Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
THANE
“It’s eleven o’clock on a Sunday night,” Roger says with his annoying habit of pointing out the time.
I pay him enough that it doesn’t matter what time I call him, though admittedly, I had no idea I’ve been pacing my room for as long as I have.
“Pull back on Charlotte Sinclair,” I tell him. “Don’t rescind the offer but stop pushing. Give her space to breathe.”
“That’s a mistake, Thane. Your father is pushing on her even harder now, and so is hers, but they aren’t the only ones. If you bow out now, one of them will win.” I don’t want to know how Roger has that information. I’m sure he operates outside of my black-and-white lines. As long as I don’t know, I can pretend I’m not part of it.
Only now, an uncomfortable log sits heavy in my gut. Is it because of Lottie?
“I pay you to broker deals on my behalf. I’m telling you to stop the hard sell, so do it.”
I hang up before he can respond.
My hands tap on the stupid dog carrier, where Hercules has been asleep for at least an hour. The muted thump, thump, thump of my fingers against the fabric is oddly calming. Here, in the privacy of my bedroom, I allow the motion to soothe me.
Kara thinks I don’t like her.
Lottie’s father is even more of a piece of shit than I suspected, and he didn’t have all that high a bar to begin with.
Am I any better than him?
I drop onto my bed, drag my fingers through my hair, and tug hard while breathing through my nose.
There’s too much noise in my head, too many voices.
I’m rocking in place when there’s a knock at my open door.
I don’t have to lift my head to know it’s Rafe. Not only does he pop up at the worst possible times, but I have to assume that Kara’s hair will take hours to fix.
“Take a deep breath, Thane.”
Him and his fucking breathing.
I do as he asks. Then I do it again. And again.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” My fingers loosen their grip on my hair as though I have no control of myself. My movements are jerky enough to rustle Hercules in her carrier. She grunts her displeasure. Spoiled little ratdog. “I hurt Kara, and now Lottie is hugging her and making it better.”
“How does that make you feel?”
“I thought you weren’t a shrink?”
“I’m not, but that bachelor’s in psychology comes in handy. How does it make you feel knowing that you hurt your sister?”
My body propels to standing with enough energy coursing through it to set the entire room on fire.
“Hot. It makes me hot, and—I can’t breathe properly. My stomach is cramping like I have to take the most painful shit I’ve ever had. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Breathe, Thane.”
I open my mouth to tell him I am fucking breathing, then stop and inhale through my nose. I’ve raised my voice, maybe even shouted, because now my throat is raw.
I’m more like my father than I want to admit.
“That’s guilt you’re experiencing. And shame, and probably a little self-loathing as well.”
Rafe remains as calm as ever, even as I pace the length of the room, unable to stop my fingers from tapping against the ratdog. The beginning of a tension headache is already crawling up my spine.
I’ve lost control of my body again, no matter how hard I fight.
“It’s a normal reaction, especially since you unintentionally hurt someone you care about, but you can make it go away.”
I stop pacing and deliberately drop my tense shoulders, but the energy settles into my hands. I hate the loss of control more than anything.
“How?”
Rafe tilts his head to the side and studies me.
“How?” I nearly growl at him this time.
“You’ve had these feelings and emotions before. How have you alleviated them in the past?” His posture is nothing like mine. Every muscle I move is jerky and aches, where his movements are fluid and steady.
I want that.
Focus, Thane. Relax your body. Count.
“Um.” Shaking my head, I force my narrator—the voice telling me next steps and what to do—to the back of my mind. He never stops, but I’ve gotten good at compartmentalizing him over the years.
“When was the last time you felt this way?”
Does he truly believe that reframing his questions will make them any easier?
“When Kara found out she had to live with me.”
He nods as if he already knew the answer. “And how did you release this energy and these emotions?”
“I gave her a credit card and told her to decorate her room at my house however she wanted.”
“Take a seat.”
God, I hate being told what to do.
I sit.
“Did it work?”
I stare at his face. None of the flashcards tell me what he’s experiencing. I knew they were a waste of time.
“She decorated her room in all black.”
“But did it make her happy or help her feel secure in your home?”
“How the fuck would I know? Those are questions for her.”
“They’re questions that you, as her guardian, need to ask yourself. You’re ripping your hair out because of the guilt inside yourself. But she’s a teenage girl, Thane. You can’t throw money at her and expect it to heal her pain.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I block out the world and take a deep breath, then force my fear out in words I never say out loud. “I’m not good for her, Rafe. I’m not normal, and I don’t know how to navigate her life. I don’t fit anywhere, and I don’t want her to suffer because I’m always on the periphery of those who are truly living.”
“But no one is truly normal, Thane, and you’re who she needs.”
