Chapter Eight
Cash
I knocked on Haizley’s door and waited for her to answer. The sound of her moving around made me grin. I knew what she was doing. She was making me wait.
When she finally opened the door, she stood with her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at me.
“My time is valuable.”
“It is, and I’m sorry.” I looked down. Shame at not showing up washed over me. My only excuse was that it helped to talk to Haizley. Only I wasn’t sure if I wanted the help. Dealing with the anger was easier than talking about the guilt.
“At least you’re on time.” She moved back, opening the door wide, and let me in.
My eyes went immediately to the stack of books in the chair I normally sat in and when I looked back at Haizley, she just watched me. A satisfied smirk barely perceptible on her face.
I shook my head and exhaled heavily. I let her win this one and walked to the couch. When I sat, I spread my arms out in a gesture that said, nice move.
She smiled and lifted the books from the chair, setting them on the floor. When she sat down, she pulled her legs up on the seat and stared at me.
I knew what she wanted. She wanted me to talk. Expected me to make the first move. It was my punishment for missing the last two sessions.
“I don’t want to talk about Rachel,” I said, my voice gruff.
“Ok.”
“Or my parents,” I added.
“What would you like to talk about?”
“Nothing.”
“Alright.” Haizley sat back and lifted her phone. I knew she was opening her reading app.
“Aren’t you supposed to push?”
Her eyes left her phone and found mine. “Why would you think that?”
I shrugged. Realizing one question had given her more information than I had intended.
“Have you been in therapy before?”
“When I was a kid. After my parents told me I was adopted.”
“You said it didn’t change anything when you found out?” she questioned.
“It didn’t.” I shrugged again. “My parents didn’t believe me so they made me see a shrink.”
“Did it help?”
“With what?” I asked.
“Your parents believing you?”
This woman constantly surprised me with her astute way of assessing a situation from a single sentence. “No. The shrink didn’t believe me either.” I fidgeted in my seat. We were getting close to a subject I wanted to talk about even less than my parents and Rachel.
“How long did you go?”
“Three years. Until I turned eighteen. They couldn’t make me go after that.”
She studied me without a word, and the more she sat without talking, the more nervous I got.
“What were you diagnosed with?”
“How the fuck do you do that?”
“Do what?” she asked, an innocent but deceptive expression on her face. She knew exactly what the fuck I was talking about.
I exhaled my defeat and said, “Apathy, stemming from Reactive Attachment Disorder.” I had done the research on RAD and it didn’t fit with what I felt inside. It wasn’t that I couldn’t feel emotion. I just didn’t see the need to create drama from my circumstances.
Haizley snorted, and I narrowed my eyes at her. “You disagree?” I asked.
“I do. I’ve seen you with your brothers. I saw you in town with Rachel. You clearly have no problem feeling emotion. Not everyone who chooses not to take part in PDA has a mental health issue.”
I thought about what she said. I wasn’t opposed to PDA; hell, I had been known to fuck a club girl or two in the bar at the Little Rock chapter. But I met Rachel so soon after we set up here, and fuck if I would share her with anyone.
“Did you love your parents?”
“Of course I did. They were my fucking parents. They opened their home to me; they loved me like parents should. I didn’t react when they told me I was adopted because as far as I was concerned, nothing had changed. They were the only parents I had and the only parents I wanted.”
Haizley tilted her head and took a deep breath before asking her next question. “Did you love Rachel?”
I stood from my seat, walking over to the door. “I’m done for today,” I snapped. It didn’t matter that we still had more than half an hour. I yanked the door open and left. Slamming it closed behind me.
I expected her to follow me outside. Try to persuade me to come back in and talk. But she didn’t. Swinging my leg over my bike and starting her up, I glared at her front door. Angry that she would ask me that question but disappointed she didn’t insist I answer it.
The truth was, I didn’t know if I could. After reading her letter, the things she said, I had to wonder if I really did love her. I’d thought I did. I wouldn’t have asked her to be my old lady if I didn’t.
We took that shit seriously. We were together a year before I gave her a cut. I wanted to make sure she was it. My forever.
Only she wasn’t.
And she claimed to know that.
What did that say about the way I treated her?
Did I not make her feel loved? I thought I had done everything right. I worshipped her. Gave her everything I could.
Maybe that was the problem.
“Fuck.” I dropped my head and turned off the bike. I didn’t move. I sat there for a good ten minutes before I finally gave in and made my way back to Haizley’s front door.
I lifted my hand to knock and paused. Before I pussied out again, I rapped my knuckles on the wood.
“Come in,” she called.
