“I’m sorry. I should have called you. You probably made a trip to the office for nothing.”
“I would have appreciated a call.” Greg mentally congratulated himself for his forbearance. This was a step in the right direction in rebuilding their relationship. The ass paddling could wait.
“I went to see a therapist.”
Greg dropped his sandwich right into his soup where it immediately became saturated with tomato broth and coated with little macaroni numbers and letters. He stared at Lacey and managed to close his gaping mouth before opening it enough to ask, “You did?”
“I have an appointment tomorrow morning with her. Dr. Massey. She seems nice, and I like her. She thinks I’m a strong person.”
“No surprise here, honey. She must be a good shrink to figure that out so fast.”
“If she supports me in this, then you’ll have to leave.”
Greg instantly reacted. Oh no. The little wench thought she was going to give him his walking papers. Not going to happen. “We’ll both support you, Lacey,” he said quietly.
“What if she tells me that you and I shouldn’t be together, that it wasn’t a good plan to begin with?”
“Shrinks don’t pass judgment as far as I know unless somebody is in trouble or at risk or something. She must have given you the spiel.”
Lacey drank some soup and then nodded. “She did. But now that I’m feeling better and getting some help, your job is done here.”
“Goddamn it, woman!” Greg stood so fast his chair flew back and crashed to the floor. Lacey’s eyes widened, and she shrank back in her chair. He felt a hint of regret at startling her, but she was pushing so freaking hard.
“You need to get it through your head that I am not going anywhere. I love you, and we are going to work things out because you still have feelings for me no matter how hard you try to push me away!”
Greg picked his soup bowl up and dumped it and its contents into the sink, trying to get control of himself as he did so. The actions bled off some of his frustration but not enough. He tried biting his lip to seal the words in but couldn’t manage it. He turned and fixed Lacey with a look that normally would have closed the subject in their past life.
“I’m going to fight you every step of the way, Lacey, if you persist with this attitude. Taking care of you, being with you, is not a job, not a task. It’s my lifelong commitment to you, and unless you can look me in the eye right now and tell me that there is not one iota of hope left for us, that you have not one caring feeling, then you will meet me halfway.”
Lacey’s eyes filled with tears, and her bottom lip trembled. She blinked furiously, but moisture leaked from the inside corners of each eye, and Greg felt like a total schmuck. He clenched his fists and made himself stay put, not go to her, and waited.
“The doctor said you wanted to make amends,” she said. “I thought this was like your honor thing with KarLynn. I couldn’t do this again and have you leave when you think I’m recovered. I love you, Greg, and probably always will. But I hate you, too. I hate you for getting inside of my head and owning me and my thoughts. For being my whole life and then dropping out.”
The words began to come in choppy bursts now. “And I hate myself for holding you back from healing. We aren’t good for one another. We couldn’t deal with adversity together. You need to go and leave me alone. I need to heal and have a life that doesn’t involve meeting your needs when you aren’t honestly meeting mine, because it obviously doesn’t work for us.”
Greg had thought he’d been gutted before, but it was nothing compared to what he heard coming out of Lacey’s mouth. The truth did indeed hurt, and he found it hard to draw a breath against the onslaught of it. His vision narrowed, and tiny flashes of light burst along the edges. He felt his body move and his hands reach out to yank Lacey up out of her chair and into his arms, tight against his body. He kissed her with everything that boiled and writhed within him until she was limp against him from lack of air. He then set her back on her feet and waited until she found her bearings before releasing her.
“When you figure it out, I’ll be waiting, Lacey.”
* * * *
She watched Greg grab his jacket and keys and let himself out the door, closing it quietly behind him, the snick of the lock sounding very loud in the silence. She felt bereft and totally alone. Well, it was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Time alone to grieve and to heal. Greg had had no place in her life for months, and she had managed without him, even if it was only because she had to cope for the life growing within her. His brief reentry hadn’t been significant. If anything he had made things more difficult for her, correct? She raised a shaky hand to her lips and felt him there. He had told her so much in that savage kiss, told her of his love and passion and commitment. It said even more than his last statement to her. The tears returned and with them great, gulping sobs of anguish. She had no fucking idea what she wanted. She did know that she had hurt Greg Jackson as effectively as if she had shoved a knife into his heart and twisted it, and felt shamed by it. She had spoken the truth as she felt it, but pushing him away might mean never really knowing it, because it had been spoken in anger.