My eyes pop open at the sound of Lottie’s soft voice.
“Sorry.” She stares at the ugly carpet below her feet. “I knocked and called up the stairs. No one answered.”
I wave her off. She can walk into my home anytime she wants.
Did my narrator really just say that?
“How—” No, that’s the tone people don’t like. I try again. “How’s Kara?”
Lottie’s nose scrunches up, but I still don’t know what that means.
“What is that face?” I ask.
Her gaze snaps to mine. “What face?”
“When you do this.” I scrunch my nose. “Why do you do it?”
She laughs, and the burning in my chest meets water, sizzling until the flame is extinguished.
“I—I really have no idea. Probably a lot of things. Right now, I guess it’s that I’m not sure how you’ll react to what I say next.”
A breeze hits the red embers, stoking the flame back to life. “Just say it.”
“Tone.” Rafe has far too much fun with that word.
“Please, say it.” The words hiss through my teeth. I’m not sure if that’s any better.
“Well, she’s asleep in my guest room. I promised to take her to a salon in the next town over first thing in the morning.”
My fingers begin to tap the four-count I live by, but I ball them into fists and rest them on my thighs. Lottie’s gaze stays on my fists, and I frown at Rafe who shrugs, so I stand and tuck them into my pockets. Some help he is.
“Do you hide from everyone in your life, Thane?” she asks.
“I don’t hide from anyone.” I almost want to call “tone” on myself, but I bite my tongue.
She places her hands on her hips and juts out a leg. It’s a powerful stance, one that challenges me, and the flames grow hotter. “Then show me your hands.”
“No.”
“Show me your hands.”
“Lottie.” If Rafe meant that as a warning, she doesn’t heed it.
No, this fucking woman stalks closer, bringing gasoline to my fire.
She’s standing too close. Her scent of lilacs overpowers the burning in my nose.
“Your hands,” she demands again, and the voices in my head, the ones telling me I’m broken, damaged, stupid, different, all rage against my skull until I’m sure it will explode.
She reaches for my forearm, lifting my fist from my pocket, and the voices screech to a halt. All I can focus on is the warmth of her skin against mine. Not the burning, itching kind, but…pleasant and calm.
One, two, three, and four. Two, two, three, and four. My narrator whispers the count in the recesses of my mind, ever-present but less in control.
Lottie pulls the other hand from my pocket, steps back, and cradles both of my clenched fists in the palms of her hands.
“Why do you hide this?” She hasn’t lifted her gaze from my hands. “I saw you do it at the farmer’s market too. What happens if you don’t make a fist?”
My throat is dry, so dry it’s painful to even swallow. I can’t speak, and Rafe, for the first time in his goddamn life, stays silent. Maybe the asshole stopped breathing.
I don’t want to explain why my fingers tap a count of four. It’s something I’ve mostly mastered, but nothing is familiar here, and all my safeguards have been left behind.
“Open your hands and place your palms on mine, Thane.”
I don’t register moving until my palm touches hers. A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips when my fingers move an infinitesimal amount, putting pressure on each of hers one after another.
One, two, three, and four. Two, two, three, and four.
“Why do you hide?”
The reply shouts so loudly in my head that I flinch, but Lottie’s soft hands follow mine and gently pull them back.
“His brain is broken, half brain-dead,” I mutter. Closing out the world again, focusing on the press of her fingertips, I fight to mute that voice. “My brain, I’m?—”
“Not your father’s words. Yours. Why do you hide?”
How the hell did she know I invoked my father?
My heart jolts as I open my eyes to find her staring up at me with tears in hers.
“How…” The word is croaked and fragmented.
“Kara told me a lot about your father and what he’s said and done to you both. I’ve lived that life, so I understand. Why do you hide?”
“Because I’m different.”
“Different isn’t bad.”
“Different isn’t acceptable.”
She squeezes my hands with her own. “Says who? Your father…or you?”
“I… Were you expecting me to react poorly to Kara sleeping at your house?”
“I don’t know you well enough to know that answer, Thane.”
That’s not true. She might know me better than anyone ever has.
Lottie lowers her hands, and it takes me a moment to remove mine from midair. They’re suddenly freezing, but I resist the urge to stick them back in my pockets.
“Does it bother you that Kara is at your house?” I ask.
She considers this for a moment, and my flames flicker to life in the silence.
“No, I don’t mind. I understand the need for strong female relationships when you’re her age.”
“But this is another boundary the Wilders are crossing without your permission,” Rafe says.
If I could kill him with my bare hands, I would. In this moment, I swear I would.
Lottie sighs before gracing me with the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen, and the corded muscles in my neck slowly unwind. “They are, but no more so than anyone else in Sweetbriar.”
