Because He's Perfect

by Anna Edwards

  I know then I am in too deep.

  I need him more than he will ever realize, and I know that he needs me. Maybe it sounds strange, us not knowing each other long, but sometimes, you just meet someone you just know you're going to feel something for, for a long, long time. Maybe even forever.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kace

  The first girl I ever loved broke my heart. She said I fidgeted too much and never concentrated on anything remotely interesting. I was fifteen. She was my first girlfriend, my first love, and my first heartbreak. She complained that I never looked her in the eye and had no clue how to be a boyfriend. After, she went around telling people I was weird, that I’d fallen on my head as a baby, and something wasn’t quite the same in my head after.

  It made me so angry I started telling people we'd fucked. It was a dirty lie, but I had a pair of her undies I'd stolen when we were studying one day. She could not fight against the truth. Through high school, I had a few girlfriends, nothing serious. I was a virgin until senior prom, and the girl who slept with me had a reputation.

  The longest I've dated a woman as I got older was a year. They never stick around, unable to handle my lack of focus and disorganization. Most girls want the world. All I have to offer is a flat to shag in and a meal out now and then. I don't know how to stay focused on them long enough to make it last.

  But the fact that I spent an hour staring at Kenzie's face as she sleeps tells me that this is no one-night stand. We made love all night and eventually fell asleep spent. I can see myself doing this for the rest of my life, but I might be getting ahead of myself.

  The thing about Kenzie is that she's like nobody I know. She doesn't care about the dumb shit other women do. She's confident and down to earth, and I want more of her.

  Then and there, I decide I want to see Dr. Willis again.

  I’m a broken mess. Flawed. I’ll never be what she needs, but damn, do I want to.

  I slowly shift out of bed, making sure not to wake her.

  I step into her kitchen, rummaging around until I make us two cups of coffee. When I walk back in the room, she stirs as soon as I place the coffee on her bedside table. She opens those pretty blue eyes and grins at me, covering her face with her pillow.

  “I look like shit,” she groans.

  "You look amazing," I say, pulling the pillow from her face, her hair in disarray, her face flushed as she bites her bottom lip nervously. She has never looked as beautiful.

  “Coffee?”

  “You have a way with women, don’t you?”

  “I try,” I smirk, leaning down and kissing her forehead before I hand her the coffee.

  "Kace, good to see you again." Dr. Willis smiles at me cheerfully as he opens the door. "I must say, I was surprised to hear from you."

  “Yeah, I should apologize for that. I’m not really used to this kind of thing.” I shrug.

  "None of us are. It takes a lot to open up to a practical stranger about the things that matter most to us," he assures me as he leads me into his office.

  It's been three weeks since the last time I saw him. He was away, so I had to wait a couple of days to see him.

  “Please, grab a seat. Anything to drink?”

  “Just some water. Thanks.” I shift in my seat.

  He hands me a glass and sits down opposite me. “So how have you been?”

  I think about this. How do I feel? "Oddly better than," I respond, surprising us both.

  “I’m glad to hear that, can you pinpoint a reason for that? A change in routine perhaps?” He notes something down whch surprisingly doesn’t annoy me.

  “You could say that.” I offered a small smile.

  “I am so glad you decided to give this another try.”

  “I am too. But if I’m honest, you could say it has something to do with a woman I met.”

  His interest piques. “Tell me more.”

  Here I am, talking to a stranger, a professional. I take in a deep breath.

  "She's different. She doesn't demand shit I can't deliver. I mean, it's early days and all, but I just have a feeling she's . . . I don't know . . ." I feel frustrated. What the hell am I trying to say? That she's the one? I know how messed up that sounds.

  “She just gets me, you know? She gets me. Kace. I don’t have to lie to her about a job I don’t have, and most of all, I don’t want to. I let her in. What the hell is even wrong with me, Doctor Willis?”

  "Just Bradley will do," he says kindly. "And there is nothing wrong with you, for one, not for feeling the way you do."

  "I just feel so anxious. I have these episodes where I feel like I can't breathe, like I'm too overwhelmed to do anything but stay in my apartment. What if she gets tired of me? What if she needs me, and I can't be what she needs?"

  He nods and makes a note in his book. "You completed the assessment I sent you a few days ago, and I must say, I was glad you returned it. I had a bit of time to go through it."

  I look at him in anticipation. Maybe I’ll finally have the answers I’ve been looking for, for years.

  “Kace, I was sorry to hear about your mother; and I can understand why you initially weren’t comfortable talking about it.”

  I nod. When I read the questionnaire, I initially felt like it would strip me bare, but the more I answered, the better it felt to say it, after all this time. I guess talking to Kenzie about it really did help.

  "Was there anything that sticks out for you about your mother?"

  I sigh. "My mother was sad for a long time, withdrawn almost. She'd been diagnosed with depression and anxiety. I didn't know what caused it, but one day, she was my mother, and the next, she wasn't. It's like the darkness consumed her."

  He considers this. "The mind is deeply complex. Sometimes, what can be seen as simply depression or anxiety has far-reaching consequences. Sometimes, it's so much deeper. Sometimes, it's the inability to shut your mind off from playing and replaying the things that once hurt you, or the inability to shake off intrusive negative and harmful thoughts that consume you. Maybe it's continually telling yourself that you're not good enough, that you're an awful person."

