Physis (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #4)

by Michelle Irwin

  I stood and headed away from her. The conversation was becoming overwhelming, especially with my appointment later that afternoon and the things still unspoken between us. I wasn’t sure if I could take being pulled apart twice in one day. “You talk as if everything is better.”

  “Not everything, but enough. I can finally see the light, even if it is taking just a little longer to reach you.”

  “You sure it’s not a train?” She was right behind me when I turned around to ask the question.

  “Positive, baby.” She lifted her hand and asked for silent permission to touch me the same way Beau always did. When I gave her the smallest nod, she cupped the side of my face. “Thank you for the talk. Now tell me, do you think you’re ready to talk about the other thing?”

  She dropped her hand and her palm came to rest on her stomach.

  I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to look at her. It was impossible to acknowledge the things still left unspoken between us. “I-I can’t.”

  “It’s okay, baby, I know it’s not easy. Did you want Beau to take you today?”

  I nodded at her perception. “Beau and I did talk about that, but then I thought that maybe you weren’t ready.”

  She chuckled. “I’m not entirely sure I am, but I have to let go when you need it. You’re an adult, and you deserve to be treated like one, however much that might terrify me.”

  “I—I think I’d like to go with him. But only if that won’t hurt you.”

  “I understand that you care for Beau, and if he brings you even a modicum of peace, I’m happy to step aside. I can take you again any time you need me to though, okay?”

  “I’ll give him a call, make sure he hasn’t changed his mind.”

  “Okay, sweetheart.”

  Instead of calling Beau, I sent him a text asking him to take me into the city with him. When he responded that he’d be happy to, I headed for the shower. As crappy a destination as it might have been, it kind of felt like a date.

  And rather than sending me running, the thought actually excited me.

  I SAT ON the couch with my knees bouncing in time with my nerves. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mum fussing around with her paperwork at the kitchen table. She wasn’t busy so much as keeping herself that way. If she’d desperately needed to do it, she wouldn’t have brought it out from her study in the first place.

  “Stop it, Mum,” I said after a moment. “You’re making me more nervous than I already was.”

  “Huh?” She glanced up from her pile of paperwork.

  Before I could say anything more, there was a knock at the door. Out of habit, Mum made her way to the door long before I’d gathered the courage to move. By the time she pulled it open, I’d managed to find my way to my feet.

  “Mornin’ ag’in, Lys,” Beau said before his gaze sought me out. “Are ya ready to go, darlin’? I thought we could get some lunch on the way.”

  I took a deep breath and nodded. As I inched toward the door, I wondered if he realised just how huge a deal it was for me to be putting my trust in him again. Backing away from the door, he extended his hand in invitation. I curled my fingers into a fist and took a deep breath. As I unfurled my hand, I slipped it into his. His fingers gripped mine reassuringly as he led me to his car.

  When I saw the car he was in, a sporty hatchback, I almost laughed. It was so far removed from the beast he drove in the States. No doubt catching the amusement that danced behind my eyes, he blushed. “It was all the rental company had. Y’all ain’t got no good trucks here in Australia.”

  My lips twitched. “No, we don’t have the gas guzzlers that you guys do, that’s definitely true.”

  “Maybe it’s time I look for somethin’ a li’l more permanent.” It was a statement, but there was a questioning edge to it, as though he was testing me to find out whether I would resist his desire to stay.

  “I guess that depends on how long you’re hanging around for.” I picked at my jeans with my free hand as I said the words. It was impossible to say out loud, but I hoped the answer was a long time. Even though I’d pushed him away more often than I’d asked him to stay, I understood that he was good for me. I’d felt more myself since he’d arrived than I had the entire time I’d been home. I couldn’t say why but wondered whether it was because he was the only one who had ever been able to stop a flashback in its tracks. And he’d managed it with just one word: Dawson.

  A key to happy memories that could beat back the terror, albeit temporarily.

