by Gwyn McNamee
Shit.
She’s right, of course. I’ve spent weeks telling her how I met Dani, how we started dating, how our relationship progressed, but I never actually told her what happened. I’ve danced around the subject just like I’ve avoided talking about me and my family when she’s asked.
“So,” she continues, “today, you are going to tell me about you, and then you are going to tell me what went wrong with Danika.”
I hate talking about myself—truly. I’m sure there are people who love it, those vain people who get off on the attention, but I’m not one of those people, never have been. But, I guess if I really want to figure out how to fix things, I need to play along.
“What do you want to know?”
She smiles again. “Everything. Start by telling me about your family.”
I launch into the family tree, giving her the run-down of my parents and siblings as quickly and succinctly as possible. No need to volunteer too much information.
“You mentioned one of your sisters passed away. Can you tell me about that?”
My chest tightens. I should have expected she would ask. It’s only natural for her to wonder about that, and I should have been prepared to talk about it. She hasn’t asked about the chair either, probably waiting for me to mention it.
“Um, well, it was a car accident, three years ago. I was with her.”
“Is that how you were injured?” she asks, leaning forward slightly in her chair.
Creak.
I cringe. “Yes.”
Don’t volunteer information.
“I can see you’re uncomfortable talking about this, but sometimes the things we’re most uncomfortable discussing are what we really need to.”
Well, shit. Sense. Why does she have to make sense?
I take a deep breath and begin talking. I tell her about the accident. I tell her everything. I tell her the truth, the truth I’ve never told anyone—not Danika, not Gabe, not my siblings, not even my mother. By the time I’m done, I can’t see anything through my tears.
I fucking hate crying. There’s no other way to say it. I’m not a crier. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve cried in my life, and now, I am a blubbering idiot.
Something pushes against my hand, and through the veil of tears, I realize it is a box of tissues.
Jesus, I am such a pussy.
I grab one, blowing my nose and wiping my eyes quickly to destroy the evidence.
When I look back up at her, she’s watching me intently—no doubt analyzing me in ways I can’t even imagine. She offers me a kind smile. “Tell me about after the accident. Tell me about the hospital.”
Wow, she isn’t taking it easy on me, is she?
I talk, and talk, and talk, until I tell her all—every damn doctor, every surgery, every sleepless night, everything.
This isn’t so hard. Its clinical, it doesn’t rip my heart out the way talking about Star does.
When I finish, she simply nods. “Looks like we have a little time left. Do you want to talk about what happened with Danika?”
Jesus Christ, woman! Give me a fucking break!
I look at my watch. How could all of that only taken half an hour? Maybe because she didn’t say much, just nodded and gave me a lot of sympathetic looks. But I don’t want her sympathy. I want her to fix me.
“I kind of had a meltdown.”
“Meltdown? Explain what you mean by that.”
The night is all too clear in my head. “Well, the night started out great. Then it got weird…”
I tell her about the gallery, the run-in with Andrew and Becca, and everything else.
“When you say you froze, what does that mean? Tell me how you felt physically and what was going on in your mind.”
The answer to her questions isn’t readily apparent to me. “I don’t know exactly. My heart started racing, and not in a good way, my skin felt all tight, like it was shrinking all over my body, and I broke into a cold sweat. I felt like I was suffocating and couldn’t breathe.”
She nods and urges me to continue.
“I don’t think I was really thinking anything.”
She eyes me skeptically. “What was the last thing you do remember thinking before you had the panic attack?”
“I guess I was thinking how much I loved her, and how I just wanted her to be happy.”
“Was that all? Try to put yourself back in the moment, and tell me if you remember anything else.”
I close my eyes and remember the feeling of her skin against mine, her breath against my face and neck, her mouth on mine, her hand on my cock, easing it into her wet heat…
Shit. Getting a hard-on in the shrink’s office is not a good idea.
“Um, I guess I was thinking about what sex with her was going to be like.”
“What do you mean?”
What the hell do I mean?
All the fantasies I’ve had over the last four months of fucking Danika flood my brain—her against the wall while I slam into her, her pinned to the bed while I fuck her from behind, all the things I want to do and know I never can.
“I mean, I was wondering how I was going to, you know…do it…”
She leans back in her chair and nods. “Have you been with anyone sexually since the accident?”
What the fuck does that have to do with anything?
“No.”
“Have you tried to be with anyone else?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“How did Danika react when you froze?”
Dropping my head into my hands, I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to picture the look on her face before she turned her back on me and walked away. That will only lead to more tears.
“She was worried. She tried to calm me down, but I don’t think she had any idea what was happening.” The fear in her eyes is crystal clear in my mind, although I wish it was something I could forget.
“Did she say anything?”
I groan. “She told me she loves me.”
“You say that like it isn’t a good thing.”
“It is a good thing. I love her, too. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me. But…”
She waits for me to continue, but breaks the silence when it’s clear I won’t. “But what?”