  I hate to admit it, but it sounds a lot like me. I just hate putting a title to what I've been feeling my whole life. He can diagnose all he wants, but until he's lived it, would he truly understand what I am living with? What plagues me every single day?

  "My son has ADHD and OCD. He's had it for most of his life, and at first, it angered me that I'd studied long and hard about the mind and nothing I ever did could help him."

  “I read some of the material you sent me.” Hearing him speak of his son makes me see this situation differently.

  “It took several years to get my boy to a place where he could accept and live with his illness; and it is an illness, like any other which can be treated.”

  “What happened with him?”

  “He’s just graduated law school,” he says with pride. “I’ve considered all you’ve said to me, and I have to believe you have one or both those conditions.” He looks at me intently, wanting to gauge my reaction. I have none.

  I shake my head. “So, what do I do?”

  “You’ve already started doing something by coming to see me again, and by acknowledging there is something to be done,” he reassures me. I wish I was as optimistic as he is.

  "For one, I'd like to start you on a shallow dose of medication. A non-stimulant, so apart from the normal side effects of starting a new medication, you shouldn't have anything to worry about."

  “Medication? I don’t need pills. Isn’t there any other way?”

  "We can try some cognitive behavior therapy, cognitive breathing, and see how that goes. I know these are new terms but I’ll be working with you thoughout this. I'll need to see you more regularly, work through certain techniques that might be useful to you. But the medication is a must. Just give it a try, and if it really does bother you, we can look at it again."

  I run my fingers through m
y hair, a nervous habit that helps calm my nerves.

  “And we’re going to need a list of areas you need to work on. We’ll prioritize them and work on them individually,” he continues.

  “This sounds like a hell of a lot of work.” I shake my head, sitting forward in my seat.

  “I’m not going to lie to you. It is hard work, but most things in life are. This isn’t something you can cure. Nine times out of ten, you’re going to need ongoing treatment. But if you’re committed, I have no doubt we can manage this.”

  We chat more about the condition, and I become more convinced that he's right, that I have OCD, a chemical imbalance in my brain, and ADHD too. It frustrates me. It sounds farfetched, an excuse for my slacking, an excuse for the fact that I'm not successful. I bet that's what my asshole father would say.

  I climb into my car and sit staring at the building in front of me. After a while, I lay my head against the headrest. I'm such an idiot. What makes me think I can have a normal life? Kenzie doesn't need this kind of complication in her life. I have to sort this shit out on my own and not drag anyone into my chaos. The way I did Jax. Dr. Willis shared some options. I’m not sure I’m ready for any of them. But I feel on edge. I want to rid myself of this gnawing feeling of inadequacy.

  I pull out my phone, and there are ten missed calls from Jax. My brother will likely be in my apartment when I get home. We've not talked since the day I left his house, and he has tried to contact me every single day. He's been at my apartment too, and I haven't let him in. He'll find a way to contact me soon.

  I should go speak to Kenzie. Hopefully, Jax will leave after realizing I am not coming home. I'm in no mood to talk about what happened. The way I see it, he wants to make amends with the old man, and I don't think I can ever forgive that. I will always love my brother, but that doesn't mean I will allow myself to be anywhere near that bastard father of ours. Not even for Jax.

  The rain pelts against my window, and I snuggle deeper into the blankets. I can hear the shouting downstairs. Jax hasn’t stirred, not even when the door slams. I wonder if the sound of the rain blurs out the madness below us. My mother’s voice cannot be heard. She never speaks, she never retaliates, no matter what he says or does. She just sits there or cowers beneath him. She never sobs either. I wonder whether she is still there, behind those blank eyes.

  Our father is nothing but a lying, cheating scumbag.

  The shouting stops, and I hear the sound of his heavy footsteps as he takes the stairs and drags himself into the bathroom, which is located just opposite our room. I hear a thud, and the door closes. I cover my head with a blanket and find myself drifting off.

  The next time I open my eyes, it’s to the shrill of my brother's screams. I jump out of bed and dash out the open door. Jax continues to scream, and I take the stairs two at a time, following the sound of his scared voice downstairs.

  And that is when I see her feet dangling. I look up, and she is suspended from the ceiling, a rope around her slender neck. Her pale skin now a bluish purple, her hair hanging in clumps, dried blood on her cheeks from where he must have slapped her. She has on a thin nightdress and the scars on her hands are visible.

  "Mama," I howl as I run forward and reach out for her legs, but not before Jax grips me by the shoulders, pulling me back.

  "No, Kace, not like that," he weeps in my ear, and I struggle to get free.

  “What’s the commotion about?” I hear my father descend the stairs, and I spin my head around to find him staring at the scene in front of him.

  “A pity. I expected her to get it over with a long time ago.” He shakes his head.

  "You bastard!" I yell and lunge at him, hitting him square in the jaw. I pound his face until Jax pulls me away and drags me upstairs. "He is not worth it, Kace."

  I lie on my bed, the tears streaming down my face.

