time to yourself and your wellbeing. Learn to love yourself. I’ve seen a good deal about you Johnson that I like and that’s why I took a risk, but promise me to love yourself first.”
“He nods. Yeah and try to not lose myself in the process.”
“You won’t.” I look at my watch. “I appreciate I’m not your doctor any longer, but I can help you work through this stuff if you like? Or I can recommend someone who can.”
“I’m not sure Meredith. I hope I can forget about it and move on. With you.”
I suck in a breath, worried that he is fixating on our relationship as the savior of his worries.
“I still believe you need to work through how you feel about your father and Kirsty leaving you. Have closure on that, then you can move on properly.”
He nods.
“It won’t be too horrible, I promise.”
He laughs. “It can’t be any worse than the nightmares I’ve been having. So, what about us?”
I smile. “One step at a time, Johnson.”
He nods, then slaps his hands on his thighs taking the tempo of the conversation up a notch.
“How about a date tomorrow night? Pizza Hut.”
“Wow, you’d go to Pizza Hut with me?”
“I’ll do whatever it takes, Meredith.”
I want to agree, because I don’t want this to end, but I have to contemplate this carefully before tomorrow night. There’s no way I can continue to lead him on if I have any continuing doubts.
“Okay.”
He leans across the table and gives me a kiss.
As he drives me back to my car, he updates me on the tournament and it warms me to hear him speak passionately about it. And if I’m honest, I can quite see how it would be too much for a young woman. I, on the other hand, have my career, one I would expect a boyfriend to respect equally. His golfing obsession wouldn’t affect me in the same way. I’m sure.
His confessions are honestly spoken, I should know I’ve listened to enough over the years and my bullshit detector was on full alert and it didn’t go off once.
There’s only one niggling doubt, and that is whether he will lapse when times get tough. And whether I need to be part of that. It’s early enough in our relationship for me to duck out, leave him to it.
But I accept even while the thought is turning over in my head. I can’t walk away. He excites me, makes me feel alive. I remember our dates and the night we spent together. The passion and the liberation I felt.
I look across at him and can’t deny that he is attractive. I force myself to look away so I can stay true to my resolve to sleep on what he has told me, make sure I am doing the right thing in continuing to see him. Both for him and for me.
When we reach my car, he turns off the engine and the interior lights come on.
“Tomorrow night?”
“Yes, tomorrow night Johnson.”
He leans over and takes my cheek in his palm caressing my cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. I close my eyes and lean onto his warm hand before turning my mouth to it and kissing his palm.
His face leans in to mine and I let him softly place a kiss on my lips, the scruff on his chin, rubbing against mine like a thousand tiny needles stimulating my senses. The kiss goes on well until after the courtesy lights dim.
“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he says as I open the door and climb out
“Okay Johnson. Just text me first.” I lean back into the car to retrieve my purse.
He waits until I am in my car, reversing back so I can swing out of the parking spot and he follows me from the car park; me turning left and him right.
I find a parking spot on my street, but it’s kind of eerie when I get out and I cross my arms across my chest and walk at a pace up to my apartment. It must be my latent desire to have Johnson with me that’s making me appear vulnerable and alone.
Chapter Twenty Three
Johnson
It’s frustrating to drive home alone, but it’s been a long day and I’m beat. At least it’s ended better than I thought it would two hours ago.
Fuck that, it’s not ended well at all.
Sure, it could have been worse, but I fight for what I want and I had more to give tonight. A win would have been me tucked up in bed with her right now instead of this stupid ass drive home.
I flick through my playlist, stopping at, “You Should Be Here” by Cole Swindell. I wonder as I drum along to the beat on the steering wheel, who I’m missing right now. My dad, Kirsty or Meredith?
It takes longer than usual to reach home; the music slowing me down as I enjoy the full album.
As I pull into my driveway, I wonder if I will ever bring Meredith here. This pristine house of mine whose walls have never had a woman’s moans ricocheting off them. Although th
e state of my mind right now, I don’t believe my dick could cope with the added pressure.
If I ever was confident enough to bring her here, I must stock up the wine rack, I decide as I switch on the light in the kitchen and pour myself a bourbon. She may like Pizza Hut but she’s refined with wine.
