by J. C. Reed
“Those are good thoughts, Kade.” She nods enthusiastically, obviously pleased with my answer. “Exercise goes hand in hand with an increase in mental wellbeing. Our discharge coordinator will give you a list of local health institutions that could cater to your individual needs. The first step is to get a treatment plan and follow it through. An unhealthy environment can easily lead to a relapse. It might be necessary to cut ties with old friends.”
“I understand.” I draw a dramatic breath. “I don’t want to relapse. If cutting old ties is the only way for me to succeed in my endeavors, then so be it.”
“You have to think of yourself and yourself only. It’s going to be a long process, but you can do it, Kade.” She glances at her closed notebook, her hands running down the rim. Her hesitation is evident on her face. “I could help you with the transition and check in with you…for moral support, of course.”
She doesn’t need to say more because it’s pretty obvious why she’d want to continue seeing me. Once I’m out of this place and she’s no longer my appointed counselor, there’s no reason why she couldn’t pursue more than just talking.
My lips curl into a soft smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
A knock at the door echoes through the room.
“I’m sorry.” She smiles apologetically, then calls out, “Yes?”
The door opens.
“Your next appointment is here.”
“Great.” She smiles at me and rises to her feet. “Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Wright. When can I expect you tomorrow?”
“Same as always.” I shake her hand, making sure to prolong the action for a second too long. “Two p.m.”
“Oh, right.” She laughs nervously, and I make sure to shoot her one of my lingering smiles.
Women dig the lingering look, the lingering touch. I do it out of habit, not because I enjoy it. She’s nothing like Vicky. No one is. Vicky’s actually the first woman who seems to be avoiding me now after we’ve had sex. The thought bothers me just as much as the realization that she’s also the first woman I want to keep in my life.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Vicky
AN OPEN LETTER TO JANE AUSTEN
* * *
Dear Jane,
* * *
I still feel a lot of anger in my sessions, but my new bestie says it’s a good thing. I’m not angry with Bruce’s mom, or his ex. I’m angry with myself for wasting eight months of my life on someone who wasn’t worth it. I feel anger that I was blind. Anger for being weak, for getting invested in something that was never real.
* * *
Him getting married was the push I needed to step back and contemplate my life, see things for how they really are. When I read that letter, I was scared of the big pain that I thought would hit me, for it to crush me, that I would become more obsessive. But none of it happened.
I just stopped caring. That’s all. The only things I now care about are my family, my new friend, Sylvie, and Kade.
That’s right. Kade.
This is the first time I’m mentioning him. Until now, I barely allowed myself to think about him.
Jane, I must confess something:
I like Kade. A lot. Like really, really a lot. And not just as a friend. I love his body, the way he smiles at me, as though I’m the one thing that brightens his day. I love the way his hands roam over my body, aching to touch every inch of me. It would be all too easy to fall in love with him. I’ll need to guard my heart to stop preventing falling for him because I won’t make the same mistake twice.
This morning, I found myself staring in the mirror. While I looked the same as always, there was something there—a change that hadn’t been there before. I had thought I found love with Bruce, but now I don’t think that’s true at all. My obsession with Bruce drove me to the brink of insanity. With every bit of rejection, I became even more obsessed. The drama made me fixated. Every plea that escaped his lips turned into more damage to my being. At some point, it sent me on a trail of destruction where I began to hope and seek for the wrong things. All the turmoil and the feeling of desperation, that’s not love. I recognize that now.
Sylvie recommended that I step back and try to focus on myself for a change rather than on a man. She’s right, of course. I know that if I don’t follow her advice, I’ll end up falling into an even darker pit where confusion, obsession, and self-doubt continue to plague me. I refuse to be stuck in the hell my mind’s all too ready to concoct for me.
I have to think about the future and protect myself. Not only to prevent myself from having my heart broken again, but also so I won’t fall again for the wrong person. In here, for the time being, I feel safe. But as soon as I think of tomorrow, I worry about the future. I worry that I’ll fall back into old patterns and get back to that one place where obsession is a big part of my dysfunction. I don’t want to go back to my delusions.
Don’t be mad that I’m no longer writing regularly but never has a future been so full of unknown roads. I’m not even sure I know who I am anymore.
Am I the one chasing love or is love chasing me?
Did I ever feel love at all?
* * *
Yours affectionately,
Vicky Sullivan
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kaiden
It’s been almost a week since that night on the beach, and I still can’t stop thinking about her little body shaking as my tongue slipped in and out of her. Was it five orgasms she had? Six? Maybe even seven? At some point, I think I was too wrapped up in her to continue counting.
I’m getting hard thinking about her naked ass, the swell of her breasts, the generous curves of her body, the flawless skin beneath my fingers, the way her hair bounced as she moved up and down on my cock, drawing pleasure from my body, taking all she could.
