Brother’s Best Friend

by Kaylee, Katy

  Rafe not only showed up, but he seemed open to the meeting. He gave me a smile but otherwise didn’t talk to me. It bugged me a little bit, but perhaps he took my talk about being professional to heart. Or maybe he was still annoyed at me for being a witness to his panic attack yesterday.

  The group went as usual. Simon, a Vietnam vet was having difficulty coping with his wife’s death from cancer several months back. “She always anticipated issues for me. I find I just want to stay home and hide from it all again.”

  The other members nodded their understanding, and a few offered to help with his needs like going grocery shopping with him.

  Rafe didn’t share anything except his introduction. His background as a dog handler in the Marines MP seemed to interest many of them, but Rafe’s change in demeanor, when asked about his dog, suggested that was a difficult subject. Since it was his first group, no one, including me, pushed too hard.

  After the group, I told Rafe to meet me at my office. I had to make a quick pitstop and refill my coffee. He was waiting outside my door when I arrived back.

  “So, what did you think of the group?” I asked as I opened my door and let him in.

  He shrugged. “Seems like a good group of people.”

  I motioned for him to sit on the couch as I shut the door. “They all face similar challenges as you. Like Gavin does.”

  “They just hide it better than me?”

  I sat on the chair across from him. “No. Not necessarily. They still have moments, like you did yesterday, but they have fewer of them. They can also anticipate them and better avoid them.”

  “So how does this work?” He crossed his ankle over his knee.

  “How about we start with what happened yesterday.”

  “What do you want to know?” He asked nonchalantly, but I could see the annoyance in his eyes.

  “What triggered your anxiety?”

  “Lester Smalls getting in my face.”

  I nodded. Truth be told, Lester Smalls would make me anxious too.

  “I hate all that ‘let me buy you a drink to thank you for your service’ bullshit. But most people don’t try to force me to have a drink with them.”

  “Because everyone should know you don’t drink?” Despite his being gone for so long, most people who’d been in Hope while we grew up knew Rafe stayed away from booze and drugs after seeing what it did to his parents.

  “Because it’s rude,” he snapped.

  “You know Lester and how he is. Why did he get to you this time?”

  Rafe shrugged, and I could see the tension building as his jaw tightened.

  Maybe we’d get back to that later. “The dive into the river, is that your normal way to cope?”

  “That or going for a run. Something physical.”

  I nodded. “And it works?”

  “Yes.”

  “What if I hadn’t been there yesterday, what would have happened?”

  He frowned. “I don’t know.”

  “Would you have still been able to leave and dive in the river?”

  “Probably. Gavin would have gotten me out.”

  “What if he didn’t?”

  “I don’t know.” The tension in his voice ramped up.

  I studied him. “Have you ever not been able to get out, to go for your swim or exercise?”

  He inhaled a breath. “Once, a while ago. I’m not really interested in talking about it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m a man who doesn’t like to air his weaknesses.” He stood and began to pace.

  “Do you get violent?”

  He whirled on me. “You think I’m a violent man?”

  I tried to keep my voice and facial expression neutral, but I hated myself for pushing him, even though I knew he needed it. “You’re big and strong, and trained for violence.”

  He scoffed. “If only I was.” Then it was as if all the air had gone out of him and he sat on the couch again. “No. I don’t get violent. I become a big pussy.”

  A man like Rafe probably perceived that as being worse.

  “Men often have a skewed view of weakness. Especially military men.”

  He shrugged.

  I let him sit for a moment before continuing on. “Is that why you were angry with me yesterday? Because I saw you in a weak moment?”

  His dark eyes were piercing as they looked at me. “Yes. That was one reason.”

  “What was the other?”

  He laughed derisively, turning his head away and using the hand he’d stretched out over the back of the couch to poke at something in the seam.

  “You don’t want to tell me?”

  He went back to acting nonchalant. “You said we have to keep this professional.”

  “What you thought was unprofessional or telling me would be unprofessional?”

  There was a quick grin as if he’d thought of something amusing. “I didn’t like it that you let someone else fuck you and give you a child.”

  Irritation flared, but I worked to keep my neutral tone. “I see. Even though that’s what your letter told me to do?”

  “It’s fucked up, I know, but there it is.”

  “What’s funny about that?” I referred back to his smile earlier.

  “There’s nothing funny about it.”

  “So, why did you smile when I asked you about it?”

  He smiled again. “You asked if what I was thinking was unprofessional, and it made me think of something else I thought about that definitely was unprofessional.”

  There was a wicked gleam in his eyes that told me exactly what he’d been thinking. I was usually on my game when I was counseling, but having a history with Rafe was causing me problems. Should I ask him what his thought was? I wanted to know. My pussy had contracted at the thought of it, clearly, it wanted to know too. But his sexual thoughts didn’t have any bearing on his counseling. Did it?

  I decided to move on. “So, what did you do after I left?”

  “Gavin showed up. We talked and fished. Then he left. I masturbated, and then went to sleep.”