She sat back down at the table and forced herself to eat a few more spoonfuls of soup before clearing away the remnants of the aborted meal. Today, this minute, was the start of the rest of her life, and maybe she would know what to do in the next one. In the meantime, she would try to fill the hours until her appointment in the morning. She started with cleaning the kitchen and by the time her stomach was reminding her that dinner hour had come and gone, she had worked her way through the living room and bathroom and finally into the bedroom. Even the little spare bedroom had been turned over and every trace of what it might have been used for, eliminated. The place shone with elbow grease and smelled of polish and floor cleaner. Lacey’s mind was blank and uncluttered to match, and she pulled her sweaty clothes off, grimacing at the fact that she hadn’t changed from her work outfit. She dropped them into the hamper, not bothering to check if dry cleaning was more in order. They were probably ruined anyhow with the products she had spilled on them, but at least she was tired enough to sleep again without lying awake, or so she hoped. She hated to mess up the kitchen again, but she made some tea and toast, indulging in some brown sugar and cinnamon, the comfort food assuaging both her stomach and soul. The cool linens of her bed welcomed her aching body and she resolved to shower in the morning. She closed her eyes tightly and waited for sleep. And waited.
She was a weak, sniveling coward. That’s what she was, and a martyr to boot. She wasn’t strong. She wanted Greg to come back and hold her, sleep with her and make her burnt toast and rubbery eggs in the morning. She couldn’t do this by herself, and she had sent him away because she was so damn angry that she needed to punish him and have her revenge and what kind of person did that make her? A weak, sniveling, martyred coward, that’s what. He said he would be waiting but why would he? She hadn’t even been able to fight with him, because he wouldn’t fight back. He’d come over all understanding and sweet and so not Greg. Damn him. And her. She was thinking in concentric circles and getting no closer to the truth. Well, she knew one truth, and it was that she wanted Greg. She would tell Dr. Massey her decision in the morning and maybe figure a way to work things out.
* * * *
Shit, shit, shit! She must have fallen asleep right after her soul-searching and self-torment and decision to talk with her new therapist. New! Her first therapist. It was like going on a first date. A date that she was going to be late for because although she had eventually slept the sleep of the dead, she hadn’t set her alarm. The sound of the neighbor’s lawnmower had tickled the edge of her consciousness and brought her to the surface. A shower was a must, and Lacey rushed through one, wrapping her sopping hair in a towel to deal with after she dressed. She threw on a pair of jeans and tucked in a plain shirt over some sensible underwear and then toed on a pair of sneakers, sans socks. She made
a travel mug of coffee and found an apple in the crisper before running a brush through her towel-dried mane. There wasn’t time for makeup, and she ran out to her car, fumbling with the keys, her apple clutched in her teeth and the mug sloshing in her other hand. She was almost at Dr. Massey’s, the apple core residing in the ash tray and the coffee nearly consumed, when she realized she hadn’t done her research. Well, she had done something better. She had come to a decision. Maybe she didn’t need a therapist. Life was freaking complicated.
Jenna offered her a seat, and Lacey covertly looked at her watch. She wasn’t late, so Dr. Massey must have another client in with her. She jittered on the edge of her seat for a few minutes and then made herself relax. She would see where this took her. At the very least, she thought it might sort out her thoughts because life would go on, with or without her. She thought about Greg while she waited. Her body remembered the feel of his hard-on against her the day he had lifted her from the tub, believing he had caused her discomfort. She had longed to throw herself back into his arms after he had set her on her feet and cling to him, and resisting him had taken her strength and much of her resolve. If he had pushed her that day, she would have caved, but he had missed the opportunity, and she now realized that Greg still had some work of his own to do before he came back to himself. She didn’t want a new-and-improved Greg. She wanted the old Greg back, albeit with a reserve to draw on should he be traumatized again, and considering his profession, that wasn’t an unlikely occurrence. As for herself, she wanted to talk about her losses and find a way to work them out with Greg. She hoped he meant that he would be waiting, but she couldn’t think about that now.
