by S. J. McGran
My brain snaps back to life and I bring my own arms to wrap around him, holding him to me. I take just as much from the embrace as he does, loving the comfort, the connection.
He pushes back from me after a while and gives me a shy smile. My lips quirk in a half smile as I look up at him, “You know what I need? Ice cream. Let me shut everything down and then let's get out of here, what do you say?”
He smiles then, a full on, heartbreaking, smile and I feel my grip on reality slip just a little more. I shouldn’t be going anywhere with him. I shouldn’t have been here with him in the first place, but he needs to feel important, special and if no one else is going to do it then I will. Even if it’s just for tonight. I’ll make Rico a priority. Something no one has ever done for him before.
“Ice cream? It’s cold enough to snow out there.” His nose is screwed up and his eyes are wide, and he’s looking at me like I’m the craziest person alive.
Reaching out I pat his arm. “Oh, young grasshopper. You have so much to learn,” I laugh at my own lame joke. Turning away from him I busy myself with shutting down my computer and locking up my files. “Ice cream is so not just for the summer.”
His rich laugh bounces through the room. “Seems I do have a lot to learn then.”
Slipping on my coat and gloves I walk us out of the office and through the darkened hallways of the building. All the while, Rico stays close to me. Too close.
I keep checking over my shoulder to make sure none of my colleagues are around because this is so a violation of company policy. We are not supposed to spend any time outside of billed hours with our clients. Which means we are definitely not supposed to eat dinner with them, and then take them out for ice cream.
But, I promised myself I would be carefree, didn’t I?
It may not be the sexual release I was craving, but for once I’m stepping outside of the lines. I’m breaking the rules. I’m doing what I want to do and it feels good. Damn good.
Once we’re outside a large burst of wind whirls around us tossing up the remaining leaves on the ground. The air is cold and a glance up at the cloudy night sky tells me snow probably isn’t too far off.
Pulling my coat tighter, I stuff my hands in my pockets trying to stave off the chill.
“So, how about coffee instead, genius?”
Sticking my tongue out at him I try to keep up my argument that ice cream is good year round, but another gust of wind knocks the words right out of my mouth. Instead, I just nod my head up and down in agreement. Hot coffee sounds so much better right now.
He just laughs at me, grabbing my arm and pulling me in the direction of his beat up pick-up truck.
Chapter Eight
Rico
The small coffee shop Riley directed me to is located right in the heart of the Art District, close to the campus. The shop itself is small and eclectic. There are literally three tables in the entire place and tucked near the back is a fireplace, with a couch and a couple of plush chairs surrounding it. Riley and I claim the chairs and that was our first mistake.
Our second was choosing a shop near campus. At nine o’clock on a Friday night. The only other person in the place is the barista working behind the counter, and she’s too busy playing on her phone, probably deciding what party to hit up when she gets off to pay us much attention.
Riley sits curled up in the chair, her legs tucked underneath her, with the oversized coffee mug tucked between both hands and nestled against her chest. She gazes into the fire, with a serene look on her face. Mistake number three.
She brings her mug up to her lips, closing her eyes, and letting out a soft moan when the warm liquid hits her tongue. That was her fatal mistake.
I’m not even sure if she’s aware of me, she’s so wrapped up in her own peaceful bubble. But, I have never been more aware of her.
She looks completely blissed out and for once she looks relaxed. In her office, she’s always in control, always so proficient. I’ve seen her relax a handful of times—tonight when we were eating, and a few months back when she played music for me for the first time and let me dance with her—but even then she still had her guard up.
Setting her mug down on the table she turns toward me and catches me staring. An adorable blush creeps along her cheek.
“What are you looking at?”
“You,” I answer honestly.
Her eyes shift away momentarily before bringing them back to look at me. Her brow wrinkles and her lips pucker like she can’t imagine why anyone would willing study her. “Why are you looking at me?”
“It’s the first time I’ve seen you look relaxed, completely relaxed. You look beautiful.”
She tries turning her head away from me so I can’t see the blush deepen, but I catch sight of it anyways. It reminds me just how sweet this girl really is. I don’t know what it is about her that drives me so completely insane, but I do know I want to get to know her better. I want to get closer to her. I need to get closer to her.
“Tell me about yourself, Riley Andrews.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Anything. Everything.”
I watch as she relaxes back into her chair even further, a small smile playing on her lips. “Um, I love music and ice cream and coffee….”
I fight back a chuckle at the awkward answer, she’s telling me things I already knew. “Yes, I’m pretty sure I already figured those things out. Where are you from?”
“Fairmont Harbor. It’s a tiny town a few hours away from here.”
“Why did you move?” I ask sitting up a little straighter in my chair. During our sessions, she’ll occasionally let a little piece of her slip out, or she’ll use an example from her life to help me figure out what the hell do with mine. But, she never really opens up. A steel gate is always at half-mast just waiting to slam shut if she lets out too much information. And the longer she talks about herself, the more enthralled I find myself. I want to know what makes Riley Andrews tick. I want to know what made her so shy and closed off. I want to know what made her so kind and considerate. I want to know what makes her wild and crazy, if there even is a wild and crazy side to her.