  I’d been counseling long enough to know when a client wanted to get a rise out of me. And while my blood did heat at the idea of Rafe stroking his long cock, I did a brilliant job of hiding it, unless the heat in my cheeks gave me away.

  “Is that what you normally do after you’ve had an episode?”

  “Fish?” His lips twitched up slightly, as he continued to try to get a response from me.

  “Any of it.”

  At first, his expression was smug, but then it morphed into seriousness. “Fishing, sometimes. Jacking off, no. That was the first time I’ve come in a long time.”

  It was perverse that I liked that news. It told me he hadn’t been with another woman in a while at least. Or if he had, he didn’t come. This, actually, was sort of sad. It told me he’d been alone without any intimacy, physically or emotionally. But the jealous woman in me liked it. God, counseling him was so wrong.

  “Why is that?” I was a glutton for punishment. How could I be talking to Rafe about masturbation? Because a lack of sexual drive is a symptom of depression, my brain reminded me. If he was sexually aroused, perhaps he was improving psychologically.

  “No interest, I guess.”

  “But yesterday you had interest?”

  He looked at me with that same expression he had before about whether or not he would be crossing the professional line. “I remembered us five years ago.”

  At least he wasn’t vulgar about it.

  “And that got you excited?”

  He laughed. “Fuck, Summer. How are you able to refer to sex in such an emotionless way? Do they teach that in counseling school?” He leaned forward. “Are you going to ask me what I thought of?”

  The answer should have been no because the images he used to get off didn’t matter to his psychological health. Or maybe they did, but it didn’t seem appropriate to ask since my interest wasn’t professional.

  But of c
ourse, I didn’t go with what my answer should have been. Looking at him with the same intensity and hoping he’d realize he couldn’t intimidate me, I said, “What did you think about?”

  His brows shot up to his hairline. Score one for Summer for surprising him.

  But then he leaned forward. “I thought about how tight you were when I took your virginity.”

  I swallowed, trying to remain disinterested, even as my pussy started to get wet.

  “I thought about how great it was and how much cum I pumped into you. Do you remember, Summer? It was leaking out of your sweet pussy.”

  Holy shit, I was going to spontaneously combust.

  He stood and walked over to me. He put his hands on the arms of my chair and leaned closer to me until our faces were millimeters apart. “I remembered you putting those sweet sexy lips around my cock and sucking me.”

  Then he put his filthy, dirty-speaking lips on mine, and I couldn’t stop the moan that came from tasting him again. My body ignited inside as his lips consumed mine, first hard and desperate, and then he slid his tongue in, and everything slowed down into a long languid kiss. When he finally pulled away, there was no hiding his effect on me.

  “I remembered that you were the one shining light in my life, sweet Summer.”

  He held my gaze for eternity as I processed the change in him. He’d used the vulgar to start with, but he ended by revealing a piece of himself. Our time together five years ago had meant something to him. It still meant something to him.

  I pressed my hand to his cheek, wishing I could be his sweet Summer again.

  “I understand you have to be professional when we’re in here…which…I realize now I crossed the line again, but if I promise to behave, can we be more…personal?...when we’re not in here?”

  I really wanted to say yes, but social work ethics were clear. “I’m sorry, Rafe. We can’t.”

  He studied me, looking in my eyes, perhaps to see if I meant it. Then he pushed away.

  “This counseling isn’t helping.” He went over and sat on the couch. “Not if it requires that I have to stay away from something that makes me happy.”

  My heart did a little dance that I made him happy. “Sometimes it’s hard. But it can help you. And while it’s a good sign that your sexual drive is kicking up again, you should focus on your mental health right now. Not on getting laid.”

  “Getting laid can be good for mental health.”

  “You need to focus on dealing with your anxiety. Unless you want medication to help—”

  “If I took meds, could I quit counseling and see you personally?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “You can’t quit counseling. But medication can—”

  “No.”

  “Then your focus should be on the counseling and the group first.”

  He looked like a sullen child. “Can I still masturbate?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Sure.”

  6

  Rafe

  It’s interesting how I was stronger in my ability to stay away from Summer when I was a 22-year-old horny guy that I was five years ago or now, as a trained and disciplined Marine. Of course, now I knew what I was missing. I knew how Summer’s sweetness could soothe my soul. I knew how her body could rock my world.

  This no-touch policy was driving me crazy. It didn’t seem right that the one thing that could help me was the one thing I couldn’t have.

  I wanted to make her happy. If I had any chance with her, I’d have to get my mental shit together, and clearly, that meant counseling. Initially, I’d thought that she was the only one I’d feel safe enough to share my inner demons with, but now I wasn’t sure. Not that I didn’t want her to know me, but if she knew what I’d seen, what darkness rattled around in my head, maybe she would be repulsed by me. Plus, being my counselor meant I couldn’t touch or kiss her, and good God, I wanted to kiss her. That little taste in her office was divine. I felt like a man dying of thirst having his first drink. She was warm and sweet, and I would have been happy to spend the entire session just kissing her. And because of that, I made a decision.

  This might be a bad idea, was what I thought as I walked up the front walk of Summer’s townhome later that evening. She had a child to raise, and for all I knew, perhaps another man in her life. If that was the case, I had to know.

