Not Catching Love (Accidental Love #5)

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

Xander

Dr. Sherwin isn’t totally terrible. I could even argue that he’s semi-okay, and I don’t dread having to see him as often as I do. It’s not fun, I test him and push him all the time, and he hasn’t fixed me or given me some magical cure, but I’ve got coping strategies in place that I sometimes remember to use.

Having to face that I was willingly being a burden to the people I love most was the hardest part of our sessions, and while being my abrasive shithead self fits like a well-worn pair of jeans, I loosened my hold on it. I try not to make lashing out my default.

But I’m also careful about not losing who I am. Some might call this progress, but it’s exhausting and has me frayed down to the bone some days.

Dr. Sherwin is also getting me to see that asking for help from people is okay, but needing it the way I do isn’t healthy and will only hurt me in the long run .

He can pry Seven and Molly out of my cold, dead fingers, but I’m trying to apply more healthy boundaries with everyone else in my life.

Which, unfortunately, includes Derek. If it was up to me, he’d be on Seven’s level, and we’d be equally obsessed with each other. Even with my boundaries in place, I don’t think that will ever change, but Sherwin has me working on empathy and seeing things from other people’s perspectives. I guess, for normal people, I can understand how being the focus of someone else’s obsession could be uncomfortable.

Sounds like heaven to me though.

And all that work with Sherwin is proving a success with facing Derek today.

I don’t push my luck by trying to dance with him in his class. The residents are all too busy wanting to hear about his travels anyway, and being in the same room with Derek after him being gone for months is doing things to me that I’m not prepared for.

He’s a lot more tanned than he was when he left, his face is scruffier, his hair is longer, and he’s somehow the same Derek I knew, but not. The unkempt look suits him.

“Our boy’s back,” Carla says. “Where’s my five dollars?”

I hand over the bill, not able to look away. “Is he hotter, do you think?”

“Oh, yes,” she says. “Derek’s seen some things. You can tell by his eyes.”

“Really?” I squint, tilting my head and trying to see if I can pick anything different.

“Of course not. I’m messing with you.”

“Gee. Thanks. Very helpful.”

“You should dance with him again. Want me to make it happen?”

Of course I do, but I’m all mature and well-adjusted now. At least, I pretend to be. So I shake my head instead. “I’m good. You go dance.”

Derek and I don’t interact much, but once class wraps up, he approaches. I know it’s impossible, but I swear he’s gotten taller too. My toes scraped the ground when I hugged him.

“Ready to go?” he asks, and relief surges through me. I’d been prepared for him to make up an excuse and change his mind.

“Yeah. Can I grab a lift? I told Seven not to pick me up.”

“Of course.” We head for the reception desk to drop off our badges. “You don’t drive?”

“Nope.”

One side of his lips hitches up. “Any reason?”

“Scared of getting into a massive accident and having my brain leak out onto the pavement.”

“Of course.”

“I want to die in a pretty way, you know. It’s more tragic.”

I make him laugh, and it feels amazing. “That’s complete bullshit, Xander.”

“Excuse me, I’m trying to have standards . Sherwin says it’s important.”

“And this is the thing you’ve decided to have standards for, is it?”

It’s as good a place as any to start. We don’t know when we’re going to bite the dust, so fuck it. When I go out, I want to look good doing it.

“I think you’re going to live to a very old age,” Derek says.

I pretend to gasp. “Are you wishing colostomy bags and cataracts on me?”

“You’ve volunteered here for months, and that’s how you see these people?”

I drop the act, and a small smile breaks out. No. That isn’t how I see them at all. Sure, at first, they were all gnarled hands and fake teeth and wispy hair, but I know where that disdain comes from.

I’m terrified of death.

Go figure.

“They’re okay, I guess.” I hand over my badge to Mary and lead the way out of the front doors. “Except for Kevin. Kevin sucks.”

Derek chuckles. “Still painting poop?”

“Yup. Somehow, he’s even worse at it than when he started.”

I follow Derek to his car. It’s a newer-model black Toyota and somehow looks like the perfect car for him. It’s instantly my favorite car ever.

“I love spring,” I say, climbing into the hot cab.

“I thought fall was your favorite?”

Wow. I glance his way, wondering how the hell he remembered that. “It is, but since it still feels like forever away, I’m pretending it’s not.” I watch his beefy forearm as he starts the car. “What’s your favorite season?”

He thinks it over as he backs out of the parking lot. “I don’t think I have one. In summer, it gets too hot, and I want it to be winter. Then in winter, it’s the same in reverse.”

That’s a good answer. “Molly loves summer.”

“I could have guessed that.”

“Because he’s always so happy and gets stupidly excited over squirrels?”

“Well, I didn’t know about the squirrel thing, but yeah. He seems like a summery guy.”

I’m not sure what a summery guy is like, and I wonder what Derek means by that. “He’s pretty too,” I bait, hating how easily I drop back into bad habits.

“He is. He and Seven look good together.”

“I look good with them too,” I insist .

“Sorry. I didn’t know you were dating them.”

I don’t know if he’s being a smart-ass or not, but that comment makes me groan. “He’s my brother, don’t be gross.”

“You said it.” The teasing in his tone is everything I’ve been missing. Then, he gets overly focused on the road. “So … are you seeing anyone?”