  I tried to still the nervous tic twisting my lip while I waited for his response. When he remained silent for a beat too long, my heart fell. Did he need to leave soon? Why was he talking about a permanent car then?

  “What is it?” I asked.

  He twisted to face me, resting back against the car as he did. His free hand extended out in invitation. My heart stopped as I slipped my palm against his. When he relaxed his arms, he drew me forward, closer to him.

  “I jus’ . . . I dunno how to answer that without hurtin’ ya, darlin’.”

  He wouldn’t look me in the eye, so I ducked my head to invade his line of sight. “What do you mean?”

  One of his hands dropped the hold it had on me so he could caress the back of his neck. His brow dipped into a frown as he stared at my lips instead of my eyes. “Well, if I tell ya I wanna hang ’round as long as you'll let me, I worry that’ll overwhelm ya.”

  “Okay.” I drew the word out, trying to use it as a shield between us because his obvious vulnerability was tugging at my heartstrings and making me want to hold him tight—which in turn made my heart hammer against my chest as the need to flee built in me. Vulnerability was the lure Xavier had used to draw me in.

  “But I also worry that if I tell ya there is a deadline, that’ll cause ya to panic.”

  Deadline. The word loomed in my mind, overshadowing every other thought. “W-what deadline?”

  He sighed and linked both his hands with mine again. “See,” he murmured as he met my gaze.

  “I’m okay, I just . . . I need to know when.” How soon would my rescue ladder be snatched away? What would happen when he had to go? Would I be stuck in the pit of my nightmares again?

  “My visa’s only good for six months.”

  I flinched at the thought of him leaving so soon.

  “And I’ve only got five of ’em left.”

  Stepping backwards, I tugged my hands away from his. He released me without resistance. Five months? My fingers curled into fists and I pressed my hand against my stomach. A wave of nausea rolled through me. How could I say goodbye in five months?

  “Darlin’, are you okay?”

  I sank to the ground, clutching my stomach as I went. My lungs burned as I struggled for breath. At the rate he was cracking open my heart and climbing inside, in five months, he’d be a permanent part of me. How would I cope when he’d gone home? Would the full extent of my nightmares return?

  He knelt in front of me and rested his hands in his lap. “This is why I didn’t wanna say anythin’. I don’t wanna hurt ya, darlin’.”

  The bricks in the wall around my heart reappeared as if he’d never managed to shift them. If I closed myself off, I couldn’t hurt. I couldn’t be hurt. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and tried to calm my choppy breath.

  “Will ya please say somethin’?”

  Five months. It ran on a loop through my head. Replaying over and over. It ploughed through my heart like a freight train, leaving the remnants of the emotions that had been returning flattened in its wake.

  When he didn’t ask again, I wondered if he’d left. Had five months become five seconds because of the way I’d handled the information? Unable to find my voice, I opened one eye.

  Beau was still in front of me, but he wasn’t trying to coax me into talking to him any longer. Instead, his head was bowed and his chest heaved with heavy breaths. Curious and cautious, I pushed myself forward—close enough that I could hear the things he muttered un
der his breath. Chastisements for making me shut down. Criticisms aimed at himself, but that rolled through me like arsenic, poisoning the weeds tangled around my heart and making me want to reach out for him. To bridge the gap his news had created. I had no idea what our five months would mean in the long run but surely even that limited time was better than pushing him away then and there.

  Ever so slowly—as if reaching out to a cornered wild animal—I extended my hand and cupped his cheek. The instant my palm slid across the stubble on his jaw, his eyes shot open and he met my gaze.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, drawing closer to him. “Things just hit me harder than they used to, and it takes me a little longer to go through the process. I don’t want to miss out on any of the time I still have with you. Even if that is only for five months.” My voice broke on the last words. I stared into his eyes and held my breath as I waited for him to respond.