“My hometown is tiny. It’s one of those places where everyone knows everyone else and everything about them. Nothing is private. Nothing is sacred. Nothing is exciting. I wanted to move somewhere where I could scream and shout and fall in love and get my heart broken and make mistakes and succeed without the entire town knowing about it.”
I laugh at her sudden animation, with each word she got more and more excited, more and more passionate. Check off another thing about Riley Andrews that is adorable. “And, has the big city provided that to you?”
“Hmm. That’s a whole different story, Mr. Jones.”
Holy shit. My cock is halfway hard at her tone. It’s teasing and light, and slightly flirty. And the way she called me Mr. Jones? Good god.
“That’ll have to wait for another time,” she continues. “Maybe when I’m drinking something a little stronger than coffee.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
For the next hour or so we sit just like that chatting about nothing, in particular. But, the entire time I’m there I’m wearing a smile on my face. My cheeks burn with happiness—and for a moment it makes me feel uncomfortable, it’s not something I’m used to. But, it’s nearly impossible not to be happy around this girl. She just brings it out in you.
For the next hour, I become more and more aware of just how fucking screwed I am when it comes to this girl. She’s going to completely wreck me, and I can’t fucking wait.
Chapter Nine
Rico
December 2013, Session Ten
Over the last couple of months, I’ve gotten used to coming to my sessions with Riley. I’ve even on some level looked forward to them. Sure, part of that is the chance to see her again. To spend some time with her. But, mostly I just look forward to telling someone something about my past I’ve kept hidden. I enjoy
being able to drop some of the weight I’m constantly carrying in someone else’s lap.
Riley makes me think. Makes me question everything. Makes me wonder why the hell I’ve been holding onto all of this anger, guilt, and fear for so damn long.
I’m dreading today’s appointment, though. Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. I hate this damn holiday. I hate the memories it brings. I hate the fear it instills in me. I hate the weakness I feel every time I think about what I did two years ago on that day.
I hate knowing Riley is going to pry and dig until I tell her everything. Fuck. I am so not looking forward to this.
“Sup, doc.” I breeze through her office door with a fake smile on my face and as much bravado as I can muster.
“Hey!” Her chipper voice hits me and for the first time it annoys me, instead of making me feel lighter. “Do you have any big plans to bring in the new year?”
“Nope.”
My clipped tone finally breaks through, her head snapping up to take me in. I take a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk, something I never do, something she takes note of. Without taking her eyes off of me, she rounds her desk and takes the chair next to me. Her hand lands on my forearm and I flinch at the contact. Something else I’ve never done.
“Talk to me,” she says in a low voice.
I want to tell her to fuck off, to go find someone that wants to be helped, to stop wasting her time on me because I’m worthless, helpless. I want to tell her all of those things until I look over and see the worry and concern pouring out of those damn eyes I love so much, and I find myself powerless to stop it. Words and emotions spew from my mouth without my permission.
“I hate this holiday. I hate that everyone thinks that the promise of a new year brings new hopes, new dreams, and it erases all of the shitty things you did the year before. None of that goes away. You still have to carry your mistakes with you. You don’t get to just walk away from your mistakes. You don’t get to just set new goals and forget the ones you failed last year.”
Pushing out of my chair I start pacing the room. My hands fisting my hair. My breathing coming in uneven pants. Fuck. If I could take everything back from my past, I would. I wish it worked the way the media wants us to see it. I wish I could just find new dreams and goals and forget everything from my past ever happened.
I wish I were stronger back then. I wish I had a reason to live back then. I wish I hadn’t taken those drugs. Or, maybe I wish I had taken more.
My pacing stops at that last thought. Never once have I admitted I wish I had taken more. Never once have I admitted—even to myself—that I wish I would have died that day. Until now.
My legs literally give out, my knees buckling under the weight of the panic. Falling to the floor I land on my knees. I hear Riley’s gasp and my name falls off her lips worriedly, but it’s all background noise.
Do I really wish I had died that day? The question plays over and over on a loop in my mind. It’s all I can think. It’s all I can hear.
My chest rises and falls rapidly. I feel my lungs burn with the need for oxygen. My cheeks feel damp. My body feels hot and sticky. Still, these things barely register in my mind.
Did I want to die?
Do I want to die?
Cold hands grip my face. The tears lying on my cheeks getting absorbed by their touch. Snapping my eyes open I find Riley sitting in front of me her eyes wide with worry. “Rico?” Her voice is strong like she’s trying to bring me back from wherever I went. She doesn’t say anything else for a long moment. She just stares at me, her eyes begging me to talk to her. To breathe. “Listen to me, Rico,” she starts in a confident voice. “You are going to be okay. You are going to fight this. I’m going to help you.”
