Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Xander
I’m at the table working on the family puzzle when Seven walks in. His face is almost as red as his hair, and his hands flex like he wants to tighten them around my throat.
I smile. “Nice morning?”
“Where the frogging hell were you?”
I adopt the most patronizing tone I can manage. “What’s wrong, Seven? The hour session didn’t magically fix you?”
“You promised me you’d be there.”
That almost makes me laugh. “I promised Molly last week as well. Considering how mad you both were about going to therapy, it’s a touch hypocritical that you’re trying to get me there.”
“Because the appointment wasn’t for us!” He’s almost shouting.
“Maybe it should be.” I eye him. “Any unchecked anger issues you should be working on? ”
“Only with you.” He kicks out a chair and throws himself into it. “We’re not giving up.”
I turn back to the puzzle. “Yippee.”
“I told you I’d be there to support you, and I will. Stop pushing me away.”
“ I’m not the one who locked you out of his room last night.”
He groans. “Dude, we were having sex. Come on.”
If he’d told me that beforehand, I wouldn’t have spent the night in my studio, convinced that everyone wants me out of their life. I’m … exhausted. So tired of being tired. So over being alone. I almost convinced myself to go today. To therapy. Fucking therapy. I was one foot out the door.
Then I remembered the cold eyes, the pointed questions, the call for me to be admitted.
Therapists can’t do a single goddamn thing for anyone. None of them care. None of them are actually invested in people getting better; they’re only in it for the paycheck until it gets too hard.
But what if … no. The scared little boy inside me hoped for too much for too long. He doesn’t get to trick me with that anymore. I talked to more than enough psychologists when I was younger to know that it’s all bullshit. Just a way to check a box on their mental health programs to make it look like they care. So I stopped talking. They assumed I was fine.
Then they tried to take Seven away from me, and I lost all fucking control. A psychologist did that. The pain hasn’t ever gone away. How I’d finally found someone I could trust. Who kept me safe. Who had the same mess living in his soul to what I had in mine. The year we were together, I never let him out of my sight. He welcomed my neediness; he didn’t try to take advantage of it. He was just … there. The first person in my entire life who wanted to be there.
Seven’s mine. And when he turned eighteen and moved into his own place, I wasn’t allowed to see him. Words like “unhealthy” and “suspicious” got thrown around. People I didn’t know asked if he’d taken advantage of me. If we’d had sex. If he’d forced things. The sickness those words infected me with couldn’t be controlled.
I don’t remember when I stopped functioning, but my memories get really hazy after that. I know I ended up on some kind of medication to make me eat and sleep since I refused to do it myself, but even the medication couldn’t get rid of that deep fucking dread. The one that sits in my gut and refuses to shift. That convinces me everything is about to end.
That same dread that’s trying to take over now.
Seven moves closer to kneel beside me and pull me into his arms. “Push me away. I don’t care. I’m not going anywhere.”
“That’s what you think. One day, you and Molly will want to move out. Or have kids. Or travel. Or do generally anything without me.”
“Nope.”
His denial is frustrating. “Might as well come to terms with it now.”
“Come to terms with what?”
I stiffen at Molly’s voice.
Seven rests his head against mine. “This pork chop thinks we’re going to get sick of him.”
“Not possible,” Molly says. “You’re not Seven without Xander.”
“Exactly,” Seven agrees.
And while I know they’re trying to make me feel better, it doesn’t work. “You should see someone about that,” I say flippantly. “Sounds unhealthy.”
Molly leans against the table in front of me, cutting me off from the puzzle. “How was therapy?” The suspicion in his tone makes it obvious he suspects I pulled the same trick on Seven that I did with him .
“It was great,” I lie. “All fixed. Five gold stars.”
“For fuck’s sake, Xander.” Molly points at Seven, whose arms are still around me. “Let him go. He doesn’t deserve hugs right now.”
Seven releases me. “But he was sad.”
“ I’m sad, dammit. You promised.”
Ooohh, I don’t like cranky Molly. Cranky Molly isn’t like cranky Seven.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to Seven.”
I shoot Seven a don’t make me look, and he smirks back, waiting. “Fine. Sorry.”
“I’m even going to pretend to believe you mean that,” Molly says. “Why are you doing this, Z?”
“With zero context, I can only assume you’re talking about the puzzle, and I’m doing it because we all do it.”
“Wrong answer.” Molly gives my hair a sharp tug.
“Hey. Ouch .”
“I have been way too invested in you and Derek since I met him for you to give up now.”
“Do you have a brain bleed? I didn’t give up on anything. He got sick of me, and now I’ll never see him again. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to people walking out on me. Y’know, if you don’t walk out first.”