The door to Dr. Massey’s office opened, and the therapist came out to greet her and invite her inside. No one came out with her, and it wasn’t until Lacey was back sitting in one of the wing chairs that she realized there was another exit to the office, allowing clients to leave with privacy. Lacey liked the idea, and she felt additional trust for the doctor.
“So, tell me what’s different for you today.”
Lacey snapped back to the present and said, “I blew up at my ex, and he went away, and now I want him back.”
She heard her words echo in the ensuing silence and started to laugh. Dr. Massey would think she was nuts, and maybe she was. She looked at the other woman’s face and was relieved to see her smiling, and it was a nice, natural smile, not condescending or placating.
“You certainly seem in a different space than yesterday. Would you like to talk about it?”
A fifty-minute hour later, Lacey felt more unburdened but no closer to what she should do about Greg. Dr. Massey suggested that sometimes these things took a bit more time to sort out. They booked a session for the following week and to her surprise, Lacey felt up to heading into work, despite having called Gladys to let her know she wouldn’t be in today. Just talking to someone who was both objective and supportive had helped to make things feel different somehow. She wasn’t all healed of course, but had a better idea of how to cope. The drive to work took but a few minutes, and Gladys was thrilled to see her.
Chapter Fourteen
Two months had passed, and Greg had heard nothing from Lacey. He kept in touch, on the sly, with Gladys and Edith, and both women advised him that she was doing quite well as far as they could tell. She was working full time, had been after a few part days, and was suffering no ill effects. Edith told him that Lacey didn’t leave her apartment once she got home from work other than to go to some weekly evening support group that had to do with grief and loss or to come down for a cup of tea. She shopped and such on weekends, and read a lot, but really had no social life that they were aware of. Lacey’s guardian angels both thought she was much more like her old self. Greg maybe could have gotten a referral to the same group from Dr. Martin, but he’d told Lacey he would be waiting, and wait he would. He wasn’t going to push himself on her. He had stated his case and made his point clear and now it was up to her. It chafed his alpha, but he was going to do this if it killed him.
He had been excused from weekly therapy sessions although he would continue to see Dr. Martin on a monthly basis, and as needed. Greg didn’t examine his newfound mental health too closely, but nor did he take it for granted. He knew when he had come back to himself, even if his therapist hadn’t yet said so, and he had learned enough about the inner workings of his head to seek help if he needed it. Now, he would just wait.
“Hey, Greg!” Max caught his attention. The garlic-eating Wolowitz was on vacation, and he and Max had been partnered for over a week now. They worked well together and spending time with Max was a comfort to Greg, who could talk about Lacey incessantly without being judged or interrupted. He suspected Max ignored him much of the time, but as long as his buddy made the right noises at the right times, he didn’t give a rat’s ass. Besides, Max seemed to crave his company as much as he enjoyed Max’s. Max acted more and more adrift despite his “nothing fazes me” attitude.
“You want to catch the game tonight?”
Greg shrugged. “Sure, there’s nothing else going on. You want to come to my place or do you want me to come to you?”
“Doesn’t matter. Maybe yours. It’s cleaner, and your screen is bigger.”
“Let’s get some dinner first, and that’ll take care of the evening then.” Greg thought they sounded like an old married couple, and it was essentially freaking sad, but no way was he going to isolate himself ever again.
They were in the middle of their meal at a local mom-and-pop restaurant that lots of cops patronized with and without their families when Greg’s cell rang. He swallowed his mouthful of steak and fished the phone from his pocket, grimacing at the slide of his greasy fingers. He had to stop eating so many french fries. He squinted at the screen and nearly shoved it into his ear canal in his rush to answer. Lacey.
