Dying to Meet You

4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Make me

Eden

O n days when I wake feeling an overwhelming sense of unease, I stand utterly still at the bedroom window staring at the clouds. The hope I bury in my soul that I’m doing good by helping others breathes calm over my anxiety. I know I shouldn’t exist. It will be a stain on me forever, but it drives my purpose. I’ll do my damnedest to undo the damage caused by cults.

The note that nags at me is clutched in my hand. I just don’t get it. It’s over. The nightmare I endured growing up is finished. The truth of it all was revealed a few summers ago. Now this? Dread blooms in all its glory inside my heart. The words don’t make sense in meaning, but what it alludes to does.

The crows would know why you need to die.

It’s no joke. I’ve been trying to convince myself it was, but it’s only delaying the inevitable-telling my husbands, because this sounds like a threat from the past we’ve left behind. I grew up in a cult shrouded in so many lies twined together, the pieces will never all fall in place. The crazy bitch I believed to be my mother had a boyfriend who believed the crows he kept would tell him what God wanted done. Spurred on by his meth use and a drive to torment us kids, he’d use the crows to scare us.

But that was a different life. He’s gone and so is she. So, who could know this information and be using it?

Could it merely be a coincidence?

Right. Because every wacko uses crows as a threat. It’s amazing how many arguments I make trying to justify why I shouldn’t be freaked out. It’s the real reason I’m not putting up a fight about the security detail Keir wanted; the Columbian cartel doesn’t seem as scary to me as this note written in inky block letters.

Once Matt is back from the trial, we can deal with this. It’s not like there aren’t more pressing issues. My attempt at talking with Zinnea was a failure. She gave me lectures about the fires of Hell while pacing around her room. I wanted to burst into tears. Zeb started crying in the room next door causing her to race in. With her holding him tightly against her, I couldn’t remove him. She was like a caged animal, making me deeply concerned over whether he’d be hurt. Gingerly, I placed my bent pinky finger in his mouth. He latched on, and the bleat of his cry tapered off. Finally, it convinced her I needed to feed him.

Calling Dr. Almari to schedule an appointment was easier, knowing reasoning with Zin is getting more difficult.

The house is hushed. Without the kids or most of the guys here, the absence of bustle becomes loud. I knock lightly on Matt’s bedroom door. He came home late last night. I talked myself out of bothering him in the middle of the night, but he leaves next week. He’s been working long hours, traveling between two offices to get ready for the trial. When we’ve crossed paths, he looks depleted. “Babe?” I rest my forehead on his door while knocking again. “Matt?”

He’s yawning when the door opens, one eye squeezed shut. “This is the only acceptable way to be woken up.” His arms wrap around me, a hand holding my head to his chest. I take a deep breath in, taking in his scent and grounding myself in his presence.

Sturdy. His discipline, grip on reality, and his intuitive nature. Just knowing he’s here gives me a break from the maddening thoughts I’ve been obsessing over. “Can I lay with you? Just for a few minutes before I need to get ready for work.” I want to climb into bed with him, snug in his strong arms while shutting out the world.

He’s painfully handsome. From the first moment I spotted him, I was attracted fiercely. Tall, dark hair, penetrating blue eyes. His smile makes my heart flutter. Not exactly the tattooed bad boy he portrayed himself to be, he’s the most responsible adult I’ve ever known.

“You never need to ask, love.” His lips find mine with a tender kiss. He nuzzles his nose into my cheek saying, “I’ve missed the hell out of you.”

Same. He’s my pillar of strength.

Wearing only a pair of worn black sweatpants, his warm bare chest draws my hands, smoothing their way without much thought down his happy trail. He chuckles lightly. “Is this actually a booty call?”

I hadn’t intended that, but…

“Ugh, I can’t help myself around you. You know that.” Regardless of the lovemaking with Blaine last night, involving countless rounds of entertaining positions and experimenting with toys, being close to Matt draws that craving out of me.

