Chapter 34
“How’s work been this week?”Dr. Hampton asks, pen in hand and poised over the pad on her lap.
Last week, I told Tymber I was done filling time with random tasks in the office. With a strained smile on his face, he said he was excited to have me online again.
I will be the first to admit I’m not ready for a job that will consume every waking hour of my life. But I am ready to get back to what I love most—helping others by putting my knowledge and skills to use.
In the month since my return to TWSIS, I’d revamped my office three times, organized the supply closet twice, rummaged through the breakroom, thrown away several expired and questionable food items, and coached each employee no less than two full days each.
The past four weeks of low-stress tasks and zero pressure were exactly what I needed to ease myself back into my old work routine. I remained active with the team and contributed to the company I helped build.
As of two days ago, I am back at my desk and doing what I love… with minor restrictions.
“Great.” I cross my legs at the ankles. “Dusting off the cogs a bit, but it’s nice to be back and have a sense of purpose.”
“What about the workload?”
Here is where the restrictions come into play. Limitations I put in place.
“Minimal.” A sardonic huff leaves my lips. “But that’s my doing.”
“We haven’t talked much about your schedule from before. By your reaction, I assume this is not what you’re used to.” She scribbles notes on the pad.
I shove my hands in the front pocket of my hoodie—Oliver’s hoodie—and clamp my fingers painfully. “Not at all. Most of my workdays were ten to twelve hours long. Depending on the project, sometimes I’d work from home after I left the office.” I shrug and purse my lips. “I love what I do.”
A soft smile tips up the corners of her mouth. “It doesn’t always feel like work when we love what we do.”
“Exactly.”
“Does work feel different now?”
“A little.” I shift my attention to the window and stare at the evergreens lining the bay. “I still love it.”
I pause, but Dr. Hampton doesn’t push me to continue. Instead, she lets me decide when to speak and how much to say. The backs of my eyes sting as I consider my next words.
“After what happened, parts of the job seem trivial.”
“How so?”
With Dr. Hampton’s expertise, I’ve been able to process what happened without guilt or shame. She has taught me how to find the smallest shred of positivity in each moment as we work through my experience. Every time I have a nightmare or flashback, I follow one of several mental exercises she has taught me. Rather than surrender my energy to the horrors I lived through, I channel my attention on what and who is important. I breathe through the dark memories, tell myself they are in the past, and remind myself I am safe and home now. Then, I focus on something positive in my life. It’s not a slow process, and I do my best not to rush it.
Some days, the exercises work. Other times, the images are too vivid, too front of mind, too gruesome to forget.
Oliver has been my rock and guiding light through everything. When a panic attack or nightmare surfaces, he centers me with softly spoken words and gentle touches. A simple reminder he is by my side. But as we attempt to move forward, our lives ease back into our former routines. Which means it is impossible to spend all hours of the day together.
Thankfully, the other solid friendship I have is with my business partner. Tymber is more like a brother than a colleague, and I’m fortunate to have met him years ago. Like Oliver, Tymber gives me freedom to breathe and make my own decisions. But when I need extra support, he steps up without hesitation.
After a nightmare or flashback, I see the world through a different lens. Frivolous activities and situations no longer hold the same weight they once did. And that perspective has bled into every facet of my life, including work.
“I work at one of the top up-and-coming security and investigative companies in the Northwest.” I scoff. “Because of me, one of the biggest known human trafficking rings was shut down.” Tipping my head back, I stare at the ceiling and take a deep breath. “Chasing potentially unfaithful spouses seems like a foolish waste of time and resources now.” I level my gaze and roll my lips between my teeth. “But I’m also terrified to work on a case as heavy as my last.”
Dr. Hampton jots notes on her pad. Eyes narrowed and lips bunched, her expression turns curious. “I’m unfamiliar with the logistics of your company, but is it possible for you to specialize in an area of security or investigations?”
My vision blurs a moment as I tilt my head left then right. “It’s never been brought up before, but I suppose it’s possible. Why?”