  The emotions I saw swirling among the galaxies in his chocolate and amber irises burned into me and for a split second, I longed to crash my lips to his. The instant the thought crossed my mind images of Xavier drawing me into him threw a blanket over my desire. Still, I owed Beau better than I’d offered him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and drew him to me until his face rested in the crook of my neck.

  “If ya want me ’round for longer, I’ll do anythin’ I can to make that happen.”

  A shiver ran down my spine as he whispered the words against my skin. The feeling was a reminder of other, more sinister, utterances. I pushed him away with an apology in my eyes. One day, I might be able to get past the things that haunted me, but it wasn’t going to be easy.

  Dragging himself away from me, he climbed to his feet. When he was standing, he extended his arm and waited for me to grab hold. Just like when he’d done the same action in front of Dr Bradshaw’s office, it was more than just a helping hand he offered. It was him. It was every part of him.

  My choice.

  I slipped my hand into his and let him guide me to my feet. Before I could steady my feet underneath me, I released his hand and stepped forward, crashing against his chest. I wrapped both arms around his head and pressed my lips to his. As soon as I’d initiated the contact, I ended it.

  Beau’s hand lifted to his mouth, his fingers pressing against the spot my lips had just grazed.

  Even though I had made the first move, I didn’t want Beau to call me out on it. More than anything, I wanted him to ignore what had happened and move on. My face must have portrayed that desire—need—because Beau just gave me one of his slow smiles and asked, “Shall we?”

  Casting a glance over my shoulder at the house, and certain I saw the curtains flutter back down when I did, I nodded. “Let’s go.”

  “We might not have time for lunch anymore.” He helped me into the car.

  “That’s okay,” I said as he opened his door. “I’m not hungry anyway.”

  The truth was, I was at my limit with everything, but I was fighting off my desire to run back inside and forget the appointment. When Beau reached across the car, offering me his hand in a now familiar routine, I gratefully accepted it.

  “You still feelin’ okay, darlin’?”

  Closing my eyes and leaning back against the seat, I nodded to let him know I was okay.

  During the start of the trip, Beau tried for conversation a few times, but it was taking everything I had not to break down over being in a guy’s car. It didn’t matter that this was a man I was certain I could trust, it was still too much.

  He let go of my hand just long enough to put on the stereo and change gears. When his fingers closed around mine again, the first bars of a song I knew so well rolled over me. Tears sprung to my closed eyes as the lyrics to “One More Day” played through my head. The meaning of that song, to him—to us both—was impossible to ignore. Our history became a palpable presence in the car.

  “Sorry, darlin’ . . . I didn’t realise that song was next.” He went to tug his hand free from my hold, but I squeezed my fingers around his to tell him it was okay. That I didn’t need him to change the song.

  I drew my legs up onto the seat, curling into a ball. With some effort, I was able to keep my breathing under control and stop myself from sobbing.

  When the chorus kicked in, Beau started to hum along with the tune. The way his sound faded in at the end of a particular line made me certain he hadn’t planned on singing along, but that the music within him had simply been unable to stay constrained within his being.

  Twisting toward him, I cracked one eye open as his voice caught hold of the melody and his humming morphed into words. The sounds he issued were quiet, carried under his breath, and yet they were enough to send me back in time to the night on the lake when he declared his intentions to not back down despite me telling him I was with Xavier.

  I opened my other eye so I could absorb every detail of the candid moment. For that precious time, the screaming in my head was silent. Everything was drowned out except Beau, my memory of us together as he sang to me on the lake, and me.

  He put on his indicator and then turned his head to the left to check the lane beside us. When he did, I must have caught his eye. The treacle-like smile spread across his lips, slowly drawing the corners higher until his dimple appeared on his cheek. Keeping our joined hands intertwined, I reached out with my other arm and stroked his dimple with the pad of my thumb.

  I met his gaze and was lost.

  Yet, somehow I found myself there too.

  We stared at each other for a moment too long, only breaking eye contact when a car nearby honked—no doubt at Beau’s potentially dangerous driving. A shaky breath left Beau, and a similar one escaped me.