“Lacey?” Greg could hear her talking to someone in the background and also the sound of shouting and banging. His heart rate kicked up. “Lacey!”
“Greg, Dr. Massey called the police, but they’re taking a long time and I thought…”
“Where are you?” Greg didn’t waste time on unnecessary questions. His woman was scared and had called him, and he was on it.
“I’m at Dr. Massey’s office. It’s on…”
“I know where it is. On the way.” Greg was moving to the till as he spoke, Max following without question. They both threw money on the counter and the proprietor waved them away, probably well used to impromptu exits. Max had the unmarked cranked over and moving almost before Greg had his door closed. He dictated the address to Max and checked the radio for chatter, but heard nothing that would alert him to any units at that address already, all the while telling Lacey he was on his way and gathering information from her.
Max grabbed the mic and advised dispatch of their off-duty status and their destination. It appeared they would be first on the scene, and Greg cursed at the paucity of responding officers. It was a domestic, and they were the worst, and Lacey was in the middle of one. She filled him in as the miles flew by, and then they were there. Max skidded to a stop in front of the building, leaving the unmarked as it drifted, nose in to the curb. Lacey had told him the husband was still contained in the foyer, and she didn’t think he was armed with a gun, because he hadn’t done anything to get in other than batter at the door with his fists and probably his feet, although she wasn’t certain about whether or not he had a knife or any other weapon. Greg’s gut clenched at the thought, but he then was out of the car and had his piece out of the holster and held by his side, close to his thigh, as he and Max moved as a team to enter the building. He told Lacey he couldn’t talk further until things were settled, but that he and Max were on the scene.
“Be careful, Greg. I couldn’t bear it if I called you here and you got hurt. Max, either.”
She sounded reasonably calm, but he could hear the residual fear in her tone and how it reflected in the timbre of her voice.
&nb
sp; “We’ll be fine, honey. Just sit tight.” It had nearly killed him to put the phone in his pocket and lose contact with her.
As they cautiously entered the building, Max touched his arm and nodded to a large, bulky form sitting up against a door near the far end of the hall. They carefully approached, and Greg hoped they wouldn’t have to shoot the man, because he didn’t respond to their demands that he cease and desist and show his hands. Aside from the repetitive banging of his head against the wooden panels of the door, however, he made no other movements. He didn’t even seem to notice them. The sudden entry behind them of a patrolman wielding a flashlight in one hand and his pistol in the other distracted Greg for a split second, but the man on the floor didn’t change his actions. Max quickly identified them as fellow officers, and they all made their way further up the hall. The individual remained slumped on the floor, and Greg could see the tears streaking his otherwise blank face. It was the visage of someone who was so grief stricken that he had passed into a different state of mind on another planet. Greg had seen it a time or two in his own mirror.
Greg asked the patrol cop to radio for an ambulance, and then he and Max pulled the listless bulk up to lean him against the wall and search for weapons. Finding none, they walked him outside and sat him on the front steps as his legs went out from under him. It had been like walking a large, unwieldy doll with rubber limbs and no will. After ensuring that the patrol cops had things under control, Greg headed in to find Lacey, calling ahead to ask her to open the door and then stand well back.
As soon as he heard the lock disengage, he shoved through a jumble of tables and chairs that had been piled against the door as an additional barrier against the man in the hall. It took him a couple of tries, but he made it, and he felt a knot in his gut at how the fellow in the hall could have gotten through with equal ease had he been able to burst the lock. Several women sat on the floor at the opposite end of the room, and one was weeping soundlessly in the arms of an older woman who reeked of calm authority. He didn’t miss the heavy bookend by her hand. She looked up and nodded to him, but then his gaze slipped past her to Lacey who was walking toward him, first like an automaton and then with increasing confidence. She hurled herself into his arms and he gathered her up, holding her close and breathing in the scent of her. She relaxed into him, and his heart swelled and overflowed with relief and love.
Done [Running to Love 4] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 11