I Need You Too: Stand Alone Novel, Contemporary-Erotic-Suspenseful Romance, Psychological Thriller

by Cynthia P. O'Neill

  She placed her hand atop mine and gave it a squeeze. “It’s nothing bad, handsome. I just needed to tell you about a phone call I had earlier today.”

  I listened intently as I took a sip of my coffee, still staring at her with weary eyes. “Okay?”

  Marjorie was nervous, taking in a deep breath before letting her words rush out, almost too fast for me to hear. “I know we’re both having issues with sleeping. Your nightmares are starting to wake up the entire building and mine are to the point I’m incapable of resting. I’ve made an appointment to talk with Carol today after work. She noted that Kent, or as she called him, Kenny, had a spot available if you’d like to talk with him. I’m not trying to push, but I’m worried about my friend.”

  It was all I could do to hold in the rage I felt toward Marjorie jumping to conclusions. I felt betrayed, but I reeled in my feelings and recognized this is exactly why I needed to talk to someone. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe Kent could help me. I knew they only had my best interest at heart.

  I closed my eyes and gripped the table hard, trying to count to ten in my mind and focus on breathing through everything before I responded to her. I could feel myself calming, as her apologetic words hit my ears. “Please don’t hate me, Ethan. You’re one of the few friends I have that I can trust with some of my past.” I scrutinized her only to see tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to break through at any moment. “We both need help.”

  Her plea called to me. I reached out and grabbed hold of her hand, giving it a little squeeze, and finally feeling calm. “I’m not happy about you going behind my back and trying to make an appointment for me, but I’ll go and talk to Kent if it means that much to you.” I gave her a wink, “Just don’t let everyone else know that I’m going. I don’t want to raise anyone’s hopes of finding a miracle cure for my issues.”

  She smiled in relief. “I don’t want anyone other than you and Uncle Alexander knowing that I’m seeing Carol right now anyway. We’ll keep it just between you and me.”

  The rest of the day went by without incident. The oversized coffee did the trick keeping me buzzed and awake for the rest of the afternoon. Everything was on track for the IT department and I left the office feeling a sense of accomplishment.

  I inattentively watched where Marjorie was driving, since I had no clue where Carol and Kent Bradford’s office was located. Imagine my shock when she pulled up in a shared parking lot with their club, The Shanty. Who puts their office right next to a BDSM club?

  I tensed seeing the signage. Marjorie’s hand found my leg and gave it a squeeze. “You know they are part owners in the club with the Prescott family and with Jackson’s parents. This shouldn’t be that big of a shock to you.”

  I kept recalling the old Austin Power’s line “Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day” to try and ward off the intense feelings her touch was bringing to me. I needed to keep my other head from thinking at all.

  I entwined my fingers with hers and lifted the back of her hand to my lips to place a gentle kiss on it. It was a calculated move on my part to try and show her the intensity of her actions. I knew we were both skirting our feelings for one another and had no business taking it further than friendship, but she was crossing the lines and I wouldn’t be held responsible for my actions if she kept it up. “I know they’re psychiatrists and are involved with the club, but why put their office right next to it?”

  Her face seemed a bit perplexed. “No one’s ever told you?”

  “Told me what?” I felt a bit confused now.

  “Carol and Kenny deal with regular psychological issues, but they deal a lot with sexually related problems ranging from intimacy issues to abuse.” Her explanation made sense and it looked like she wanted to continue on but stopped short.

  She looked down at her watch and started to reach for the door. “We should go. They’re waiting for us.”

  I’d met Carol and Kent at various functions the Prescott family had invited me to, so it was no surprise to get a sturdy handshake from Kent and a hug from Carol. Marjorie leaned against me and whispered, “Just give Kenny a chance and see what happens. Worse-case scenario is you don’t come back, but I anticipate there’s something he can do to help.” She gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek before heading off with Carol.

  I looked away from Kent and leaned back against the wall, not wanting to acknowledge the reason why I was here. He cleared his throat, “Why don’t we take a seat in my office and get to know one another a bit better?”

  I followed him in and took a seat on the sofa, while he took a seat next to me in a chair. He started to open his mouth to talk, and I instantly felt my defense mode kick in. I put my hand up to interrupt him. “Before you go any further Kent, you should know that I don’t think there’s anything you or anyone else can do to help me. I’m tired of trying to tell everyone my problems, them writing me a script for medication or calling my doctor to write one, while they tell me I need to get in touch with my ‘inner self’. No offense, but I don’t need this bullshit! I’ve already tried talking with two psychiatrists to no avail.”

  I was expecting Kent to get mad, maybe even kick me out of the office, but he tossed the clipboard he had in his hand onto the floor, making me jump a bit. He sat back in his chair, with one leg crossed above the other. “You think you have me figured out already. Well, I want to hear what you think makes me tick and then I’ll give you a description of how I see you. If you don’t like what I have to say at the end of our session today, you can get up, walk out of the office and never return again. This visit will be on the house. However, if I get your description right…” his eyes stared straight into mine “…you’ll do things my way and accept that my methods, while they may be unorthodox, might be exactly what you need to heal.”