It’s the first time I’ve gotten the temptation to lie. How would Derek react if he thought there was someone else in my life? The fact I can’t tell whether he’d get jealous or not care doesn’t help make up my mind. “Are you?” I ask instead.

“Nope. Other than my host family, most of the people in Ghana who I met were patients. And you know the law between patients and the medical professionals treating them.”

Unfortunately, I know about those rules way too well. “That it’s not allowed.”

He takes his eyes off the road for long enough to meet my gaze. “They’d take my license.”

Well, I guess that’s that. Coffee really is just coffee and not a euphemism for him wanting to take my virginity. At this stage, I’d gladly yeet the damn thing because I want it gone. I’m almost thirty and still haven’t had sex.

Dr. Sherwin hasn’t even begun to work with me on my weirdness to sex when we have so much else to unpack, like my catastrophizing, anxiety, and apparent OCD—while I repel people, apparently, I collect mental illnesses like trading cards—but apparently, it makes sense. To him. Which, yippee for me. I’ve been neglected so many times, and sexualized so many others, that I need trust before I can go there.

I’d told him his theory was stupid and went out that night in an attempt to hook up, which led to me hyperventilating and passing out in the middle of the dance floor.

Ah … the memories.

But that leaves us at one point to Sherwin. Zero points to me .

Maybe I need to stick my dick into a glory hole and get it over with, but my mind won’t let me go there. All I can think about is whether the person on the other side has bad breath or funky teeth or … or … thrush or something.

There’s also the potential he’ll chomp off my dick and leave me bleeding out on a seedy bathroom floor—not ideal circumstances for getting it up.

Derek doesn’t have funky teeth though. Derek smells nice. I bet he uses breath mints and brushes twice a day.

I want to have sex with him. I want to have sex with him a lot.

We get to the cafe, place our orders, then settle at a table in the back. He takes the booth side, and I sort of want to join him there, but instead, I remind myself that a friend would take the opposite seat.

Derek takes a tentative sip of his black coffee while I dump sugar in my hazelnut latte.

“Sweet tooth?” he asks.

“Sometimes.” I nod to his coffee. “Old man?”

He laughs. “Sometimes.”

While this might be friendly catch-up coffee, I need to clear up a few things. “Did you really go to Ghana to get away from me?”

“Sure did.”

I’m not expecting him to admit it again. “I don’t understand.”

Derek drums his fingers against the mug handle. “I’ve wanted to volunteer for Nursing International since I completed my degree, so it wasn’t totally because of you. It’s something I needed to cross off the bucket list and actually experience.”

“And you did it.”

“I did. It was amazing. Really helped open up my perspective of the world. But you are the reason I decided to go now. ”

“You’re welcome.”

His eyes spark. “Am I?”

“Yes. It’s basically because of me that you achieved your dreams. I’m an inspiration. A voice of the generation, you might say.”

“If you’re the voice of my generation, I’m worried we’re going to be greatly misrepresented.”

“I think the Kardashians already have that covered.” I prop my chin in my hand. “Why did you need space from me?”

He sighs and meets my eyes. “You know why.”

A bucketload of hope dumps over my head. “You care about me? Or … cared? Care?”

“Stop fishing.”

I give him my evilest grin. “Then answer the question.”

“I treated you for years. It doesn’t matter how I feel or how I felt because nothing can happen, even if we were both on the same page.”

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Actually, the rules are there for a very good reason.”

Fuck the rules. The rules can go to hell. Though I can say that because I’m not the one who would have to deal with the fallout if we hooked up and he got into trouble for it.

But … “Does that mean … are you saying … so if you’d never treated me, I’d have a chance with you?”

“I …”

“Yes or no?”

He watches me warily. “I have no idea what your thoughts are?—”

“My thoughts are that I want this coffee date to be an actual date.”

Derek laughs, sunlight catching in his messy hair and clean, clean teeth. When he answers, lines around his eyes creased and voice dipped low, I can barely hear him over the other people around us. “You’re all I can think about. ”

“Then—”

“No.” He doesn’t leave a break for me to argue back. “I love being a nurse, and I want to volunteer overseas again. There’s a placement in Cambodia that I think I’m going to apply for.”

My heart sinks with every word. “So you don’t care about me at all.”

His hand crosses the table to cover the one I’m not leaning on. “Please try to see where I’m coming from. This isn’t easy for me.”

“Then why did you come back?”

“Because you were here.”

“But—”

“I know.” He clears his throat and lets my hand go. “I can’t offer much, and I get it if you say no, but I’d really like to be friends with you.”

Friends. He wants to be friends ? I stare him down, trying to get a read on his expression and whether he knows what he’s doing to me.

Not good enough. Not wanted. Second best.

All my fears and insecurities come rushing forward as Derek confirms that he won’t even try. It’s been six months—we could easily keep things a secret.

Doesn’t he get that I need him?

My eyes prickle as I whisper pathetically, “I want to own you.”

Something deep in his eyes shifts, and I worry that I’ve scared him off. That he’s going to tell me I’m too far gone for anyone to help. That it’s creepy and obsessive and?—

His foot slips between mine under the table and then links behind my ankle. Derek leans over the table toward me, and this time when his hand covers mine, there’s a possessive grip to it.

“I’m trying to be a good person. At least let me pretend. ”

I know all about pretending to be a good person. I know all about the lies I have to tell myself to do it.

So I tell one more.

“Friends,” I agree. “Nothing more.”