Taking his time, he pulls an old T-shirt of Blaine’s off that I’d slept in that says “ Pavlov? Yes, the name rings a bell”. Fitting since I’ve managed to condition myself to want their bodies whenever I’m close enough to touch them. His mouth grazes my neck before he moves to my right breast, teasing my nipple with a combination of licking and scraping his teeth over it making my back arch. His hands busy themselves helping me slide out of my no-nonsense cotton underwear. I’m kicking myself for not changing into something more enticing, but I know he couldn’t care less about what’s covering me.

It’s a fruitless mission, trying to get his sweatpants down, since he has my eyes rolling back in my head before he’s even made his way below my waist.

“How do you want me?” he purrs seductively into my ear.

Uh, you name it. Missionary, doggy, legs in the air, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, lotus, standing… I can handle anything…anything. “Ooohhh…oh, yeah, that’s the spot.”

He rears back, taking his pants off, revealing he’s commando underneath. His cock stands at the ready, his hand giving it a rough jerk before lowering himself over me. “Sweetheart?” He lays a hand next to my pussy, a thumb tapping at a lip. “You’re awfully red…”

More like rubbed raw. Blaine and I got carried away. When he left for work, he was walking with a wince. Call me warped, but I like the marks, the feeling of being well used…the aftereffects to remind me of the act itself. Periodically throughout the day I’ll smile to myself when I shift in my seat and feel the ache. The sting. Or I’ll look at myself in the mirror shifting my shirt aside to see a bite mark or bruise.

“Uh-huh.” I pull him closer to me. “It’s fine. Really.” On my knees now I focus on his lips, drawing my pointer finger and thumb together to squeeze his lower lip. “You asked me how I want you? Deep…I need …no I want you deep and slow.” I want to feel him pressed deep inside me, stretching and pushing until I can’t breathe.

We’re lying facing each other when he settles one of my legs over his waist, his cock dragging up my slit, letting our adjustment naturally rub at my clit. He looks me in the eye as I take his weighty length in my hand. Rubbing over his head the pre-cum spreads across my thumb.

When I put that thumb in my mouth to suck, he groans as his eyes flutter closed. With a shift, my other hand takes over the stroking, not stopping until I’ve run my fingertips over his taint, a finger pressing outside his hole. “Baby? If I don’t get inside you, we’re going to have a mess.”

Feeding his dick into me, I pull him close, crushing us together. Quick kisses, out of breath, Matt takes control of our tempo, but I tell him slower. Slower to feel each movement, each twitch.

Time stands still. It halts entirely as I keep my eyes fixed on his. The intimacy shakes something in me, and tears threaten to spill. He kisses one of my eyes when I break the spell cast by our sustained gaze by squeezing my eyes closed, wetting my cheeks.

“I love you, honey,” he whispers roughly. His hands ease down over my buttocks to rest underneath, adding more pressure on his deep thrusts.

Opening my eyes back up, he leans in again to work his mouth over mine. We breathe each other in, our tongues teasing each other as my body winds to the point of exquisite tension.

Release comes with force, my limbs shaking slightly as I let my head fall back. “M-Maatt…oh, I-I’m…”

“That’s right, beautiful. Just let go.” He kisses my jaw. Our pace slows further, and I feel him pulling back.

“No, no…” My hands frantically pull at his hips to pull him back in. “Don’t stop…don’t.”

But that hadn’t been his intention.

“Hold on,” he warns before pulling me on top of him, fucking me from underneath with wild abandon. His face flushes, jaw clenched. “You feel like a dream.” His rhythm flags when he remembers the evidence of my skin being irritated. “Fuck. Are you okay? Do you need me to slow back down?”

I am, but I suddenly want nothing more than to watch him blow. Nodding, I slide off him, my hands quickly taking hold of his length to bring him to orgasm. “Are you going to come? Hmm?”

Words don’t make it out of his mouth which has dropped open as he props himself up on his elbows to see me better.