The memories are enough to make me go insane. No amount of treatment is going to erase the pictures replaying on a loop in my mind. The night I spent with her is still fresh in my mind, and yet it seems as though countless years have passed. It’s not helping that she keeps avoiding me. I’m all too aware of the little detours she takes to stay out of my path, and that’s getting me worked up even more.
I’ve decided to wait a few more days to see what happens. With a bit of luck, she’ll start missing me. Or my cock. I’d take either one at this point.
If she’s not seeking me out soon, I’ll start working on a plan to get her back into my bed.
Rivulets of cold sweat are trickling into my eyes as I lift the bar a final time, holding it above my head, then begin to count.
Ten….nine…eight…
My back is drenched with sweat as I push myself to my limits, ignoring the burn settling in my arms, my chest. At last, I take a deep breath and with a groan I return the bar to the rack.
I wipe my forehead with a towel and take a swig from my bottle of water. Exercise is my way to relax. It always helps me wind down and forget whatever’s bothering me. It’s not doing its intended job today. Vicky’s still clinging to the edges of my mind. Today, I haven’t been able to shake off her memory, no matter how hard I tried.
As I gather my belongings, my mind keeps going back to our last conversation. There’s something about it that doesn’t sit right with me. Vicky enjoyed what we did—but it wasn’t guilt free on her part. I had a feeling Bruce was the reason she kept a certain emotional distance from me. Instead of just understanding that what we did wasn’t cheating, I should have made sure she shared my opinion on the matter.
Closing the door of the fitness room behind me, I sling my bag over my shoulder and turn to head for the elevator. That’s when I notice her leaving the library. Her red hair shimmers in the light, the curls inviting me to push my fingers through them and pulling her mouth to mine.
She doesn’t notice me standing, staring. Her attention is focused on something far away, her face drawn in concentration.
I know where she’s headed.
This is my opportuni
ty to finally get her to face me.
Knowing that she won’t notice me until it’s too late to avoid me, I reach her in a few, long strides.
I brace myself for contact as I let my body slam into her, not hard enough to hurt her but with enough force to startle her.
The books she’s been carrying drop to the floor.
“Kade?” Her shock lasts for all of a second, before it’s replaced by disbelief and...is that fear? Annoyance? I can’t place her expression.
I squat to help her pick up the books. “Avoiding me much?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Definitely annoyance, and plenty of that.
I squeeze her hand, which immediately draws her attention to me. “Why are you avoiding me, Vicky?”
Biting her lip, she looks up and our gazes meet.
I don’t like what I’m seeing in her eyes even before she’s spoken the words. “Fucking you was a mistake, and you know it.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake!
“Was it?”
“Yes.” Her voice is forceful, challenging, as though she wants me to prove her wrong. “I shouldn’t have brought you into this situation.”
“Sorry, I’m not following. What situation?”
She peers around her to make sure no one’s tuning in before she says, “I demanded that you fuck me.”
I can barely hide my amusement. “You hardly forced me, sweetheart. It sure didn’t feel like you were assaulting me, more like—”
She rolls her eyes, and for a moment there’s a glint of amusement in her gaze. “God, Kade. Stop it with the jokes. This is serious. I’m trying to have a meaningful conversation with you and you’re not taking it seriously.” Her eyes sweep around us once more. Even though there’s no one around, she’s paranoid that someone might be watching. I want to point out to her that after five the halls are always empty because most patients are attending music therapy, but my reassurances will most certainly not be heard.
Vicky’s voice drops to a whisper. “You’re a sex addict. It was wrong of me to ask you. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I can’t say I regret it. To be honest, I felt good afterwards. Better than I have felt in a long time. And from the looks of it, you enjoyed our little session, too.” I wink at her playfully. She frowns. A soft blush spreads across her cheeks, which makes her look even more endearing.
“For the sake of all that’s sacred, can you please keep your voice down?” Her voice is so low I have to lean forward to make out what she’s saying. “It doesn’t matter whether we liked it. We can’t let it happen again.”
Meaning, she’s enjoyed every minute of it and is now trying hard to come up with reasons why she shouldn’t be joining me between the sheets again.
Tilting my head, I cross my arms over my chest as I regard her with amusement. “Why not?”
“Just because.” She glances away, avoiding my prodding gaze. But her voice is strained, betraying her emotions. She’s torn about us. “I want you to get over your addiction, not for me to make it worse or for you to relapse. I don’t want to be the reason for you failing rehab. So, I’m going to take responsibility for what happened between us. I’m going to ask to be roomed with someone else.”
My jaw sets and anger pulses through me.
As if avoiding me wasn’t bad enough; now she wants to put even more physical distance between us.
I haphazardly arrange her books on a tray and grab her hand. She doesn’t protest as I lead her back inside the library, to the farthest part where I’m sure no one will see us.
“Kade, I—”
Pressing my body into her, I push her back against the bookcase. My face is lowered to hers, our breath intermingling. She smells so good I want to suck her lower lip between mine until she moans my name.
I want to touch her, but it wouldn’t be right. Not before we’ve talked. Settled things. Got her worries and paranoia out of the way once and for all.