Gathering the pad and pen, she sets them on the table beside her chair and clasps her hands in her lap. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that everyone heals differently and in their own time. We’ve been working together close to two months and your progress has been remarkable.”
When Dr. Hampton remains silent a moment, I say, “But…”
A kind smile lights her expression. “I think you would truly benefit from working on cases where you reunite people rather than unearth a scandal.”
I mull over the idea. Abductions aren’t something I’m quite ready to handle yet, but Dr. Hampton probably has a different concept in mind. “I like the idea, but kidnappings are… off the table. For now.”
Her eyes soften. “It may be years before you’re comfortable with darker cases, and that’s normal. I’d anticipate nothing less. I was thinking more along the lines of helping a loved one find someone they haven’t seen or spoken to in years due to a discord between other family members.” She sits straighter and crosses one leg over the other. “It would fulfill your desire to help others, as well as make a positive impact—for them and you.”
I repeat her words in my head over and over. The idea has merit; the more I consider it, the more a new warmth blooms in my chest. A mixture of intuition and passion. Of purpose and courage. Now that it’s out in the open, I’d be a fool to ignore it.
“I’ll talk it over with Tymber.” I nod.
“Wonderful.” She reaches for her pen and paper. “Let’s discuss more personal topics now.”
I pull my hands from the hoodie pocket and stuff them beneath my thighs.
“Have you spent more time with other people?” She flips through her notes and reads an entry from a previous session. “A couple weeks ago, you mentioned a cookout with friends.”
The day flashes in my mind.
A little more than a week after we visited the island off the coast, Skylar and Lawrence hosted a gathering at their house. It was the same group that’d been on the boat, the same people Oliver has been friends with for a while.
So, I said yes to the invitation.
The day had its ups and downs.
“Overall, it was a nice time.” I take a deep breath and count to ten. “But after a few hours, I became restless. I wanted to leave but didn’t want to force Ollie to go.” I smile. “He was having a good time.”
“But you weren’t anymore?”
I shake my head. “Out of nowhere, it went from casual and comfortable to overwhelming.”
“What happened next?”
My heart races beneath my sternum as my tipping point resurfaces. “I don’t know exactly how it happened, but one of the guys snuck up on one of the ladies. It was meant to be funny.” My brows scrunch together. “She screamed so loud.” I close my eyes as my stomach twists in knots. “I fell off my chair and curled in on myself on the ground.”
Dr. Hampton writes on the paper. “What ran through your mind in that moment?”
“Flashbacks of the screams I’d hear over the music before a guard came to my cell.”
“How long did the flashback last?”
I uncross my legs and my knee immediately bounces. “Felt like hours but Ollie says it was less than a minute.”
“Did any specific word or action bring you back to the present?”
My foot settles on the floor and my knee stops as I nod. “Oliver.” I audibly exhale as my pulse settles. “Well, more like his arms around me mixed with the scent of his cologne.”
She adds more to the pad. “Often, it’s easier to figure out what will trigger past trauma. Similar sounds, places, smells, circumstances or sights. But many don’t consider the ways to diminish or eliminate a trigger. Obviously, we won’t know what will activate those memories until it happens. That’s the unfortunate part. But we can work on how to come back to the present when they do happen.”
“How?”
“You said it was Oliver’s hold and scent that helped.”
I nod.
“Oliver is one of your pillars. He provides you with comfort, strength, freedom, courage, security, and love—all things that were taken from you during your abduction. His embrace and smell are pleasurable to you. A happy trigger, if you will. They remind you that you’re home, safe, and with him. Does that make sense?”
I never looked at it from that angle. “Yes.”
“An exercise I’d like you to practice over the next couple of weeks is learning other happy triggers. Not just with Oliver, but anyone you spend considerable time with. This way, you have more than one person to help bring you back to the present. Also, many people use an object to ground them when triggers occur. A touchstone. It can be any object—a stone, coin, jewelry, etcetera. Find something you can always keep on you.”
