“Do you think your little underground empire will last?”
There was so much more to me than the club. But I had no intentions of explaining myself to him, Kalen, or anyone. “Long enough. Make peace with your firstborn. He’s your legacy, not me.”
I strolled out of the room as Dad called after me, but I didn’t turn around. Unable to leave without getting Dad’s status, I sought after the attending physician. I was relieved to learn they would release him in the next few days, if all went well. He’d had a minor heart attack and the doctor thought he’d fully recover but wanted to monitor him. I would hopefully be done playing King by next week. That day couldn’t come soon enough.
My next stop would prove even more interesting.
In the therapist’s office, I sat in a high-backed chair across from a formidable woman who wore an open expression meant to be inviting.
“It’s been a while,” she said, tipping her glasses down. “What brings you to my office?”
I felt like a boy about to give a confession to a priest and I wasn’t Catholic. “I’ve come to a crossroads.”
“How so?” she asked, as it was her job to listen more than speak.
“I’ve met someone.”
She gave only the briefest hint of interest. “This is significant, how?”
“I’ve found myself drawn to her more than any other woman before.” I watched her face for any tells.
“Do you think this is wise, given your past?”
“I thought your purpose was to help me get past that.”
“It is. But we haven’t spoken in a while. Does this woman have any idea about your—”
“Needs,” I supplied.
“Yes,” she said, happy with my choice of words.
“She’s performed beautifully so far.”
Her lips pursed. “Well, it appears you have it all under control. Why see me?”
“I’m still not sleeping.”
“The prescription isn’t working?”
I didn’t take the sleeping aid unless absolutely necessary. I chose to keep my answer simple. “No.”
She sat straighter. “I can prescribe something stronger.”
“No.”
“What do you want?” she asked.
To be normal, if that was possible.
“It’s been ten years,” I said. “How long does PTSD last?”
“That’s really up to you. Do you still suffer nightmares?”
I hated to admit it, but I nodded.
“It takes time. Regular therapy can help. Something you’ve stopped,” she said.
“Can you recommend someone?”
Her eyes widened. I knew I’d caught her off guard. “If you no longer deem my help as good for you, I have a few colleagues I can refer you too.”
“Yes, I’d appreciate that.”
“What was this?” she said with a little wave. “I feel like you’re breaking up with me.”
This was the first in a long line of steps to get rid of things and people who weren’t working in my life.
“It’s been years and nothing’s changed. I thought it important to have closure, as you’ve suggested on a number of occasions.”
“I haven’t helped you?” she asked, now on the defensive. It was probably less than professional on her part, but I’d blindsided her.
“You have to a point. I appreciate everything you’ve done. But we’ve hit a wall I haven’t broken through.”
“Is this her suggestion?”
Her. She had to be referring to the woman I began this conversation about.
“No. But she is the catalyst. She’s made me see that trying new things isn’t bad. I can be different without compromising who I am.”
She huffed and my brow rose. “I’m happy for you.” Though she sounded less than pleased. As I got up to leave, she added, “One last piece of advice.”
I hovered there without standing or sitting back down.
“She may not hang around when she finds out who you really are.”
I chuckled as I got to my feet. Professionalism had fled the building. “Who am I? Do you even know?”
I didn’t wait for an answer. This woman, who’d been a savior when I needed it, had turned bitter now that I didn’t need her anymore. Our doctor-patient relationship had evolved over time, but now I saw it for what it was. Toxic. She wanted to control me. I was no longer a vulnerable boy looking for absolution. I would excise my demons somehow, but not with her guidance.
My next stop was the first step in a plan to lay claim to what was mine. Lizzy.TwentyLizzyMy morning was a mix of emotions. I was disappointed to wake alone again. Striker hadn’t stayed—not that I’d expected him to. But I was forced to face the truth, at least to myself. With fresh eyes, I reevaluated my relationship with Hans and what I missed from it. Intimacy. Could I have that with Striker, or anyone, despite my past?
Still I couldn’t keep a smile off my face. Last night with Striker had been amazing, and I had no regrets. There had been plenty of orgasms, but what happened after had truly struck me. There had been tenderness when Striker removed my bonds and carried me to another room. He’d probably assumed I was asleep, but I had been in some space between awake and there. I had the vaguest of memories of him driving me home and putting me to bed. For a guy who seemed as relationship-phobic as I was, he’d cared for me in a way a boyfriend would have.