I rest against the kitchen counter and take my first punishing sip of the drink. Then shoot her a text with a link to the playlist I’ve just listened to.
She texts back straight away, telling me she will fall asleep listening to it tonight.
That warms my heart.
✽✽✽
With no real plans for today, I go to the gym at the country club and have lunch there, before driving back to New York to meet Meredith.
AJ joins me at the gym and fills me in on his latest exploits with his girlfriend and his attempts to placate her. Then, when he moves on to the latest gossip amongst the caddies, I remind him I will crush his balls in a vice if he divulges anything about my personal life to them. I’m sure he must throw tidbits out there, otherwise how would he get to find out anything without a little in return.
The answer to that is as my mom would say, ‘do nothing in private you wouldn’t want somebody to recount back to you in public’. Another piece of advice I’ve conveniently not listened to.
We pump weights and despite AJ’s small frame I struggle to equal his poundage. But I don’t give up and I refuse to lose out to him; grunting my way up to match and then exceed his max.
We sweat out the stiffness in the sauna before going for lunch. And while AJ has a beer with his I stick to water. I’m getting used to this San Pellegrino.
I check my phone again and there’s no update from Meredith and against my natural instincts I tap out a text.
Me: You still okay for tonight?
As the cursor blips in front of me, I decide the question makes me sound needy, so I hold my thumb on the delete button until all the characters have disappeared. I’ll turn up at seven as planned and she will be there.
On my way to New York I play the Cole Swindell songs again and wonder if this relationship goes anywhere whether I should rent somewhere closer, perhaps even in the city. I’m sure Cherie could swing it as a tax write-off. Meredith likes her own space and I wouldn’t want to suggest anything that might scare her away, especially as I’ve promised to take this slow.
After parking up, I walk over to her apartment block, bound up the stairs and lean onto the buzzer. I press it several times but there’s no answer. Each time the sinking feeling in my stomach becomes heavier. So, I check my watch and then call her number but it rings out. On the second call it goes straight to voicemail.
Leaning against the railings that run alongside the stairs, I look up and down the street for any sign of her.
Then I get a text.
Meredith: Go away.
Go away? What the fuck has happened?
Slowly, I take a few steps down while I stare at the screen. I knew there was a risk she would change her mind but to be that rude? Go away?
I text her back.
Me: Why? Talk to me.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I turn around and look up at the building. Her apartment is at the back, so, I look for a way around to the backyard but there’s no communal walkway I can see.
As I’m figuring out my next move I notice her cat walking around my feet in a figure of eight. “She’s kicked you out too has she Tabby?” It purrs as it rubs its neck against my leg.
After a few minutes, I go back to my car, and text one final time.
Me: I’m in the car. I’ll wait five more minutes. Then I’m gone.
I sit patiently for a while on the off chance she’ll get in touch; but there’s nothing more from her. I contemplate going to Blane’s while I wait for Meredith to respond. But Yasmin is due to have her baby any day now and that wouldn’t be fair.
So, I take the long highway home.
Chapter Twenty Four
Meredith
My pace slows as I reach the bottom of the stairs outside my apartment building. A smile slips across my lips when I spot a bunch of flowers sat at the top, leaning against the door. They might be for another occupant but I’m guessing they’re not because they look very similar to the bouquet Johnson brought to the office yesterday.
He’s trying, I’ll give him that.
The smile on my face widens when I bend over and read my name written on the front of the miniature envelope. The fluttering in my stomach confirms what I’ve been mulling over all day; I’m looking forward to tonight and whatever he’s got planned after Pizza Hut. Or before.
The sound of purring halts my salacious thoughts and I turn to see Tabby bounding up the stairs.
“What are you doing out here?” I squat down to tickle the spot of white fur under her chin and then bring her up into my arms for a cuddle. I don’t remember letting her out this morning, in fact I’m positive I didn’t as I never let her out when I go to work.