“You want to be roomed with someone else?” My voice comes out sharp, threatening.
“Why are you offended?”
“I’m not offended. I just don’t think it’s necessary. That’s all.” Her proximity is all I can focus on. I didn’t anticipate that being so close to her would be so hard…or so heady.
“I can’t keep living with you, Kade.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want you to hate me.” Her eyes are half-closed, her breathing slightly labored. She’s finding this as hard as I do.
“I could never hate you. No one could.”
“You will. Trust me.” She lets out an exasperated breath. “I know me. I’m a walking disaster, and I’ll bring you down with me. I’m sorry, but we can’t do this anymore. I can’t continue things with you. Not with my issues. Not when your own issues are as grave as they are.”
“They’re not as bad as you make them out to be. I think we’re actually making progress.”
“Progress?” She lets out a scoff and squints at me incredulously. “Tell me one good thing that’s come out of this.”
“Well, for starters, you haven’t mentioned Bruce in a while. You used to mention him in every sentence.”
“Really?”
She holds out her hand as if she doesn’t want to hear more. Exhaling a sharp breath, she glares at me, but what I see in her eyes isn’t anger. It’s fear.
Her tongue flicks across her lips and her eyes shimmer with what I’m pretty sure are tears.
I frown.
Fuck.
Did I say something wrong?
“What’s going on, Vicky?” I ask softly.
“I thought I could do this, but I can’t.” She shakes her head. Waves of tension waft from her. “I feel like I’m trapped in a corridor, walking from door to door, with no hope of ever getting out. I seem to make one mistake after another. I thought by hooking up with you my problems would be solved, but I’ve realized everything’s getting worse. It’s only a matter of time until I fall. And when I do, I don’t want to bring you down with me. Don’t take it personally, Kade, but everything I’m doing I’m doing for us.”
“Why do you think you know what’s good for us? Maybe I don’t want to stop now.”
She hesitates and her expression darkens. “We have to. There’s no other choice.”
“That’s not what you want, Vicky. Take a good look at yourself. Your body’s speaking volumes.”
She laughs. “Seriously?”
“You don’t want to stop.” I brush her neck gently, trailing my fingers down her shoulder. She tenses under my touch, but she doesn’t pull away.
“Fine. What do you want to hear? That I want you?” Her tone is flat. She really feels lost. She doesn’t know what to do with the attraction between us.
“I want you to say that you want to fuck me again.”
“I can’t say that.”
“Why not? And don’t claim that’s not what you want.”
There’s a short silence. “I’m not going to lie,” she says slowly. “But that’s the thing. I always seem to want things that destroy me. That are bad for me. It’s my illness, and I’m not going to let my addiction destroy our lives. We have to be realistic. Face the facts. This little hook up of ours is going nowhere.”
I inch toward her, my hand going to the back of her neck, caressing it, forcing her to meet my gaze. I lean into her until our lips almost touch, but not quite. Her breath is hot, sweet, and inviting. I want it to mingle with mine. I want our breaths to be one. “To get over one addiction you have to become addicted to something else.”
“To what, for example?”
“To me,” I breathe against her mouth. “Become addicted to me.”
Her expression darkens and her lips part, quivering, inviting my tongue into her mouth. “That’s the thing. I already am addicted to you, Kade.”
My heart skips a beat, then another. When I say nothing, she continues, “I’m addicted to the way I feel when you touch me. I’m addict
ed to the way you came inside me. You’re in my thoughts, in my dreams. Fuck. You’re everywhere, Kade. It’s like I can’t escape you because you’re my drug. I’ve tried to stop it, but I can’t. That’s why we can’t keep meeting. You’re leaving me no choice but to tell them the truth.”
I stare at her, expecting repulsion to hit me low the way it always does when women proclaim their feelings for me.
But all I feel is a wave of shock—shock at the fact that I actually want her to feel all those things for me.
I cannot stop this—not now, not yet.
Not seeing her for days was unbearable, but at least there was always the certainty that I could change her mind again. Exposing us is another thing. It could mean the end of us.
I shake my head. “You won’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not ready to let you go.”
She frowns. “Didn’t you understand what I just said? I’m damaged.”
“So what? We’re all damaged. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. We’re all trying to learn from mistakes we seem to repeat over and over again. Life is the process of learning things we cannot understand and the acceptance of things we cannot change. That’s life. Accept it and move on.”
Fuck. When did I start sounding like my therapist?
Her eyes widen, shimmering with sudden understanding. She’s listening to me, really listening, clinging to my words as if they’re a lifeboat that could save her.
I suddenly realize I want to be the one who saves this beautiful woman who is capable of saving others but not herself.
“Just because you might get all obsessive on me, doesn’t mean I want to stop seeing you,” I add, in case I didn’t make that part clear enough.
She cocks her head, regarding me through those beautiful eyes of hers. “But…I thought you said you hated closeness.”
“I do. But it’s not like you want to enter a lifelong commitment with me, right?”