  “Suicide,” the officer on duty said, even after I told him how my father reacted.

  “Suicide,” I heard that monster tell everyone as he made the necessary calls.

  “Suicide,” the women whispered at her funeral. But they never knew the truth.

  That monster had killed her spirit years before. Her body just followed.

  Chapter Twelve

  Kenzie

  I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. I never thought I'd feel like this about someone, and this quickly. Kace. He makes me happy, and I want to know all there is to know about him. Fate brought us together, from all our chance meetings to this. My cheeks redden at the thought of his lips on my skin, the way he holds me like he never wants to let me go.

  A knock on the door pulls me away from my thoughts. When the second knock sounds, my heart rate quickens. My impatient man. I open the door, and he stares down at me, his eyes ablaze, his breathing ragged.

  My face falls. “Are you okay?”

  Without a word he steps forward, his arms curling around me as he crashes his lips to mine in a kiss that conveys his pent-up need.

  I lace my hands through his hair as he lifts me in his arms and walks into the apartment. I reach behind him, just able to grab the door and shut it.

  No more words pass between us because none are needed. We are hunger and desperation. We pull at each other's clothes until we're standing naked in my hallway. His eyes rake over my body hungrily. He steps closer to me and lifts me by the waist as I wrap my legs around his hips, my heels digging into his ass.

  He slams me against the wall, which makes me flinch from the cold, but I don't mind as he claims my lips in a desperate kiss, our tongues caressing and moans falling from our mouths. The television plays softly in the background. I dig my nails into his back one moment and then grip his hair in the next.

  "So eager," he hisses as he thrusts into me, each movement making me arch my back, getting closer to him. He wraps his hands around my head to stop it from slamming into the wall. I feel my orgasm building, and after a few more thrusts, I feel myself tipping over the edge, with him following me a few seconds later, calling my name into the crook of my neck.

  He lifts his eyes to mine, and they are pained. I take his face in my hands and start to kiss his face all over. He smiles at me sadly, then places a soft kiss on my lips.

  "You're too good for me," he whispers.

  "No. You're perfect for me." He captures my mouth again as he walks us into my bedroom, my legs aching but my heart full of this man I will never get enough of. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but the last thing I want to do is push him away.

  I watch him sleep, running my fingers through his hair. I smile down at him and wonder what goes through his mind at times. I have never met a guy like Kace. He is so complicated, his moods are all over the place, but I know where I stand with him. He seemed genuinely interested in my work and impressed that I started my own business. I just wish he would trust me with more of his life. I barely know anything about him, except that he has a brother and an estranged father, and that his mother died when he was young. But I don't know what makes Kace him. He writes for the paper and delivers pizza. Somehow, I feel like I am missing something. He never wants to meet at his house. I will have to change that in the morning. For now, I snuggle deeper into the covers and adjust myself so he wraps an arm around my middle as I fall asleep.

  I wake up to the sound of my alarm and an empty bed. I reached for my phone and see a text from Kace.

  Had to run, have an early start this morning. You look beautiful when you sleep. Xo

  I sigh, hoping that everything is okay with us. I roll out of bed, ready to face another day at the shop. Maybe I should call Tiffany. I just feel like something’s off with him. The way he looked last night, so shattered and tortured, it broke something in me. But he doesn’t seem like the kind to confide in his brother, least of all after the disastrous engagement party.

  I have to be patient. I text back that I hope to see him later. I want to say so much more. That I miss him and wish he’d been here when I woke up. That I am here if
he needs me.

  I just don’t want to overstep. We are far from official yet.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Layla asks.

  “Just a lot on my mind. Nothing important.” I shrug.

  "Is that why you've been distracted all day? Girl, you have never messed up acrylic, but that woman would have left here a hot mess if it I hadn't snapped you out of it."

  I cringe at the recollection. I really have been distracted today. Kace hasn't called or texted me all day, and it’s closing time. He hasn't told me we're dating. I've said nothing about it either, but we've had sex enough times to deny something's happening.

  I let out a breath. “I’m seeing someone.” She grins, pulling over a chair.

  "You sneaky bitch. Will's barely yesterday's news, and you're fucking someone already. Tell all. Is he hot?"

  “Layla, oh my god, it’s not like that. It was and is so damn complicated with Kace.” I let out a sigh.

  “His name alone has me all hot and bothered.”

  I frown.

  “Fine, fine, you have my ear.”

  “We ran into each other, while Will and I were still together.”

  She cocks an eyebrow, and I swat her thigh. “Not like that. Anyway, we started seeing each other shortly after I ended things with Will. The thing is, I'm not sure what we are, to be honest. He is moody and temperamental and secretive, but I'm falling for him. Hard."

  “You have got it bad.” She covers her mouth. “I need to meet this man.”

  “Can you be serious?” I scold her.

  “Look, babe, the only way you’re going to know where you stand with this guy is to bite the bullet. If you’re already this into him, where is the harm in telling him?”

  “Uhm . . . He could think I’m an idiot, falling for him so fast.”

  “Some people are together for years and never feel what you’re feeling right now. Who's to say when or how quickly people should fall in love?”