I set her down again, wondering if I left a window open in my apartment, and whether the rain from earlier today has soaked anything. I unlock the door and then pop the keys back into my pocket so I can pick up flowers that are about to flop over onto the doormat. Then I step inside, with Tabby following at my feet. The hall lights don’t usually activate straight away and as they flicker on, a searing hot pain cracks across the back of my head.
My knees give way and I fall to the floor, my crown bouncing off the skirting board and my face lost in the heavy scent of roses and lilies. I hear Tabby meowing as she flees back outside the still open door and then the mailbox cover clangs when someone kicks the door shut.
All I can see through my faltering vision is the ceiling in the hallway as I’m dragged along by my hands before I black out.
✽✽✽
When I prise open my eyes, the pain stabs through my head like cold steel, forcing me to squeeze them shut again and breathe through the pain. I wrap my arms around my head, muffling my ears and making my groans sound detached.
A cold hand squeezes my shoulder and then strokes up the back of my neck onto my head, causing goosebumps to creep across my flesh in its wake.
Then the voice fills my head. Barely a whisper, but it’s as painful as fingernails across a blackboard.
“Meredith,” he dares say my name. “You’re safe now.”
I’m fully aware, I’m anything but safe. I recoil from the foul stench of his breath and wish he’d go away. I never came close to him in the consulting room to notice he smelt this way and it’s too late now.
In vain, I try to lift my shoulder but my head seems like it needs support. I run my hand to the back of my head to feel for blood. It’s not wet but there is a large lump at its base.
“Don’t worry about your head Meredith. I’ve checked, and it’s fine.”
Using all the energy I can muster, I push up on my elbow and shrug off his touch. His knees crack as he stands and then his footsteps stutter away on the wooden floor.
I force open my eyes, blinking through the pain and focus on his shadowy figure hunched over a table in front of a curtained off window ten yards away.
My heart sinks further when I notice this is not my apartment. The last place I remember.
“Dale,” I croak, the break in my voice masking my word. “Dale,” I hiss. This time the hatred I have toward this man for assaulting me is clear.
He ignores me and paces the floor. I can hear him mumbling to himself repeatedly.
I jostle up further, resting my weight onto my hand.
“Dale!” This time my voice has more authority to it, but the vibration pulses painfully, through my head.
He stops and looks my way, erratically scratching his fingers through his hair.
“Dale, you need to take me home. Right now.” I command, hoping the control in my instruction breaks through his troubled mind.
Dale Simmons has attended counselling sessions with me for several weeks and he has
severe anxiety issues. He cared for his mother for as long as he could remember until eventually she died last year. They found her in their shared apartment a month after her death. He hadn’t wanted to give her up and naturally suffered from trauma, although there were deep-seated personality issues surfacing well before then. His mother died of natural causes, and although it was a misdemeanor not to report a death, the authorities appreciated the stress he had been through and let him off with an order to seek professional guidance.
When his case finally came across my desk, the issues were well rooted and I expected to deal with his behaviors over several months. The insurance company had signed off his treatment, and he seemed to be progressing well. Or so I thought.
I reflect on the conversation I had with Hector about patients developing feelings for their psychologists and realize that’s what has happened with Dale.
“Dale, are you listening? You need to take me home. Right now.” I’m hoping my tactics of standing up to him work. He did as his mother told him for all of those years.
He’s shaking his head, vehemently.
“No, Meredith, I can’t. You’ve not had dinner yet. I picked up your favorite pizza.”
I push up onto my knees, hoping my legs will support my weight when I try to stand.
“How do you know which is my favorite pizza?”
He doesn’t answer and my mind works over-time. Is he bullshitting or does he know?
I spot the Pizza Hut boxes on the counter, and the realization washes over me with chilling clarity - he has watched Johnson bring me carry-out.
This isn’t a snap, and he hasn’t done this on a stupid whim. He’s stalked me for a while now and planned this moment.
With the anxiety building I lose the motivation to stand, so I resort to sitting back on my heels and press my hands onto my knees.
“Meredith, I had to do this. I need to protect you from that man. He’s no good for you, but I can keep you safe.”
I shake my head, my hair falling in front of my face. “No, Dale, you can’t protect me. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.” My voice falters with the hopelessness.
Tee It Up: A Wilder Brothers Romance Page 15