  I had to laugh and smile a bit at the size of the brass balls on this man. I hadn’t been talked to like that in a long time. In fact, only my father had enough nerve to ever speak to me that way. I felt secure in the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to help me, so I had no issues with taking his dare. “Fine,” I stated rather boldly. “You’re on!”

  He waved his hand toward me, “By all means, tell me what you think you know about me. I’m all ears.” The sarcasm rolling off him was enough to drown most people, but not me. I loved when the gauntlet was thrown down.

  “I know that you come from a well-to-do family. You didn’t grow up wealthy, but you were more comfortable than most. Your father was a lawyer and your mother a historian at the local history center. You had a brother in the military that was in an accident and passed away. You were following in your father’s footsteps and had been enrolled in pre-law at the University of Florida, but suddenly changed to psychiatry after two years. You met your wife at UF and ended up getting married before you were both done with your degrees.”

  I watched as Kent nodded. “I’m impressed. It shows your skills at being able to investigate personal files are spot on. But you still have yet to tell me your thoughts of me and my profession.”

  Okay, I was 1-0 on the information side. If I wanted to get out of this potential torture, without divulging my feelings, I needed to bring it in and score big time. “I know I don’t need another doctor trying to tell me I need to get in touch with my inner self. I’m tired of dishing out my thoughts and feelings without anyone even listening to me. Instead, I’m given another appointment and a prescription for pills to help me sleep and get rid of some of my anxiety and aggression.”

  I looked up into Kent’s eyes and stared him straight in the face as I raised my voice. “I won’t waste my time with another doctor who’s looking to make money, doesn’t give a damn about their patients, and wants to send me on my way with more drugs. I can’t live like that. I won’t live like that!”

  He leaned forward in his chair, challenging me with his stare, yelling back at me. “You are a pompous ass. Do you know that? You think you have me figured out. I didn’t get into this profession to get rich or
to make money.”

  I SAT BACK ON the couch, wondering what I’d missed in my research. Granted, I didn’t have time to do a thorough job, since Marjorie had sprung this appointment on me last minute. I crossed my arms, feeling a bit lost. “By all means, enlighten me.” I raised my eyebrows toward him to show him he had my full attention.

  “I couldn’t give a damn about the money. If that were the case, I’d have continued on with law school and followed in my father’s footsteps, taking over his practice.” His hands came together to form a steeple over his legs. “I became a psychiatrist so I could make a difference in other people’s lives, to show them they didn’t need to rely on medication or be told they had issues that couldn’t be resolved. I don’t always follow the rules on how to treat people, but damn it…” he slammed his fist down onto his leg, “I get results!”

  His voice grew louder as his words held me captive. “I lost a damn fine brother thanks to the government not acknowledging what he did during his tours of duty. He chose to serve his country and get his college education through them. After he was discharged, he had horrid nightmares, and his behavior had changed; he wasn’t the brother I’d grown up with. We’d tried to get him psychological counseling but were denied assistance. They said he’d not seen the acts of war that would warrant the need for mental assistance. It wasn’t until he died, when his car was blown up, that we learned some of the details of his service life; he’d led some covert operations to things no one should have to witness or live through!”

  We both sat back and were breathing rather hard from our heated talk. I finally said, “I’m sorry, I was wrong about you. I admit that. But I still don’t think you can help me. No one has been able to figure out what’s wrong, not even me.”

  He leaned forward, giving me a pat on the knee. “That’s where you’re wrong, son. I may not have been your doctor, but I’ve been observing you for a while now.”

  I looked at him stunned by his admission.

  “Don’t go getting yourself in a shit fit. It’s second nature for me to take in everyone’s body language and actions. I guess you could say it is the downside to my profession, but it comes in handy to avoid trouble at the club.”

  I nodded. “Okay, so what do you think is wrong with me, Mr. All Knowing?”

  “I’m guessing your previous doctors have told you that you suffer from survivor’s guilt. It’s obvious you feel you should’ve died in the accident along with Gabi. You’re left wondering why you’re still alive, why your life was spared when hers wasn’t. You know the reasoning behind everything, with her medical issues and you being slipped a strong dose of the date rape drug, but you’re still having trouble coming to terms. You feel that you’re somehow still at fault.”

  I was floored. He had been paying attention to me and I hadn’t even noticed. I never let anyone this close with the exception of Nate and Marjorie. I started to protest, when he held his hand up for me to stop.

  “I have more. You’re suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, too.” I shook my head in denial, but he continued talking. “You want to argue that it’s reserved only for the people in the military, but it can apply to those with very traumatic experiences in their life. I can tell by the bags underneath your eyes and the edginess about you that you’re not sleeping well, most likely from nightmares where you’re reliving the events that led up to the crash. You’re relying on caffeine and exercise to help you keep up with day to day activities…”

  He grabbed hold of my shaking hands as I leaned forward to listen to him. “It’s okay, Ethan, this is what therapy is for, to get it all out on the table.” He took in a deep breath, “I’m not sure about the next part so I need you to be honest here. Have you had suicidal thoughts or felt out of control? Know that there’s nothing wrong with having them, as long as you don’t carry them out.”

