by S. J. McGran
“I’m sorry I brought it up,” I keep my voice low, unable to mask the emotion still affecting me.
“Don’t be sorry, doc, it’s your job to ask the tough questions, isn’t it?”
I let out a light laugh and feel the tension ease out of my shoulders. “That it is.” I pause to gather my thoughts. This is something we absolutely have to talk about, but I’m not sure if we should talk about it today after his nerves have already gone through the ringer. I’m not sure how to broach the subject again, too afraid of setting him off again.
“I don’t even know why I did it.” Just as I was about to throw in the towel on today’s session, Rico’s admission rings through. “That’s what pisses me off the most. I don’t know why I wanted to die. Why I took more drugs than I knew was safe.”
“Do you remember what you were thinking about that night?”
He’s quite for a long while and I chance a look over at him. He is lying on his back, his one arm resting on his chest, his legs crossed at the ankles and his eyes are closed, but he looks far from relaxed. His full lips are pursed, a crease is wrinkling his brow, and somehow it looks like every muscle in his body is strained despite the position he’s in.
“I remember feeling weak. I had started using again about a month prior, for the first time in about a year. Jared knew something was going on, he kept questioning me and I kept lying. I knew in the back of my head I needed to tell him the truth. I needed to go to a meeting. But, I just didn’t care. I couldn’t find it in myself to care about anything other than my next fix. I wanted to be numb again. I wanted to forget that my best friend was moving on without me. I wanted to forget that the girl I was starting to fall for only wanted me for sex. I just wanted to get away from it all.”
I give his hand another squeeze letting him know I’m still there, but I don’t say anything for a minute. I want to give him the space he needs to work through everything he’s going through right now. It’s painfully obvious this is the first time any of these thoughts have occurred to him. I want him to process it all without me meddling.
I could use a few extra minutes to work through these things, too. I understand—probably more than most—the need to just let go and forget, to give up. The difference is Rico tried to walk away from his life, in the most damning way. I didn’t. I kept getting up. I kept fighting. I kept living.
But, why?
What made me want to keep going? What made Rico want to give up?
What makes him want to live now?
“I need you to listen to me when I say this, okay?” Rolling my head on the hard floor I give him my full attention, waiting until his sad brown eyes lock on mine. “You made a decision in a moment of weakness. That doesn’t make you weak, do you understand me?”
“Then why do I feel so weak?”
“Because you haven’t figured out, yet, just how strong and worthy you are.” When his brow crinkles even more in disbelief, I have to physically stop myself from wrapping my arms around him and holding him. This man has gone through so much. Survived so much. And yet, he has absolutely no belief in who he truly is.
Standing up I reach my arms out in an offer to help him to his feet. His large, strong hands wrap around mine and I pull with everything I have to lift him to an upright position—he gets there eventually, but I doubt it has anything to do with my help.
“I have an idea,” I state as I make my way back to my desk. Grabbing my notebook I rip a few sheets of paper out, handing them and a pen to Rico. “I’m going to leave, but I want you to sit here and make me a list of the reasons you no longer want to give up. We need to move on from that day, from that version of you. Give me any reason you can think of to keep living. I don’t care if it fills ten pages or if you only have one reason, write it down. When you’re done leave it on my desk and I’ll see you next week, okay?”
He gives me one hard nod in agreement. Turning on my heel I start to make my way out of the office. “Hey, doc?” I stop with my hand on the doorknob and turn to look back at him. His dark eyes are full of sincerity, his voice low, “Thank you.”
With a smile and a nod I make my way out of the office, quietly shutting the door behind me. I lean against it for a moment desperately needing a breather. His admissions nearly killed me today, but they also gave me a newfound sense of determination.
I am going to heal that man if it’s the last thing I do.
***
After my extended coffee break, I make my way back to my office both eager and nervous to see what Rico has come up with. I hope he was able to find at least a few solid reasons to keep living. To keep trying. I hope I didn’t break him even more by challenging him this way.
With a shaky hand, I pick up the piece of paper with exactly three bullet points written in messy hand.
1. Jared
2. There has to be more than this
3. Riley Andrews
My breathing comes out in large whoosh. My heart skips a beat. My eyes round before filling with tears.
Me? I’m a reason for him to keep going? But, why?
A million reasons run through my mind. Most of them crazy, irrational, unattainable. But, one reason lodges itself in my mind and I grasp onto it with everything I have. I have to believe it. I have to hope it’s the only reason my name is on that list.
I’m helping him. I believe in him.
That’s it. It has to be.
Chapter Eleven
Riley
January 2014, Session Eleven
I have been doing this job for a few years now. Most of the time, I feel prepared. I feel educated.
Except with Rico.
I break all of the rules with him. I cross the line with him. I share things with him about myself I shouldn’t. I get too close to him. I eat dinner with him and have coffee with him.
I lose myself when I’m with him.
It scares me. But, at the same time it’s thrilling and fun and exciting. I look forward to our sessions every week. I look forward to his smiles and his flirting. I look forward to our talks. I look forward to his breakthroughs.
I crave my meetings with him. I crave him.