I nod.
“Last appointment, you mentioned your relationship with Oliver was good but that you missed how it was prior to your abduction. Has there been any change?”
My knee starts to bounce again. “Still good. Pretty much the same.” I clutch the underside of my thighs. “I want us to get a place of our own but haven’t told him.”
“What holds you back from asking?”
Fear of rejection. Him thinking it’s silly or too soon. Me not getting better and it causing a rift between us.
The fact that I can’t fucking tell him I love him.
“I’m worried he won’t want to and it’ll be the start of the end.”
Again, she sets her pen and paper aside. Scooting to the edge of her seat, a soft smile grazes her lips. “It’s normal to fear losing someone you love, Levi. You’ve told me quite a bit about Oliver. I may not know him the way you do, but I have a strong enough picture of him to believe it’d take a true force of nature for him to walk away from you.”
“I don’t want him to say yes and not mean it.”
“Then tell him as much.”
Sounds too easy. Too good to be true.
“Is there more to it?”
As usual, Dr. Hampton knows me better than I know myself.
“He’s told me several times since I’ve been back that he loves me.” I drop my gaze to my lap. “But I can’t say the damn words to him.”
“How does the idea of saying the words make you feel right now?”
Taking a deep breath, I test the words in my head.
Ollie, I love you.
Nervous energy swirls beneath my diaphragm. I close my eyes and focus on the sensation. Break it into parts. Dissect it until I reach the missing or tattered piece. After a moment, an unwelcome thought crosses my mind.
What if I say it and he thinks it’s not genuine? What if he thinks I’m saying it to appease him?
“Jittery.”
“Do you know why?”
I inhale a lungful of air and answer on the exhale. “I’ve never questioned the way Ollie feels about me or how I feel about him.” I clamp my lips between my teeth until it hurts. “But what if he questions my feelings now? What if he thinks my I love yous are from a place of obligation? What if he thinks I’m saying I love you to cope?”
“I want you to picture Oliver.”
I close my eyes. “Okay.”
“In your mind, ask him any or all of those questions. How would the Oliver you know respond?”
Tears sting the backs of my eyes as I open them. “He’d cup my cheeks, look me square in the eye, and tell me he knows how I feel. Then, he’d tell me he loves me.”
Warmth radiates off Dr. Hampton as she gives me a kind smile. “You have your answer.” She glances at her watch, then gathers her pen and paper. “Often, people spend a lot of time brewing over what they think someone will say rather than having an open conversation and hearing how the other person feels. Over time, that supposition grows and festers until it’s unmanageable and they explode. By then, they’re so stuck on a false ideology it’s difficult to believe the truth. Even from the source.”
The truth of her words is a punch to the solar plexus. It renders me speechless, breathless, thoughtless.
Dr. Hampton rises from her chair. “In addition to learning more about your happy triggers and finding a touchstone, I’d like you to have an open conversation with Oliver about what we’ve discussed today.”
Rising from my seat, I follow her to the door. “Okay.”
“Talk through any nervousness at your own pace. And remember that you don’t have to discuss everything in one conversation. It’s okay to break them into smaller, more manageable chats.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
She rests a hand on my shoulder. “You’re welcome. I’m here if you need me.” With a smile, her hand falls away. “See you on Monday.”
I exit her office, scan the parking lot, then dash to my car—another piece of normal I got back ten days ago—a few spaces away. Unlocking it, I slide behind the wheel, lock the doors, and crank the engine. After I secure my seat belt, I scan the lot again and reverse out of the space.
As I drive through town, I mull over how to broach the subject of moving with Oliver. I also practice saying I love you out loud several times while I’m alone.
The jittery sensation roars to life in my chest again, but this time it feels different. Almost as though I’m telling Oliver I love him for the first time.
“I love you, Ollie,” I say for the umpteenth time as I park in the empty driveway. This time, the words come out stronger.
I can do this.
Because I have Oliver, I can do anything.