  I could feel myself shaking from the revelations coming from this man. How the fuck did he know? “Did Nate or Marjorie talk to you?”

  He looked me in the eyes and shook his head. “No. It’s my job to know who I’m dealing with. If I can’t figure out my patients, then I’m no good as a therapist.”

  I nodded, not wanting to admit my weakness, but feeling that he already knew what I was about to confess. “I had Nate hide my medication, but he ended up throwing it away. I’d tried to take a few extra pills from time to time, tempting fate, but never getting close enough to go through with things.”

  I was surprised to feel a weight being lifted off my shoulders. It was such a relief for someone else to know this besides me. I heard the influx of air and looked up to see Marjorie standing with her mouth open and one hand on her chest. She overheard my admission!

  Kent looked between us. “I’m sorry, Ethan. Carol should have watched Marjorie more carefully, not allowing her in on our private session. So I take it that she didn’t know?”

  I shook my head. “No. I hadn’t admitted it to her, though I suspect she’s questioned it. Am I right?” I asked as I looked up at her.

  She nodded.

  Kent looked between us. “I know we’ve only just started with therapy. Can I guess that by the way you’re opening up that we’ll continue? You did promise me.”

  I was man enough to admit that he’d figured me out and that I’d like to come back. “Yes, we’ll continue.”

  He picked up the clipboard off the floor and motioned for Marjorie and Carol to come in and take a seat. “I’d like to propose something to each of you.”

  They both watched Marjorie take a seat right next to me, even grabbing my hand to hold onto.

  They nodded toward one another, exchanging some kind of communication between them. “We propose, if you’re both in agreement, to have some couples therapy sessions, along with your individual ones.”

  We both started to protest, but Carol stepped in. “We’ve watched both of you rely heavily on one another during the course of this past year. We know you’re friends, so when we say couples therapy, we mean that we’d like to put you both in the same room to talk. You seem to be strength to one another, and we think it may help each of you overcome certain issues. You might be more willing to face them and discuss them together than by yourselves. If there are certain aspects you don’t want divulged, we can do that privately. It’s up to each of you.”

  I looked over at Marjorie and quirked my head to the side, silently asking what she thought. She nodded and smiled weakly. I shook my head, not wanting to jump this far this fast, but what the heck. Kent had already made me realize that I was dealing with more than what I’d thought and that I hadn’t managed to fool anybody with my actions. I already felt a little better having talked with him. “I guess I’m okay with it. If we don’t like it we can always talk with each of you one-on-one, right?”

  Kent nodded. “Of course.” He looked over at Carol and asked her and Marjorie to wait in the waiting room while we finished.

  “I’m sorry your confession was heard by Marjorie. I know you can trust her not to share your secret, just as you’ve held on to some of hers. That is not how we usually do business. Going forward, we have you both scheduled at the end of the day, so it’s just us in the office.”

  I was feeling more relaxed, thinking our discussion was over, when he floored me. “Let’s go back to the last question at hand. Do you feel out of control? Any differences between how you were feeling prior to the accident versus now? You can keep it short because our time is up. I just want to get an idea of what we’re dealing with since I didn’t know you prior to the accident.”

  I thought about it for a few minutes. “I felt my life had more purpose; I knew where I was headed and what I wanted out of life prior to the accident. But since then I feel lost, like someone else is pulling the strings and I’m at their mercy, not living for what I want anymore. If I’m being honest, I feel violence and rage toward Tom for what he did not only to me, but to the entire Prescott family and their friends. I’m angry at my former employers for not
keeping me on, angry with myself for letting this happen, and feeling I’m somehow responsible.”

  He stood with an outstretched hand to help me up from the comfortable sofa. “I honestly don’t know how you’ve made it this far without blowing up at someone. I admire your strength and courage to move forward, but I guess that has a lot to do with the family and friends that have supported you. I think we can re-establish some of the order back into your life and find healthy avenues to release some of the pent up anger and rage you’re harboring.”

  He placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze to get my attention. “I’m going to give you a homework assignment. I want you to really think about your life. Ask yourself, ‘Can I go back to my past? Do I want to? Am I stuck in the present? Where would I like to be and how can I get there?’ I want you to be honest with yourself and let me know your responses when you return. We’ll keep this just between us.”

  I knew what he was trying to do. He wanted me to think about my life. He’d already earned my respect. He spoke to me in a blunt fashion and got me thinking, realizing I was trying to hang onto a past that was no longer possible, something the other doctors couldn’t do.

  He started walking with me toward the door. “Let’s get both of you back in here in a few days and do a longer, more intensive therapy session. You won’t get a prescription from either Carol or me. We believe in good old-fashioned talking and finding helpful solutions to your issues. There’ll be no easy way out of all this with us.”

  Before I knew what had happened, I’d agreed to another session for both Marjorie and me together. We’d start off with a couples discussion, supporting one another, and if need be break off into individual talks.