Which is exactly why I need to start putting some distance between us. Like yesterday. Especially after our session last week. Emotions were running high, and the already blurred lines between us became almost nonexistent.
Thinking about it now I’m almost mortified. What if someone had walked in on us? What would they have thought when they saw us lying on the floor, holding hands? Or, when I was on my knees before him, holding him tightly to my body?
It was reckless. It was stupid.
The way his large, hard body wrapped around my smaller one. The way his hand dwarfed mine. The way his heady scent assaulted my senses every time he’d shift just slightly.
It doesn’t matter how much I might want that with him—that closeness—it can’t happen again. It just can’t.
Today is going to be hard enough. Glancing down at the crinkled paper in my hand I’m reminded of what we need to discuss today.
The list. The fact that my name is on that list.
Shit, I really need to put some space between us.
Just as I finish that thought my office door swings open and a happy looking—a very sexy looking—Rico Jones fills my doorway. “Okay, doc. I have an idea.” His smile is infectious and even though I just promised myself I was going to start putting some distance between us, I find it hard to resist the grin edging its way onto my face. He closes the door behind him, eating up the distance from the door to my desk in no time. “Let’s go on a date.”
My smile falls and my world shatters a little bit. Over the months, he’s skated around the idea of taking me out. He’s dropped little hints here and there, but never has he been so blunt. Never has he actually asked me out on a date.
I stammer over my words, nothing but sound actually leaving my mouth as I try to figure out the best way to approach this. I keep my eyes on his wide chest
, still stammering over my thoughts as he waltzes around my desk, crowding my space. Leaning against it and looking down at me, he flashes me that crooked I-always-get-what-I-want grin and says, “You know you want to, Kit. Just throw caution to the wind and do it for once.”
Just throw caution to the wind, he says like it’s so easy. I wish it really was that easy. I wish I was the girl that could bend the rules a little—or well a little more. That had the guts to go after what she wants.
But, I’m not. I never have been, and I’m not sure I ever will be.
I’m a rule follower. I’m a control freak. I’m… boring.
“I can’t, Rico. I’m sorry, but you know I can’t do that.”
“I know, doc. I know.” He says still wearing that cocky grin. It makes me nervous. It puts me on edge. He’s not going to let this one go. I can feel it.
I sit there still silent, watching as he walks with his head shaking over to the lounge area of the office. He slouches into the couch, lifts his head and pins me with a look that I swear just about melts my panties right off my body. With one eyebrow raised and his lips lifted in a cocky smirk, he asks in a teasing voice, “You okay, Kit?”
With a long sigh, I pull myself together. With my shoulders back and my spine straight, I put on my best no-nonsense look and give off the aura I’ve been trying to display for months—calm, cool, unaffected. But, on the inside I’m dying, melting. The sexy look he pins me with doesn’t help. Biting back a moan I finally make my way over to him relatively gracefully.
I try eye contact but find I’m too shaken to actually hold it, so instead I focus on my notes resting heavily on my lap. The problem is the sheet resting precariously on top of the folder is the list.
Clearing my throat, I prepare myself for asking the one question I’m completely unprepared to ask. But, before I can speak Rico beats me to the punch, “Nervous about something, Riley?” Ugh. That voice. I swear it’s like fucking velvet. It’s smooth and rich and… damn, it does things to me. “You clear your throat when you’re nervous, did you know that?”
I did know that, but I’m slightly disturbed that Rico has noticed my nervous tick. Fighting the urge to do it again I glance back down at my notes and pull out will power my closeted fat-girl would be shocked to know about. “We need to talk about this list, Rico. Can you start by telling me about the first reason you gave me? Jared?”
He lets out a slight chuckle at my obvious deflection, before leaning back against the leather couch even more. “You know about Jared already.”
“I know, but I want to talk about why he’s worth living for.”
Finally, I see some of the light fall from his eyes as he drops his flirtatious attitude—at least temporarily—and gets serious. This is one of the things that endears me to this man so much. He’s a walking contradiction.
Most of the time he’s sweet, funny, carefree, confident, and determined; yet, sometimes he’s scared, unsure, broken. But, no matter what mood he’s in he always finds a way to smile and always gets down to business when it’s needed.
“He’s my best friend,” he starts, his voice sounding quiet and sincere. “He was there for me when no one else was. He’s still the only person I can ever truly rely on. I want to prove to him that believing in me wasn’t for nothing.”
And, yet another reason I’m lusting over this man. He’s good. Down to his very core he’s good. He may have made mistakes along the way, he may have gotten a little lost a time or two, but he’s a good person. At least he desperately wants to be.
“Good. That brings me to the next reason on your list— ‘there has to be something more.’”
His humorless laugh causes me to glance up at him. “I’d rather talk about the third reason on my list. They are related, after all.”
Now that some of the sexual tension has eased I finally feel comfortable enough to meet his eyes. Or at least I thought I was. He’s looking at me like I’m everything he needs. He’s looking at me like I’ve always wanted to be looked at. Like I’m beautiful, important, special. His chocolate eyes are pleading with me to see him the way he sees me. Begging me to let him in.
And my heart is begging me to do the same.
Unfortunately, I’ve never been much of a romantic. I’m a realist through and through.