Running my tongue over my upper lip, I continue stroking him, but I know how much Matt loves a blowjob. I may not be the best in the house that honor is held by Blaine, but I will give it my all. Swallowing down his girthy nine inches causes me to gag briefly before I settle on massaging my tongue over his tip and working his cock with one of my hands.

I sit back just in time to see the jets of cum shoot out, using the back of one hand to wipe at my mouth. Lying back down atop Matt with his cum covering his abs, I kiss the side of his mouth. “Now we need a shower. Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

We both start to speak. “I wan-” I start while he says, “I shou-”

“Go ahead,” I say through a laugh.

He cuddles me close, tucking my head under his chin. “I should let you know a couple things. I was going to tell everyone tonight at dinner, but since you’re here right now…” He scoots back to sit up further taking me with him. “I’ve been working on delaying leaving for LA. I’m not technically needed to testify for two weeks, but for some godforsaken reason my subpoena has a different date.”

My relief over him not leaving for a couple weeks is cut short by his next revelation. “But since I’m leaving later, I’ve been made aware of a string of copycat killings in Indiana and Pennsylvania, a possible serial killer.”

It’s always a trade-off. Safe from one tragedy and flung into the next. That’s been his job since being promoted to department head. His role is to supervise offices in Pennsylvania, Indiana, and New Jersey. At first, all the traveling was the worst part, but now his safety being in jeopardy wins out. I understand Keir being at the New York office was his reasoning for taking the promotion to other field offices; he never wanted even a hint of impropriety to affect Keir.

“I’m not liking the sound of that,” I reply as carefully as possible. He shouldn’t feel the need to manage my emotions over this.

“Three cases in a week of killings that are…” He squeezes me before continuing quietly, “They’re leaving The Realists marks behind.”

My sucked in breath and shaky denial don’t even begin to show how rattled this makes me. First the note, now this. “Matt? That’s…” Words escape me.

We were healing. Weren’t we? That summer didn’t define us anymore. That stupid study may be our origin story, but it doesn’t mean we have to relive it all over. Right? How is this even possible?

“We’ve kept tabs on the dark web for mention of the group, but other than a couple vague messages, their activity seemed to have died out. I don’t know, Eden. If I’ve learned anything, coincidences are rarely that. There’s an anniversary coming up.”

Camp Carroll. The start of my story.

“Matt, I have to show you something.” I quickly pull the T-shirt back on to grab the note I’d tucked into my purse. I come back with it as he’s scrolling through his phone. “This was left on my desk at work a couple of days ago.”

His jaw drops as he looks up at me. Reading it again, he says gravely, “You should’ve called me immediately, Eden. Right away.”

I agree, but I was busy denying what this is. I can’t tell him that, though, because it makes me sound like I’ve lost my mind. “I’m telling you now.”

“Who else knows?”

Making a face, I admit, “Just you and me. I thought maybe it was…a joke?”

He gets up, pacing the room while he sends a text, muttering, “A joke? How is that funny…?”

While I beat myself up for taking the note too lightly, Matt outlines his plan for protection. The irony: He didn’t know Keir’s plan yet came up with something similar. Only this one doesn’t include Rivera. One small consolation. Instead, he calls Keir’s superior asking for Harrison and Bristow the two agents Matt has known the longest. Both are familiar with Camp Carroll and The Realists.

“We’ll get through this. We will. You need to be careful. In fact, start seeing patients remotely again. Just until we sort this all out.” I’d considered that when the note spooked me. My time at home right now could help Zinnea, too.

“We can’t stay on lockdown here indefinitely. And what about you? Are you going to work remotely again?” Please say yes . He always downplays his risks.

I know the answer by looking at his face. Looking back down at his phone, he says, “I leave for Pennsylvania tomorrow to get briefed on the latest killing.”

So much for the illusion of peace I’d built in my head. It’s back…that dark cloud of suspicion. Waiting for the evil ghost that lives in my head to come alive is going to shatter me.

