Chapter Twenty-Seven
Haizley
Once Aspen’s session was done, I met with Amber, and we worked out a schedule that fitted around her. She chose to come back to the house for her appointments. She was looking forward to getting out of the club twice a week.
Grabbing my bags from my room, I looked around once more, then I made my way outside to my car.
“Are you sure about this?”
King fell into step beside me, grabbing my bags.
He seemed to lurk around a lot, always sneaking up on me with words that felt like condemnation.
“I am.”
“He won’t hurt you, you know.”
“He will,” I countered.
“Gunner would never—”
Holding my hand up, I explained, “There are more ways to hurt someone than physically.”
“So, you won’t even take a chance? You won’t take the risk?”
“I can’t. I don’t take risks. Haven’t for a long time.”
“Then you haven’t lived for a long time.”
Looking at the president of the Silver Shadows, someone who had probably lived his whole life taking risks, surviving on adrenaline alone, I said the only thing I could. The sad truth.
“I know.”
Climbing into my car, I backed out of the parking spot that housed my car for the past week and drove through the gates.
I swiped at the tears that slipped out as I thought about what I was driving away from. I didn’t have a choice. Not really.
I loved Gunner. Which was insane because I didn’t even know his real name. But I had fallen in love with him over the past few weeks. Hell, I was already half in love with him before I moved to the clubhouse.
I fell in love the day at the diner, when I saw him with Penny. When he told me he was disappointed I had left him unprotected. He had wanted me to march over to his table and stake my claim.
But I couldn’t.
He wasn’t mine.
I didn’t get to keep the people in my life. Not if I let them in too far. It was why Missy and I were still friends. We were like sisters, but we weren’t inseparable. We had different lives, neither of us pushing the other to share more than we were comfortable with.
We both avoided getting too close. Keeping each other at arm’s length so as not to burden the other with our trauma. It was the same with Corbin. Once I had dealt with my grief, I pushed him away, distancing myself so I didn’t lose him either. I was tired of losing people from not caring enough. So instead, I cared too much and pushed people away.
Pulling into the driveway and exiting my car, I paused, looking around. For weeks I’d had the feeling of being watched whenever I stepped out of the house. It was probably just paranoia from interacting with so many people I normally didn’t. When I saw nothing out of the ordinary, I grabbed my bags and entered my home. Everything looked exactly the same as I left it.
Nothing had been disturbed.
Nothing was amiss.
Nothing had changed.
Story of my life.
Was it too much to ask for something to come in and turn my life upside down for just a little bit?
Someone did, and you walked away.
Oh, shut up.
Dropping my bags in the laundry room to deal with later, I opened my windows to release the stale air in the house. Then I set about straightening up a few things and wiping down the layer of dust that covered every surface.
Cash was due to come by today. King wasn’t sure he would, but I needed to be prepared just in case. Making the step to get therapy was never easy. Especially with men. More so for Alpha men like the Silver Shadows.
So, I waited.
And waited.
Fifteen minutes before his session was deemed to end, there was a knock on my door. Shaking my head, I set my book down and stood from my chair. Walking to the front door, I opened it and there he stood. His eyes were hollow and ringed with dark circles. The smell of whiskey seeped from his pores. I wondered what time he started drinking this morning. Was he even sober enough to be here?
“Hello,” I greeted, opening the door and giving him room to enter, still unsure if he would. He surprised me when he grunted and moved inside. Following him, I waited for him to sit. He chose the chair, and I had to hold in my amusement. It was a common stereotype that people believed you had to lay on a couch during a therapy session. Cash made it clear with his selection that he was not interested in that.
“Would you like a drink? Before you ask, I am not offering alcohol.”
Another grunt, and he sat back in the chair. I moved to the corner of the couch and sat down.
“How are you doing?”
“Fine.”
“Anything you would like to talk about?”
“No.”
“Then why did you come here?”
“King ordered me to.”
“What did King order you to do?”
“To make an appointment with you. He didn’t say I had to talk.”
Now we were getting somewhere. “So, if he ordered you to talk, would you?”
“I’d have to.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you gonna tell him I ain’t talkin’?”
“Nope. King will only know what you tell him. I won’t tell him anything unless you sign a waiver giving permission. Would you like to sign one?”
“Fuck, no.”
Cash didn’t rush to apologize like Derek did. What he failed to realize was, we didn’t need to talk about what was bothering him for me to get an idea of what he was dealing with.
I knew grief was at the top of the list, but I had a feeling there was more below the surface.
“Ok, we don’t have to talk. You can come to your appointments and we can sit in silence. Do you mind if I read?”