“Rico,” my voice sounds willowy even to my own ears.
He leans forward resting his forearms on his thighs. His eyes bore into mine, holding me captive. “You, Riley Andrews, are going to be my something more.” He pushes off the couch to come stand in front of me, with his hands braced on the armrests of my chair he gets into my face. “You can keep fighting me on this, but you’re going to give in one day. I know it. You know it.” Bringing one finger up, he brushes a strand of hair off my face sending chills down my spine. Pushing himself upright, he walks away from me without a backward glance.
Holy shit.
I’m screwed. Totally fucking screwed.
Chapter Twelve
Riley
Tossing my keys on the entryway table, I kick off my shoes and call out to my friend. “Rox? Are you home?”
Moving my way through the apartment I find Roxy sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her mirror. Her hands move efficiently to apply her eye makeup.
“We’re going out tonight,” I announce as I step through her doorway.
She flips around to eye me curiously. “Wait, we? As in you and I? As in you’re going out to a bar?”
Rolling my eyes, I feign annoyance though truthfully her accusation isn’t far off. I can’t tell you the last time I actually went out. “Yes. I’m going out. Why is that so surprising?”
She just laughs at me but doesn’t give me a definite answer. Sticking my tongue out at her back I head to my room to get ready. I need a night out. I need to get dressed up. I need to get drunk.
I need the attention of a man—a man other than Rico Jones because I need to forget about Rico Jones.
Opening my closet, I rip out my favorite black dress. Is there a piece of clothing more important in a girl’s closet than the LBD? I love this dress. I love the way it cuts just low enough in the front to showing off my cleavage in the perfect mix of class and sex appeal. I love the way it clings to my curvy hips and ass, showcasing my most favorite assets.
Slipping on a pair of black booties and grabbing my black shawl I head into the bathroom for the finishing touches. Running my fingers through my hair I brush out the tangles from a stressful day, giving it a few lifts at the roots. A quick run of red lipstick over my lips and I call it good.
I find Roxy waiting for me in the kitchen a glass of red wine to her lips and another ready and waiting for me. This is why we’re best friends.
“Hot damn,” she whistles when she gets a good look at me. “You are on the prowl tonight, sister. I love it.”
Grabbing the wine glass I take a generous swig allowing the dry burn of alcohol to soothe away the stresses of the day. In just a few sips I feel the tension in my shoulders ease, the thoughts in my head stop bouncing around as much, and an eagerness to go out and have fun rushes through me.
“Let’s go dance our asses off,” I proclaim to Roxy. To which she lets out a loud cheer. Within minutes, we’re both rushing out of the door, screaming when the cold winter air hits our barely covered skin, and laughing out loud when a cab pulls up to pick us up almost immediately.
The cab ride is quick, our apartment not too far from College Town where the bar is. A thrill of excitement rushes through me when the car pulls up to the curb dropping us off at the front doors of Ignite, one of the best dancing clubs in the city. The dark walls, the dim lighting, and the loud music, combined with the wine already in my system have my senses buzzing.
Roxy pushes her way through the crowd at the bar, leaning over it just enough to give the bartender a view he’ll be thinking of the rest of the night. Usually her explicit antics bother me, but tonight I’m on a mission to get drunk and she—or well her tits—j
ust expedited that mission
Pushing a glass of wine into my hand we weave our way through the throngs of people that seem to just keep getting thicker as the night gets later until we finally reach the dance floor.
Closing my eyes, I tip my head back, letting the music take over. The sexy beat of the music syncs with my heart, with my body. My hips sway side to side. I try to turn my brain off. I try to forget everything that happened today, but the harder I try, the more prevalent the memories become.
Rico’s unyielding stare—the way he begged me without words to trust him, to let him in, to give him a chance. His gentle touch on the side of my face, and my ear as he tucked my hair back. The low, smooth voice he used as he promised that I’d be his someday.
Biting my lip, I keep the moan trying to fight its way out inside. That man has no idea what he does to me. Or maybe he does and that’s why he keeps pushing. He keeps getting closer to me. He keeps inching his way inside. And, I’m barely holding on. I’m barely keeping him at arm’s length—no matter how hard I try.
He was right about one thing though. I do want him. I do want to throw it all away just for the chance to be with him. I know it won’t be long before he makes good on his promise. Before he makes me his.
Strong hands land on my hips and momentarily heighten my arousal, my fantasies. I’m pulled into a hard chest, the man’s hips press firmly against my ass and start swaying in time with me and the music.
For just a moment, I do what I’ve wanted to do with Rico since I first laid eyes on him. I throw away some of my inhibitions and just relax, enjoy myself.
Ever since William I’ve had a hard time getting close to men. I’ve worked hard at my cold-hearted bitch act, using it to keep the opposite sex as far away from me as possible. I haven’t been able to stomach the thought of a man touching me, especially intimately. And, I surely haven’t been able to trust a man.
But, Rico has brought out some of those desires again. I’ve opened up to him more than I’ve opened up to anyone in the past year. And, the very last thing I want to do is ward off his attentions, his affections. He’s touched me lightly here and there and every time he does it I crave more. I physically ache for him to touch me more.