I can’t lose my family. If one of those cult members is coming for me, I hope with everything in me no one else becomes collateral damage. They can take me, put an end to this madness. But if they mess with anyone I love? That could be the start of my villain era.

The office building where Dr. Almari practices has fancy stone floors, potted ferns, and gold sconces. Abstract artwork dots the pewter fabric-covered walls. The air smells like cinnamon. We’re ushered into the lobby by a harried-looking nurse wearing dark-gray scrubs.

“She’s running behind schedule. Her last appointment was…” Spacing out momentarily she adds, “Never mind. She should be with you in a few minutes.”

Zinnea has had the same grim look on her face the whole way here. “Did you see the yogurt shop next door? We should stop there when you’re done talking to Dr. Almari. What do you say? I used to love frozen yogurt. We always called it froyo…” I realize I’m babbling nonsense because I’m ill at ease. Can she see how hard I’m trying?

The door swings open, and a steely-eyed middle-aged woman with cropped spiky silver hair comes in, adjusting her glasses. Her outfit is a cross between Bea Arthur circa Golden Girls and your average grandma playing bingo in a housecoat. I’m caught off guard by the frown cast in my direction before she chooses to ignore me. Greeting Zinnea she says in a haughty manner, “Hello, I’m Dr. Almari. And you are?”

We follow the doctor into her regal office.

Zin shrinks away from her while sitting in one of the overstuffed leather office chairs. Her voice is almost indiscernible as she answers, “Zinnea.”

“Speak up, please. No need to watch your volume here.” She circles the desk to set her glasses on it. “I’m hoping we can be friends.”

Maintaining my composure, I speak up, “Her name is Zinnea, and I’m her guardian, Eden Bradford.” I stand to shake her hand, but she still disregards me.

Again, addressing Zin, she says, “We only have two hours a week together. To make that helpful, you will need to talk. Loud enough for me to hear you. Do you understand?”

I don’t like her. My initial misgivings are only fortified by her off-putting sternness. Also, could she at least acknowledge I’m in the room?

I clear my throat, continuing, “Dr. Almari? Could we start over here? Maybe ease into this differently. Zin-”

She cuts in, turning to glare at me. “Do you need a moment?”

Floored, my mouth opens and closes a couple of times. She may be in the running for the top three rudest people I’ve ever encountered. Considering the life I’ve had, that’s saying a lot.

She sits on a leather chair angled towards Zin, addressing me in an icy tone. “This appointment is not for you. You are not my patient.”

Still shocked, I manage to say with a slight shake to my voice, “With all due respect, Doctor, I’m her guardian. She’s a child, and when she needs an advocate or someone to speak on her behalf, that’s my role.”

Zinnea sits up suddenly, looking between us. Then in a strong, clear voice, she says, “My name is Zinnea Abbott.”

A reptilian-looking smile flits across the doctor’s face while ignoring everything I said. “Good. I think we’re going to do great work together.” Her tone switches to dismissiveness with me. “Wait in the lobby.”

I don’t move for a solid minute or two, debating whether I should grab Zinnea’s hand to leave while flipping this old bat a one-fingered salute. “The lobby,” she says more firmly, pointing at the door.

What happens next must be a side effect of the shock. I get up and move robotically to the well-appointed lobby, sitting next to an espresso machine while staring at the rainbows made on the wall from the crystal chandelier. What an absolute bitch. How is this helpful to Zinnea? Maybe Dr. Wallen made an error in judgement; money seems to blind him at times, hence his long-standing relationship with the Lassiter family, who are as crooked and evil as they come.

Counting in fives and fantasizing about an outstanding clap-back at the doctor, I wait out the hour-long appointment. The nurse from earlier calls me over to her desk. “Dr. Almari is asking you to step in while she has your daughter return to the lobby.”

Oh, by all means. Anything her highness wants.

I don’t bother being courteous when I enter the office, standing a foot inside the door. She doesn’t seem concerned that I’m not taking a seat. “Dr. Eden Bradford,” she states, her tone belying some disgust. She caps her pen while looking up at me. “I could have your license pulled.”