“Why the fuck would I mind?”
“Well, you are paying for my time.”
“Club’s paying for this shit.”
“Ok.” Looking at my watch, I calculated the time. “We have ten minutes left. For future appointments, it would be great if you could be on time. That way we would have the full hour to not talk.”
I gave him my therapy smile. It was condescending, but it was what he deserved at the moment. He looked around the room and then focused on me.
“You see people in your home alone?”
“Normally, no. I am an online therapist. I have only recently started taking in-person patients.”
“You need a security system. Gunner is shit at taking care of his woman.”
“I am not Gunner’s woman,” I stated firmly.
To which he responded with, you guessed it—a grunt.
We sat in silence until the timer on my phone rang out at the end of the session.
“That is all the time we have for today. Did King say how often he wanted you to come here?”
Cash stood from his chair and looked down at me.
His frown confused me.
“He said it was up to you.”
“Ok, well, if we are just going to meet without talking, I think once a week is plenty. Why don’t you come back this time next week?”
The deepening furrow in his brow told me he was still confused. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“I thought it was an hour long?”
“It was. Starting at three p.m. You only showed up fifteen minutes ago.”
“It hasn’t been an hour,” he stressed.
“Cash, I am sure you understand how appointments work. When you show up at the right time, you get the full hour. I have other patients.”
“Do you get paid for the entire hour?”
“I do.”
“Even if I ain’t fucking here?”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I stayed in my seat, raising a single brow, daring him to disagree. “Even if you aren’t fucking here. I get paid for my time. If an hour of my time is booked, I get paid for that hour. What you choose to do with that time is completely up to you.”
Seeing his lips part, I stood before he could say any more. “Let me walk you out.”
I preceded him to the door. Opening it for him, I held the door and waited for him to walk through it. When I turned to him, he was still standing in the middle of my living room. I waited quietly.
I knew what was going on.
He had come here expecting me to push him to talk. I suspected he thought he could pressure me into some kind of arrangement where he didn’t have to show up and I wouldn’t tell King.
I had seen it before. Not just from men, women tried it too.
When they realized I wouldn’t force them to come, but would still get paid, it tended to take the wind out of their sails.
Not always.
But with men like Cash. Men who I knew were good men dealing with a tough time. It was textbook.
Cash rubbed the back of his neck for a moment before relenting. He walked to my front door and stopped in front of me.
“What if I wanted to meet twice a week?”
“We could do that,” I assured him, giving nothing away.
“Ok.” He nodded. “King’s an asshole. You should get whatever you can out of him.”
Pressing my lips together, I struggled not to smile. Cash really was textbook. It might take a while for him to open up, but he would make those meetings. And he would put the onus on King as to why he was coming to see me.
“Ok. How about four days from now?” I eyed him. “Same time?”
“Yea,” he grunted and then left.
I watched as he walked to his bike and swung his leg over it. I was more than a little concerned about him driving without knowing if he had been drinking. But his words weren’t slurred. He smelled like whiskey, but that could be explained by drinking all night and then being hungover.
I had to believe that as president, King wouldn’t let him on his bike if he was drunk. I knew he took care of his men. That was why he had approached me about Cash coming to see me.
I had a small amount of time before my next online session. Opening up the file I’d started on Cash, I made some notes, as well as adding his next appointment to my calendar.
A few hours later and I was done for the day. After two weeks of not having to decide what to eat, I stood in front of my empty refrigerator, assessing my options.
Making something was out of the question. It required going to the store, and I was just too tired. I contemplated ordering some food. Pulling out the drawer filled with takeout menus, I sighed.
Maybe I wasn’t hungry after all. A bath, a glass of wine, and an early night sounded preferable.
A knock on my front door had me scowling. Who would be here this time of night? Who would be here at all? The last unexpected knock on my door was Amber. I wasn’t supposed to see her until tomorrow though.
Cautiously, I walked toward the front door. Whoever stood on the other side knocked again. This time louder and more incessantly. I peeked through the curtain and spotted Kirby Lennon standing there.
Opening the door, she ignored my surprised expression and held out a bag.
“What is this?”
“Food.”
“I didn’t order anything.”
“Someone did.”
I took the bag from her hand and looked inside. Seeing the lasagna, I knew exactly who had ordered the food. Shaking my head, I couldn’t stop the smile.
“Kirby, wait. Let me get you a tip.”
“Already taken care of.” She waved as she jumped back in her car and backed out of the driveway.
Closing my door, I leaned back against it and closed my eyes.
Despite him not being there to answer, I asked out loud, “What are you doing to me, Gunner?”