I look back up at her when I hear the creak of the leather. “But I can’t give her what she needs.”
Dr. Cochran nods and leans toward me. “What is it you think she needs?”
“Fuck.” I pull my hair back and clench my eyes, remembering her words, her tears. “She needs someone who is fucking whole.”
“Did she say that?”
I shake my head, but avoid any eye contact with her.
“Savage. Please look at me.”
I finally look at her, and she smiles. “Did she say that?”
“No.”
“What did she say?”
As I could ever forget her words.
“She said it wouldn’t be a deal breaker if I couldn’t have sex, but that it was a deal breaker that I wouldn’t tell her what was going on.”
Doc relaxes back in her chair and watches me. “Hmm.”
“Why are you ‘hmming?’” My annoyance level has reached nuclear levels. Talking about this isn’t helping, all it’s doing is making me relive the worst fucking moments of my life.
“Well, you told me Becca left you after the accident…” I nod in agreement. “Why do you think she left?”
“How the fuck would I know?” I spit the words at her. “I never even spoke to her about it. All she told Storm was that she ‘couldn’t do it’ and then she fucking disappeared from my life.”
She left me when I needed her. She left me when my life had fallen apart.
“Just because she didn’t tell you doesn’t mean you haven’t speculated or thought about it. Tell me why you think she left.”
Her inability to see the obvious has my blood boiling. I am about an inch away from leaving and not coming back. “W
hy the hell do you think? Because I was a fucking wreck! I was in the hospital and had no idea how I was going to live like this, what it was going mean…she couldn’t deal.”
“Any chance you are projecting your perceptions of Becca’s feelings onto Danika?”
I hear the words, but they don’t process. They are a jumble of sounds in my head, mixing in with all the shit already floating in there. I shake my head, trying to clear away everything else, concentrate on what she said, but I can’t.
“Savage?”
“What?” I snap, but she doesn’t recoil. She watches me for a moment before continuing.
“Is it possible you are projecting the way you think Becca felt onto Danika? It seems to me, based on what she told you, that she loves you, and isn’t going anywhere, no matter what.”
Is that what I have been doing? Have I been ignoring everything Danika has said and done, and let my own mind create problems that don’t exist?
If that is what I have been doing…how the fuck do I stop?
The flashing lights and bumping bass make it impossible for me to stand still. I toss back the last of my drink and move to the dance floor to find Caroline. She has her ass ground against the crotch of a very attractive blond man in tight jeans and a white button-down shirt. His hands are all over her.
I grin at her as she winks and holds her hand out to me. I grab it and let her pull me to her.
Our hips bump together and she leans in, pressing her lips to my ear. “Thank God! You have returned to the land of the living. If you sat at the table for five more minutes you might have grown roots. Let’s see you get this thing going!” She smacks my ass and blondie behind her laughs and nuzzles against the back of her neck.
Looks like someone is getting laid tonight.
Shit.
I don’t want to think about sex. In fact, I have intentionally avoided anything sexual for weeks. Thinking about sex means thinking about Savage, and the fact I haven’t heard from him since he told me he loves me, in a fucking text message. I told him I wasn’t going anywhere and he disappeared on me—completely.
He’s okay. I know that. Nora has, somewhat reluctantly, provided me some tidbits of information. She says he has barely left his office, but always smiles and says hello to her. It has to be awkward. He probably assumes I told her everything, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I could never betray him like that. Yes, I told Caroline, but that’s different. Caroline is Caroline. Nora is his employee.
Caroline yanks on my hips, bringing me back to the present as she grinds her pelvis against mine, sandwiching herself between me and her new friend. I try to lose myself in the music, in the beat, in the sway of my body against hers.
Maybe this is exactly what I needed—time to unwind and forget the stress of the Savage situation and my dead story. Paul has disappeared again, and this time, I’ve given up hope of ever hearing from him. He made his choice—he chose the bad guys. Either that, or he is dead in the bayou.
That thought sends chills down my spine but does nothing to discourage me from continuing. I’ll just have to find another source for my story.
At least that gives me something to keep me occupied. I’ve been trying to make new contacts and find new sources over the last couple weeks, but people around Abello are tight-lipped. It certainly won’t be easy, but I’m up for the challenge.
Someone sidles up behind me—a hard, tall body plastered against my back. Something I haven’t felt in weeks grinds against my ass and I stifle a moan.
Shit.
I glance over my shoulder and find a dark-haired stranger grinning at me as his hands come around my waist.
“Hey,” he says, dropping his mouth to my ear, “you know, you are the most beautiful woman out here tonight. I love the way you move.”
Any other night, well any other night pre-Savage, that probably would have worked. I would have been out the door with him in ten minutes and fucking him within twenty. But the moment the words leave his mouth, I pull away from him and bolt toward the back of the club.