  No words were spoken, but none were needed. Any that we tried to use would only be inadequate anyway. I squeezed my eyes shut again, hoping to lock the moment away as a happy one to look back on at another time.

  THE REST OF the journey was uneventful, at least until we parked and I had to convince myself to leave the vehicle. It was too easy to keep myself locked away where I didn’t have to face Dr Bradshaw—didn’t have to admit that I’d overreacted the previous week or that she’d been right when she’d said reaching out for Beau might help me.

  Beau came straight to my side of the car, opening the door when I couldn’t. “Would you like to come to my appointment with me?”

  “What?”

  “It saves you from having to wait an hour on your own.”

  I hadn’t even thought of that. I rubbed one hand along the opposite bicep as I turned to stare out of the window so that I didn’t have to meet Beau’s gaze.

  “I don’t think Dr Bradshaw will mind.”

  Could I sit with him while he poured out his heart out? The things I’d told the doctor in those four walls of her office . . .

  I was assaulted by the things I’d admitted to and the things I couldn’t.

  “And I got somethin’ I need to discuss with her that I’d like ya to hear.”

  My gaze cut to him but I couldn’t read the expression on his face. The dip of his brow contradicted the intense stare and tight grin. How was I supposed to react to his statement when I had no way to prepare for what it might mean? “What?”

  “Will ya please come with me?”

  I unclipped my seat belt and spun in the seat to leave the car.

  The tight smile on Beau’s face grew a little wider and I offered him a smile in return.

  “Curious?” he teased.

  I reached for his hand without waiting for him to offer it. Despite all of the turmoil roiling through me, it just wasn’t in my nature to constantly sit back. Parts of who I used to be were bleeding through. It was something of a relief because I’d thought all those parts were lost forever. “Maybe a little.”

  We headed up to Dr Bradshaw’s office. The receptionist’s mouth gaped open momentarily as she saw Beau and me coming together. I could only imagine the questions running through her head, considering we normally had adjace
nt appointments. As I’d come to expect, she was a consummate professional despite her initial surprise.

  She pointed to a door opposite Dr Bradshaw’s office—something I’d never really noticed with any passing interest—and advised there was a small waiting room through there if I would like to head on through while Beau had his appointment. I knew there was a lounge where Mum had spent some of her hours keeping Nikki occupied, but I’d never cared to know where it was.

  “Thank ya, Misty, but Miss Reede will be accompanyin’ me to my appointment.”

  The way Beau’s voice caressed my name, as though he was taking the same care with it as he had with me, sent a warmth spreading throughout me. My chest swelled with pride as the older woman glanced down at our joined hands.

  “Certainly, Mr Miller.”

  With a nod, she let us know we were free to enter Dr Bradshaw’s office at our convenience. I swallowed down the fear that rose in me. Even though I logically knew there wouldn’t be any severe consequences for the way I’d spoken to her—the way I’d acted before I ran from her office—the emotional part of my body was on fire. Every nerve ending cried out in anticipation of the punishment.

  Beau’s fingers squeezed lightly, giving me the reassurance I needed to move forward.

  “Good morning, Mr Mi—”

  Dr Bradshaw cut off when she glanced up from her notebook and saw me at Beau’s side.

  “Phoebe, lovely to see you again. You’re a little early.”

  “I asked her to accompany me,” Beau said before I could open my mouth or turn and run.

  She nodded as if there was some special significance in my presence. “Are you ready to discuss that, Beau?” she asked.

  I glanced between the two of them. Beau had assured me they didn’t speak about me, so why would my presence dictate what they were talking about? Had he lied to me? The bitter taste of betrayal rose in my throat. I drew my hand back from Beau’s and took a step away from him as all the links I’d allowed to form between us disconnected and fell dead at my feet. My focus was locked on Beau’s hand and his unwillingness to try to defend himself or reach for me again.