Free

Chapter 10

TEN

Nick

I pace the length of Dr. Eddington’s office, the tightness in my chest spreading like a vice grip. Every nerve feels frayed, every muscle coiled. I can’t sit still. The leather couch looks comfortable, inviting even, but the thought of sinking into it feels like admitting defeat.

“I got an email from Kate again yesterday. Sergeant Harper’s wife.” My voice is sharp, louder than I intended. My arms cross instinctively as I glare out the window at the gray skies. The wind hurls palm fronds against the glass in heavy, rhythmic thuds. A storm coming. Feels appropriate.

Dr. Eddington, an older man with wisps of gray hair and steady eyes, sits back in his overstuffed leather chair. The patience etched into his features grates against my frayed nerves. “Did you read it?”

I nod, eyes shutting tightly. “She’s still asking to meet. Still wants to talk about the accident.”

“And you’re still opposed?”

“What do I have to say that she could possibly want to hear?” I ask, my reflection bouncing back at me in the window. I spin to face him, tension coursing through my arms.

“Maybe she’s looking for closure.”

“She should look somewhere else then. She’s not gonna find it with me.” My voice rises. “Sergeant Mark Harper was one hell of a guy. Funny. Kind. The kind of man who’d drop everything to help you. He loved his wife ferociously. I don’t know why I’m here and he’s not. There’s no reason for it. No rhyme. No logic. I take no comfort in the fact that he died and I’m still punching the clock.”

“Maybe hearing you say that is the closure she needs.”

I scoff, stalking to the other side of the room, fists clenching at my sides. The leather squeaks as Dr. Eddington scribbles something on his legal pad, his calm patience a funhouse mirror to my storm. “I don’t even think closure is real. Shit happens. It sucks. You buck up and move on.”

Dr. Eddington nods slightly, not pushing. The lack of resistance disarms me.

“How’s your physical pain?” he asks, his tone shifting to neutral ground.

“It’s fine.”

One bushy brow rises.

“My back hurts. PT is brutal. But I do the work. Doesn’t feel like it’ll ever get better than this. Hence, it’s fine.”

“Have you considered yoga? Some people have found great relief from both physical and emotional pain by developing a daily practice.”

“I’ll consider it.” We both know I won’t.

He makes another note before glancing up. “How’s your sleep? The nightmares?”

“Love them. Five stars. Wish everyone had a chance to experience them.” I drop onto the couch, the cushions huffing their dismay. “Oh, and jumping at loud noises? Freezing up and flashing back to the worst day of my life because a door slams too hard? That’s a blast too.”

Dr. Eddington lowers the pad, sighing as our eyes meet. I cock my head, welcoming the challenge I know is coming. Right now, I’m in the mood for a fight.

“If nothing in your life changes,” he says quietly, “then nothing in your life will change.”

The words land like a sucker punch. They shouldn’t, but they do. My vision tunnels, and for a moment, I’m back in that hospital room, staring at Charlie perched on the edge of a chair, her hands wrapped around mine. Her eyes, warm and full of tears. Her voice, thick with emotion.

“It’s okay to let me take care of you now… I want to. Yes, your life is gonna change, but I’m here… I’m with you… I’ll do whatever it takes… Our lives will change together.”

Shame surges, twisting into anger. I scoff, forcing the memory away, my hands balling into fists, welcoming the rage.

“And nothing changing, that’s bad how?”

“It’s not always a bad thing,” Dr. Eddington says evenly, his hands resting in his lap.

“You do love your word games.” My chest heaves. My fists ache to hit something. My body is charged, primed, ready for action and something in my soul aches, heavy and desperate.

“Not games, Nick. Nuance.”

I exhale sharply, my breath rattling in my chest. The silence between us is heavy, suffocating. I lean forward, perching on the edge of the couch. “Can we just skip the part where you try to make me say what I don’t want to say? I don’t have it in me today.”

“You’re more angry than usual,” Dr. Eddington observes, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Did something happen?”

Charlie.

Charlie happened.

I hang my head, my hands rubbing the back of my neck, but she’s there, waiting. Mascara streaking down her cheeks as she clung to me in my truck. The way her voice cracked when she asked me why I was being kind to her.

“Can’t I just be angry? Isn’t what happened to me last year reason enough?”

“Anger is a secondary emotion.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I rub my face, mimicking his tone. “Anger usually hides the presence of deeper and less comfortable emotions like sadness, guilt, embarrassment, hurt, fear.” My voice drips with sarcasm. “We’ve been here before, man.”

Dr. Eddington doesn’t blink. “Then why are we here again?”

The question takes the wind from my sails. I sit back and scrape a hand over my mouth. I could stay quiet, wait out the clock like I usually do.

“You’re right, Doc. I’ll work on it. I’m fine, you know. Really, I am.”

But Charlie’s words dance through my mind.

You don’t have to stay broken forever.

She hasn’t seen into the darkest recesses of my soul. She doesn’t know the scorched earth of my heart. But the way she looked at me…

…it felt like hope.

Like possibility.

Like maybe…

“I saw Charlie last week.” The words scrape up a tight throat and I run my hand over my hair.

Dr. Eddington’s eyebrow quirks. “How did that happen?”

“At her wedding.”

I didn’t tell him about the wedding invite. I didn’t tell him I was thinking of going. I didn’t want him in my head, dissecting every thought and emotion. I didn’t want to talk about Charlie getting married or how it made me feel. It made me feel shitty and anyone with a brain would get there without me sitting in this damn room, bleeding in front of someone I pay to feel like a friend.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. No I don’t.” I throw an arm over the back of the couch and look away. “Not with you or Angela or Mom or Dad or Uncle Lucas. Charlie didn’t even get married and you know what? That’s fine. I’m fine. She’s fine. Everything is fine.” I spit the word into the conversation and Dr. Eddington cocks his head.

“You went to her wedding and she didn’t get married?”

I find myself explaining the situation.

The panic attack that chased me into the hall. Running into Charlie. The way her husband-to-be treated her. The bullshit her stepmom spouted about every awful thing actually being a blessing in disguise. I tell him about how good it felt to be with Charlie again and the panic attack that finally descended as she talked about returning to Wildrose Landing, leading to my hasty exit so my shit wouldn’t supersede her needs.

“Being with Charlie? It was the first time I felt like myself since the accident. And what a shitty thing, right? Her heart was broken and I felt whole because, what? Because I could step in and help? Because she didn’t get married? Because she didn’t treat me like I’m made of glass like everyone else? Because being with her makes me feel alive?”

“Maybe it was all those things.”

“Yeah. It was all of those things.” I lift my chin. “That’s why I’m angry. Because it was all those things and I still can’t have her and that makes me sad, and I feel guilty and embarrassed because I’m the reason, and it hurts to see what could have been, and I’m afraid this is all there is for me. This… nothingness. This emptiness. This ache in my chest that I cover up with routines and habits and positive thinking and pretending I’m fine when everyone knows I’m not.”

Dr. Eddington nods but stays quiet. Even though I know what he’s doing, I rush ahead to fill the silence.

“But none of that matters. Charlie’s gone. She went home to put her life back together and I’ll never see her again. And before you ask me how that makes me feel, let me just tell you. It’s fine. She’s better off without me and you know it and she knows it and I know it most of all.”