Her words take me by surprise. The conviction in them. The sureness. The unyielding support she’s offering me. I take comfort in her words. In the determination and care in her eyes. In the strength of her hold on my face.
My breathing slows and becomes more regular. The tears stop falling. My body cools and shivers run through me as the sweat on my back starts to dry.
Mentally I’m nowhere near okay. But, physically I think I’m better than I was a few minutes ago at least. Unable to trust my voice just yet I nod my head in answer.
Her shoulders sag with relief and she does something that shocks me still. Her small arms wrap around my neck, her face tucking against my shoulder as she squeezes me tightly.
For a moment, I just sit there unsure of what to do. We’ve hugged exactly one time, but I initiated it. I’m not sure what to do in this situation, my mind is still partially trapped in that hellish world, in that memory, in those words that I forget what to do. But, eventually I remember how to react.
Wrapping my arms around her waist I pull her into me. Relishing the comfort she’s giving me. I don’t know how long we sit like that, but it’s long enough for me to climb off the cliff I was teetering on.
At this moment, I’m thankful I didn’t die if for no other reason than to have this sweet girl wrapped around me. Sure, it’s not sexual but I can’t really remember the last time someone just held me, just comforted me. Cared for me.
It’s nice.
Pulling back just slightly Riley’s grip on me loosens, her tear stained face looks at me apprehensively—I didn’t even know she was crying. I know the therapist in her wants to ask me where I went. What happened? But, the girl—Riley Andrews—just wants to make sure I’m okay.
Her lips tilt in a half smile and my heart skips a beat. “Glad to see you’re back.”
My own lips twitch, but the emotions are still too raw to really smile. Clearing my throat, I look away a little embarrassed that she had to witness just how weak I really am. It’s one thing to talk to her about it, it’s a whole other thing for her to bear witness to it. “Um, I’m sorry about that.”
“Does that happen often?” I just shake my head. That’s never happened before. “Listen, we don’t have to talk about it today, okay? I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
When she stands and starts to move away I unfold from my awkward position, I lay flat on my back. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to move. I don’t want to think. But, those thoughts terrified me. And, if there is anyone in the world that can understand me and help me figure those thoughts out it’s Riley.
“Have you ever wanted to die, Riley?”
For a minute, the room is completely silent. The only sounds are of us breathing. Then, I hear her footsteps and have to fight back a tiny smile when she lies back down on the floor next to me. She mimics my pose, her back flat on the ground, legs crossed at the ankles, and arms crossed over her chest. We’re both closed off, but we’re close enough that if either one of us moved our arms would brush, and once again I take comfort in her closeness.
“Once,” she answers, her voice whisper soft. “There was a moment in my life—the darkest moment of my life—where I remember praying, practically begging God to just let me die. To make the pain go away.”
Pain radiates through my chest at her words. She sounds so broken. So ashamed. So much like me.
I asked her the question, but I never could have expected her to give me that answer. Somehow I knew she had gone through tough times, I knew she harbored pain, too, but I never realized the depth of that pain. The fact that this sweet, innocent, caring girl wanted to die, that she suffered so much she wanted to throw it all away pisses me off. All I want to do is find the person that hurt her, find the person that broke her so much, and I want to make him suffer more than she ever did.
“Are you glad he didn’t listen?”
I hear her breath catch on a quiet cry and the pain slices through me once again. “Every day.”
I lay there helplessly listening to her cry and selfishly I take a tiny bit of comfort in her pain. I’m not alone. I’m not the only person that wishes the pain and suffering would end. I’m not the only person that’s been too weak to fight.
The
difference, though, between Riley and I is that she finally did fight. She fought against whatever was bringing her down and she came out stronger. She’s stronger than I’ll ever be because she fought.
Meanwhile, I’ve just been drifting. I’ve been mindlessly searching for a reason to live, for a reason to keep going. I’ve been stuck between life and death, unsure which I wanted more.
Until now.
Untangling my arms, I reach over and grab one of her hands in mine. I keep my eyes focused on the ceiling, as I finally—for the first time—decide what I want. “I don’t want to die anymore, Riley.”
Her hand tightens around mine, but still we don’t look at each other. “Good.” Is all she says to me, and for the first time today I smile.
I’m going to be okay.
This girl is going to help me find my way. Find my reason to live.
Because damn it, I want to live. I want to be stronger. I want to fight.
I want to win.
Chapter Ten
Riley
Tears lodge in my throat at his broken, determined words. I don’t want to die anymore. For a long while, I just lay on my office floor holding onto his hand for dear life as those words replay in my mind. I’m not entirely sure who needs the comfort more at this moment, but I do know we’re both taking it.
Rico is not my first client over the years that has considered death at one point or another, but none have affected me as much as Rico’s admission. When I asked him about the holiday I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I was unprepared for the amount of stress it would cause him.
It was careless.
I should have known it could be a trigger for him. I’ve read his file a dozen times. I knew he overdosed on New Year’s Eve a few years back. I knew it and yet I asked anyways.