“What?!” I should have honored my impulse earlier to leave.

“I don’t know how you were licensed in this state to begin with. I make a point of looking into all the parents and guardians who bring kids to me. Do you understand the word ethics ?”

My freaking spine reasserts itself. “Excuse me? Ethics? You do see the irony of asking me that when you just told me you were digging into my business, right? What type of moral principles do you have?” My face is red-hot. I can feel my heart pounding, but I don’t stop. “You could ‘have’ my license pulled in the state of New York, huh? Does that mean I could use the people I know to put you out of practice? It wouldn’t be a loss to the behavioral health field. Your demeanor is atrocious.”

She’s not the least bit humbled or put in her place as she retorts, “The people you know? Like the Lassiter family heir? Was that the reason you became involved with a certain patient during your grad school study? Must’ve been blinded by the dollar signs.”

I’ve been accused before of engineering our relationship by strangers who don’t know us. I had no idea who he was; she’s just trying to work me up. Taking a calming breath, I attempt to fix my facial expression. “Dr. Almari, under the circumstances I think Zinnea would be better off seeing another psychologist.”

I’m halfway through the door when she says, “No. You’ll bring her back on Thursday at the same time.”

The gall of his woman. “Why would I do that?”

Turning back to meet her eyes, she gives me a cold look. “If you don’t, I will see to it that all the children in your home are removed.”

I regret not recording our conversation. She’s gone directly from terrible to horrendously vile. “Y-you…” Stepping back into her office I close the door before saying, “On what grounds?”

“Ms. Bradford…or is it Ms. Davis?” No one has called me that in years. I don’t miss her dropping the title of doctor from my name. “I don’t care for people like you. You think you're entitled to do as you please in the name of past trauma. You’ve violated patient-doctor boundaries by carrying on a romantic relationship with not one, not two, but,” she sneers at me, “three patients. You must’ve paid someone to get your current job at the Horizon Wellness Center, because you don’t even bother to show shame for your egregious behavior. Now, you’ve pulled three more small children into this situation. Caleb Smith, Keir Marcus, and Hutton Lassiter could not see through your wiles, but I won’t allow the Abbot children or even your children, to suffer in that environment.”

“Cross…His last name is Cross, not Lassiter. Furthermore, no court system would ever remove our kids from us. They’re loved and well cared for.” How is this happening right now?

“ You’re nothing but an abomination. You were never meant to exist.”

And just like that, the progress I’d made is broken, shattered like a cracked pane of glass in a windstorm. Her words cut through me.

“A person with your past is not capable of healthy relationships. I’m well aware of what happened at Camp Carroll. I’ve written journal articles about it.” Is she oblivious to my reaction to her threats? Now she’s mentioning work she’s done like I give a flying fuck? “The best thing you could do for yourself is seek therapy and stop this charade that you're qualified to help anyone.”

My entire being is vibrating with anger.

Acceptance of our relationship didn’t automatically happen within our own families. My grandparents came around because they love the kids and I; Matt’s family pretends it’s normal; Blaine’s parents would love for him to run away with Matt and Waverly while the rest of us disappear. Keir, Caleb, and Hutton were robbed of family and resources. Did that alone influence their decisions?

“She’ll be back on Thursday. Not because I have any faith in your abilities after this exchange, but because I won’t risk the wellbeing of all our kids. It would be devastating to us if you followed through on your threat. Don’t feel proud of yourself, though. You’ve just made an enemy of me; when all you had to do was be a professional.”

I hold it together while getting frozen yogurt. I manage to drive home, making idle chit-chat that Zin doesn’t respond to. It’s not until I’m locked in my ensuite bathroom that I breakdown, gulping down sobs as every insecurity I’ve ever had rears up to attack me: useless, unloved, unwanted, thrown away, unworthy, loose, unethical, lied to, used…an abomination.