Someone grabs my wrist, halting my retreat. “Dani, where are you going?” Caroline’s wide-eyed gaze searches my face for an answer, but right now, I just need air and to get away from the hot, hard bodies, and my guilt.
“Caroline,” I plead, “please, let go.”
“No,” she says, getting in my face, “what happened back there?” She points toward the dance floor, where her blond partner is watching her expectantly and motioning for her to come back.
“Nothing. I just, wasn’t feeling it and I have to pee.”
She eyes me, clearly not buying the bullshit I’m putting out. She knows me too well and isn’t going to let this go.
“Fine. I’m coming with you, then.”
“What about blondie back there?” I look back to the dance floor and he’s still watching Caroline intently, although the dark-haired man with the raging hard-on has disappeared.
She waves to him and points to the back. He nods and turns around, disappearing off the far side of the dance floor.
Surprisingly, there isn’t any line for the bathroom. I enter a stall and take care of business, relishing the few seconds of privacy, because I know as soon as I step out, Caroline will be all over me again.
I flush and open the door. She’s leaning against the counter, her foot tapping in time with the music. “You going to tell me what really happened?”
After dropping my purse on the counter, I wash my hands and turn to her. “He used some cheesy pickup line on me and it reminded me how much I hate the club scene, and the men here.”
“Oh really?” she asks, a smirk on her face. “Since when? You used to love coming here.”
Sighing, I reach into my purse for my phone. “Since you know when. Now, drop it. Please.”
My heart lurches into my throat when I see Savage’s name on my screen with a new text message. After weeks of nothing, finally, he’s reaching out to me.
Some fucking timing.
I shudder thinking about that guy touching me and with shaking hands, I swipe the screen and open the message.
> I miss you. It probably isn’t fair for me to be contacting you like this, not when I’m still not in any place to try to fix things. But, I can’t stop thinking about you and wondering if you are okay. I can’t stop missing you. I need you to know I love you and I am really trying to make things right. I hope you can forgive me. <
“Danika? What is it?” Caroline leans in over my phone and reads the message. “Oh.” She slinks back and drops against the counter again. “So, what are you going to do?” The disapproval in her voice does not go unnoticed.
Turning to her, I glare. “What’s your problem?”
“You. You are my problem. You haven’t been you in a long time, Danika, ever since you met Savage. At first, I thought that was a good thing. You were maturing, settling down, but now, I think this guy is just wrong for you, and you won’t let it go.”
Wrong for me?
“No, I won’t let it go. Because I love him—”
“Sometimes love isn’t enough, Dani. He’s your first relationship, like ever, and you jumped into it without having any concept of what it means. You’ve been nothing but miserable since you met him and you’ve changed, and not in a good way.”
“Jesus, Caroline, how can you actually think that? Savage is the best thing that ever happened to me.”
She huffs and rolls her eyes at me. “Bullshit! You went from being happy and carefree, completely enjoying your life, to crying and being depressed, unless you were angry at him for something. A healthy relationship shouldn’t be like that.”
“Like you would know what a healthy relationship is. When was the last time you had one?”
The glare she gives me could melt the polar ice caps. “This isn’t about me, Dani, it’s about you and Savage.”
“Exactly! It’s about me and Savage, so you have absolutely no say in it. God, why can’t you just be happy for me?”
>
“I would be happy for you if you were happy, Dani. But you’re not.”
I can’t deny she’s right about that, I haven’t been happy the last couple weeks, how could I be? But to say Savage isn’t good for me, that this relationship isn’t good for me, couldn’t be more wrong.
“Care, you need to stop butting into my life. It’s none of your fucking business what goes on between me and Savage.”
“It is my business, Dani. I can’t stand by and watch you be miserable any more. You were happier when you were just being a slut.”
My hand whips out and my palm smacks across her cheek before I even realize what I’m doing. The sting of my palm connecting with her flesh and her shriek of surprise makes me shake my head and take a step back. I’ve never struck someone out of anger before, ever.
She looks at me with wide, confused eyes and presses her hand to her reddening cheek. “Jesus, Danika! You need to remember who your friends are.” She turns and flees the bathroom and I turn and stare at myself in the mirror.
Where the hell did that come from?
Caroline has called me a slut thousands of times and I’ve never been offended, not even once. Hell, I’ve called myself a slut more times than I can count. So, why did it set me off and turn me into the raging Hulk this time?
She’s just trying to look out for me, right? Am I deluding myself in thinking Savage and I will be able to work things out?
Savage.
He’s why that word made my blood boil.
For the first time in my life, I wasn’t with a man just to get off. Despite my bone-deep aversion to romance and relationships, I fell in love with him and being separated from him—even though I know it’s the right thing—has been excruciating. If we can’t make this work, I don’t know how I can ever go back to my old life of meaningless sex. Because, let’s face it, Caroline wasn’t saying anything that wasn’t true before Savage.