When I opened the door, Haizley was still sitting in that damn chair. I closed the door softly and walked around to the couch. Sitting on the edge of the seat, I rested my elbows on my knees and stared at the floor.
“I don’t know how to answer that question,” I stated honestly.
“It’s a yes or no question. Seems like a simple premise.”
I lifted my head and focused on her. I expected a condescending look similar to the last therapist. Instead, what I saw was worse.
Fucking pity.
“I don’t need your goddamn pity.”
“I don’t pity you. I am sad for you. You lost someone very close to you. It’s only been a few months.”
I rubbed the heel of my hand across my forehead. “I thought I loved her.”
“But you aren’t sure?”
“She didn’t think I did,” I confessed as I sat back against the couch.
“I find that hard to believe,” Haizley said, shaking her head as if what I’d said wasn’t the truth. Only I knew it was. Rachel had told me.
“She left me a letter. Told me she knew I didn’t love her the way she loved me.” I snorted, shaking my head. “Said it was ok because she wasn’t supposed to be my forever. But that I was hers.”
Haizley rolled her lips between her teeth, and I noticed the glassiness in her eyes. “Rachel was one of the most beautiful people I knew,” she said as a tear slipped down her cheek.
I blinked furiously at the ceiling. I didn’t need more of this shit. I felt guilty enough as it was.
“I’m sorry,” she said as she swiped under her eye. “Would you be willing to share the letter?” she asked. Then quickly added, “Don’t feel like you have to. But I suspect maybe you misunderstood what she was trying to say.”
“I didn’t misunderstand shit.” I stood again. “She made it clear that I fucked up as her old man. She didn’t feel loved by me and because of that, she made Ryder her next of kin instead of me.”
This time when I stormed out, I got on my bike and backed out of her driveway. As I rode out of town, I thought about the letter, what Rachel said about me finding my forever.
A picture of the sexy pixie with the pink hair flashed in my mind. I shook my head, trying to dispel the image. Only it stuck. I hadn’t been able to get her out of my mind since that day on the mountain. It was why I hadn’t been back.
I had no idea who she was or where she came from. Was she just passing through town, or was she still here? I hadn’t seen her in town, not that I had been there much.
Before I knew it, I was riding up the narrow path to Lookout Mountain. Disappointment flooded me when I made it to the top and I found myself alone.
Still, I turned off my bike and walked to the edge. I thought about the first time Rachel brought me up here.
“I want to show you something.” She practically floated in glee as she waited for me to respond. When I opened my mouth, she jumped the gun and asked, “Can we take a ride?”
She’d been on my bike plenty of times before, but suddenly this time felt different. We’d been seeing each other for almost a year. She practically lived with me at the clubhouse. It was time to make a decision.
I smiled at her and kissed her forehead. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Once she settled behind, she wrapped her arms around my waist. Every time she climbed on my bike, a calm settled over me. She had a way of doing that.
She rested her chin on my shoulder and said, “Head out of town, and I’ll tell you where to turn.”
I missed it the first two times. The third time around, I slowed so much I thought I might drop the bike. But then I saw what she pointed at. A small opening in the brush. Barely big enough to get my bike through.
“You want me to ride in there?” I asked, idling at the opening.
“Where’s your sense of adventure?” she joked, knowing I was always up for an adrenaline rush.
I twisted the throttle and roared into the brush. The branches struck us as we rode up the hill. If we weren’t wearing helmets, our faces would have been scratched to hell. I vowed to send the prospects over to clear a path large enough for the bikes to drive up.
When we got to the top, she hopped off and rushed to the edge.
“Hey, slow down.” I pulled her back, afraid she would slip right over the side. The thought of losing her made my chest hurt. It was the smack I needed to do what I had been thinking about for weeks.
“Be my old lady,” I said, and Rachel gasped before turning around in my arms.
“What?”
“I want you to be my old lady. Be my forever.”
Her smile looked sad at first, and I thought she would say no. Then it brightened and she threw her arms around me and kissed me.
When she pulled back and looked up at me, I asked, “Is that a yes?”
“Yes!”
Looking out over the town, the memory faded as I heard a bike coming up the path. My heart began to race, and I closed my eyes. I felt like a fifteen-year-old punk with a crush.
I didn’t turn around when the engine cut off. I stood facing the town. As long as I didn’t turn around, I could anticipate it being her and not a prospect out looking for me. Her footsteps were light. Barely making a sound as she walked closer.
I slipped my hands into my pockets for fear that I might reach out to her. Rachel’s words came back to me, but I brushed them off.
It had only been a few months. It didn’t matter what Rach had said. Even if I did consider taking on another old lady, the sexy little pixie wasn’t an option. I was too fucking old for her.