“If you think you’re not every bit a part of my life as Seven is, maybe you’re the one with a brain bleed.”
Seven groans. “Don’t give him ideas.”
Lack of sleep … zero appetite … “ You know, a brain bleed would explain a lot.”
Molly gives me a flat look. “You don’t have a brain bleed.”
“How would you know?”
“Because you’re still talking. About a lot of bullshit.”
“We’ll see, I guess. At least if I die in my sleep, you won’t have to play dad anymore. ”
“It would save us from conversations like this too. Don’t you want a chance with Derek?”
“I don’t have a chance with Derek.”
“What was the last thing he said to you?”
I ignore Molly’s question, so he turns to Seven instead.
“Well …?”
Seven hesitates before carding his fingers together. “He said he cares about you too much.”
“Exactly.” I roll my eyes. “Too much. Too much is a bad thing. No one wants too much of anything.”
Molly pulls my hair again. “Too much, because he’s not supposed to care at all. It’s against the rules or the law or something.”
We’ve been over this so many times. If he cared—even a little bit, not even too much—he would have been there or reached out. Made sure I’m okay.
“When you think about it, it’s really romantic,” Molly says, his eyes getting all big like they always do when he’s especially sunshiny.
Seven pulls a face. “Doctor and patient. I’m sure I’ve seen horror movies about that before.”
Molly scowls at Seven. “And what did Derek say to you last?”
I throw Seven a suck shit now you’re in trouble look.
“He swore at me.”
Molly waves the answer away. “Before that.”
“Oh, when he thought it would be awesome to tell me to manipulate Z into doing what I want.”
“Exactly.” Molly crosses his arms. “Now would be a good time to do it.”
Excuse me? I swing my attention up to Molly, expecting to find him joking. But that’s his serious face.
“Oh yes,” Molly says. “This is my serious face.”
“I can’t do that,” Seven says .
“Why? Don’t you love him?”
I scowl. “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to manipulate people. Like, that isn’t a good thing.”
“Neither is codependency, but we’re doing that reasonably well if you ask me.” Molly turns to Seven and tilts his head my way. “When you’re ready.”
“But—”
“The three of us need you to do this.”
“ Three ?” Seven scoffs. “I don’t need to push him into it.”
“Not you. Me, Xander, and Derek.”
“Derek?” I echo. “There is no Derek.”
Seven’s face goes blank. “He’s part of this now, huh?”
“I don’t remember a time when he wasn’t,” Molly replies. “I would do it for you, but I don’t think it will be as effective.”
Molly and Seven stare at each other while I wait to see who breaks first. It’s Seven, and I really should have guessed that. He turns to me, and there’s regret on his face.
“Z …”
“It’s not going to work.”
He huffs and turns back to Molly. “See? Pointless.”
“Fine.” I’m surprised by how easily Molly relents. Until he keeps talking. “I guess you don’t want to make me happy.”
“Of course I do, you muppet.”
“Well, I can’t be happy if Xander’s not happy, and he won’t be happy unless he has Derek, and Derek won’t be happy if Z’s not in therapy. Do you see the problem here?”
“You’re relying on far too many people to make you happy instead of finding that inner well of happiness and tranquility?” I throw back.
“You’re starting to sound like Madden.”
“Well, you’re starting to sound like me,” I tell Molly. “And there’s only enough room for one emotionally stunted, chronically needy person in this relationship.”
“Exactly.” Molly gives Seven his pleading eyes. “Help him. ”
Seven lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. Then he does something I never, ever thought he’d do in our entire lives.
“If you don’t go to therapy, you don’t really care about me.”
“What?” I recoil. “Fuck you.”
He shrugs. “Say whatever you want. There’s only one way to prove it. Go or don’t go. That’ll give me my answer.”
“You know I love you.”
“I don’t know that at all.”
I glare from him to Molly and back again. “Well, if you love me, you won’t make me go.”
“I’m not making you do anything.”
He is though. He knows he is. I could easily be an asshole and not go and point this out for the stupid ultimatum that it is. But I know Seven. I know his messy center, and I know that he’s always scraped for love the same way I have.
Seven deserves to know he’s loved.
“I hate you,” I tell him, then turn to Molly. “And I hate you.”
Molly doesn’t back down.
They’re actually fucking serious this time.
Serious about putting me in the most uncomfortable position they ever have. Talking to one of those people, having them mess with my head, trying to take away my personality and the pieces that make me who I am, makes me physically nauseous.
But then I replay Seven’s words. He didn’t actually specify that I had to be involved in the session, just that I had to go.
So fine. I will fucking go. I’ll waste my time and money and sit there silent for an entire hour. Then I’ll prove I love him and never have to go back again.
I hope everyone is happy.
Because I sure as hell won’t be.