  The townhome community was well-kept and filled with signs of young families, such as minivans, and kids’ bikes. Summer’s unit appeared to be a two-story with a pretty little flower pot with a range of colorful flowers on the front stoop.

  I knocked on the door and waited.

  “Rafe?” Summer said when she opened the door.

  “Hey. Am I interrupting?”

  “No, but…this isn’t—”

  “I know it’s against the rules, but I wanted to talk to you about that. Do you have time?”

  She seemed to think for a moment and then opened the door wider to let me in. Yeah! I made it through the first challenge.

  “Where’s your kid?” I scanned her place. Like the outside, it was clean and colorful. There were signs of her child; coloring books on a coffee table, and a box of dolls in the corner.

  “Emma is at a sleepover tonight. I was just going to have some wine and macaroni and cheese.”

  I smiled. “Still living the high life, I see.”

  “Can I get you something? I have water, milk, and juice.”

  I shook my head. “I wanted to ask about this counseling thing.”

  “Okay.”

  She stood just outside her kitchen area, while I was in the middle of the living room. She didn’t offer for me to sit, so I took a breath to give me the strength to muddle through what I needed to know. “The rule is that because you’re my counselor, we can’t spend time together personally, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So, if you weren’t my counselor—”

  “You should have counseling, Rafe.”

  “I know.” I held up my hand asking her to let me finish. “But it doesn’t have to be you, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So, if I had another counselor—”

  “You’d need to be in a different group too.”

  “Different group too,” I repeated, wishing she’d just let me get this out. “Then there’d be no reason why my being here would be inappropriate.”

  She nodded.

  I took another deep breath because this was where the hard part came. “If that were the case, that I had my counseling and group from someone else, would you want to see me personally?”

  Normally, I was a man filled with confidence and bravado, but for some reason, I was nervous as hell. Perhaps it was because Summer seemed essential to me, which was strange because I’d been gone from her for five years and had only seen her a few times since getting back. But there was no denying her pull on me was still there and still strong. So, I held my breath as I waited for her to answer.

  If I wasn’t mistaken, her expression appeared a little nervous too. I couldn’t figure out what for unless she didn’t think I was mentally healthy enough.

  “Yes,” she finally said.

  I blew out the breath I’d been holding. The tension in my body lessened, but I still wasn’t done.

  “Good. So, first, you’re fired as my counselor.”

  One blonde brow quirked up at my statement.

  “And second, you need to write down the name of a counselor I can call on Monday. And a group,” I said remembering that part.

  “Okay.” She stood there and studied me a moment.

  I stepped closer to her. “When you write it down, I’ll put it in my pocket, and then I’m going to kiss you.”

  Her breath hitched.

  “So, as soon as you give me that name, the sooner the kissing can begin.” Jesus, it was hard not to just grab her and kiss her right there. But I needed her to know that I understood and respected the rules. Until I had the name of a new counselor, she was hands-off.

&nb
sp; She had that wide-eyed expression of a deer with the eyes caught in the headlights, but then snapped out of it. “Right.” She turned and went into the kitchen. I followed her and watched as she pulled out a pen from a cup that looked like it had been decorated by a kid. She wrote on a piece of paper from a pad by her phone and then handed it to me.

  I didn’t bother to check the name. I just folded the paper and put it in my pocket.

  “Gavin is in his group,” she said. “He seems to—”

  I stopped further conversation by wrapping my arm around her and tugging her close. “It’s time for the kissing.”

  She nodded.

  Thank fuck. My lips swooped down and took hers, full and firm. A flood of endorphins crashed through my body as her kiss ignited every neuron in me. This is why I needed her. Because she made me feel good. Because I was alive when I was touching and tasting her.

  She moaned against my mouth and opened for me. I slid my tongue between her sweet lips to dance with her tongue. Jesus, how had I been able to walk away from this five years ago?

  “Summer.”

  “Yes.” Her fingers gripped my t-shirt as if she wanted to make sure I didn’t leave her. As if I would.

  “I want to touch you. I need to touch you.” It was probably too much too fast to expect to get naked and pound away the insatiable need I had for her, but, by God, I’d ask.

  She responded by sliding her hands under my shirt and gripping my pecs, before pushing my shirt over my head.

  Hallelujah.

  “Where’s your bedroom?” I responded in kind, tugging her shirt over her head and then admiring her magnificent tits in a plain white bra.

  She blushed. “If I’d known this was going to happen, I’d have worn something prettier.”

  I cradled her face in my hands and looked into her gorgeous hazel eyes. “You’re so beautiful, Summer.”

  She smiled, and it was like a gift, making my heart expand in my chest.

  “Now, where’s the bedroom?” I reached around her and undid the clasp of her bra. Pulling it off, and tossing it aside, I was momentarily mesmerized by her tits. God, I’d missed these beauties.

  “Upstairs.”

  “Shit, that’s too far.” I nudged her back until she hit the side of her kitchen table. My hands cupped her tits, and unable to wait any longer, I wrapped my mouth around one nipple and sucked.