“I’m not like other people in Sweetbriar.” I’m truly offended by this, and I don’t need to meet Rafe’s gaze to know he wants to tell me to watch my tone again. It’s radiating from his pores.
“No,” she agrees. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met…in the best way possible.”
I stand a little taller as the compliment weaves through my molecules as if they’re a magical cure for all the insecurities I hide.
“You have a nice smile. You should use it more.”
“I want to kiss you.” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why can’t I control my mouth around her?
Rafe chokes on a laugh.
“I’m sure you do, but I don’t date clients, so that’s not happening.” Her voice carries a strange wobble that I think I like.
“It will.”
She backs up a step, and I tell my legs to stay still, even though they want to move with her.
“I’ll make a deal with you, Thane.”
Her smile is directed solely at me, and I press my fist to my chest. What the fuck was that? I’m used to the volcano that lives there—I wasn’t ready for an earthquake.
“What kind of deal?”
Lottie’s lashes flutter, and the crinkle at the corners of her blue eyes narrows, but it still manages to brighten her entire face. It’s as though she’s turned up the sun that rises on her whim. “I’ll help you with Kara.”
“You will?”
She nods. “I will. But you have to do something in return.”
“Done.” I’ll do anything for either of them.
Take her on a date? Help her with her woefully outdated servers? Redesign her website that functions as though a toddler made it? Create a business plan that incorporates all the uses for her technology? Identify who’s penetrating her cloud services? Actually, that one I’ve already started on. It’s like Whac-A-Mole with a fuckwad, but I’ll catch him—I always do. Jesus, I’d do all of this and more if she helps me with Kara.
“You never make a deal without knowing all the facts. You know better than that.”
Lottie Sinclair is scolding me now? She’s right—I do know better. But I have zero hesitation trusting her, and that’s never happened before, not even with Rafe.
“Okay, what are your demands?” I have the oddest sensation that I’m floating, so I surreptitiously check to make sure my feet are touching the ground.
“Therapy.”
“No.” It’s out before I’ve fully registered what she said. Therapy? No fucking way.
“Thane.” She stomps her foot. “Do you want help with Kara or not?”
“You know I do.”
“Breathe,” Rafe says.
I scowl at him. He has the timing of a chimpanzee.
“The only way she’s going to feel safe and secure is if you both seek therapy,” Lottie says. “Separately, and together.”
“No.”
“I’ve been telling you this for years,” Rafe says.
“Shut up, Rafe.”
Lottie is no longer smiling. “If you’re not even willing to consider it, then you’ll have to take her to the salon tomorrow and explain what she wants.”
“What? No. No…” Earthquake, meet volcano.
“Therapy, Thane. I’ve been in it for years, and it will help you both.”
She’s a demanding little thing, and it’s hotter than I want to admit.
“Are you going to come with me?” I ask her, then point an accusing finger at Rafe. “And are you going to be the facilitator?”
Rafe holds up his hands while Lottie laughs.
“I’m not that kind of therapist. I could lose my license for that,” Rafe whines.
“Now you’re worried about the legalities of messing with my head? You’ve been doing it for years, Rafe. Years.”
“I can’t do therapy with you.” Lottie is slowly inching toward my bedroom door.
Lottie’s in my bedroom, and we’re arguing over therapy. What fucking world did I fall into here?
“Yes, you can, both of you, and if I find value in what we discuss as a group, then I’ll find a real therapist.”
“And you’ll do therapy by yourself and with Kara.”
Clearly I no longer need to concern myself with Lottie’s negotiating skills. She’s a goddamn shark.
“Kara is already in therapy twice a week. She does it virtually right now.” I stare at a point on the wall, and my jaw cracks as I clench it. “And I’ll think about it.”
“That’s a good start,” she repeats sweetly. “Rafe, you in?”
“The shit you drag me into, Thane. Seriously. I cannot provide psychotherapy…you need much more than I can offer, but I could guide you through some self-work with meditation—as your friend, not as your therapist.”
Hell, that sounds a lot better than therapy.
“Does that meet your requirements?” My jaw relaxes as I stare at her.
Lottie shrugs. “For now.”
“For now,” I whisper.
“But no more hiding.” She nods toward my hands, and it takes every ounce of strength I possess not to shove them into my pockets and start tapping again.
“I’ll try.”
“Good enough.” She smirks. “For now. And, ah…” She points at the ugly carpet. “This is included in your renovations, correct?”
“You don’t like it?” A lightness fills me. I don’t tease normally, but this feels…fun.
“Not even a little.” She turns toward the door. “I’ll text you when Kara and I are on our way home tomorrow.”
She means our separate homes, but my brain takes that in a radically different direction. One where I knock down both homes and we build something bigger, and better, together. In the background, I’m already sketching designs. In the present, I study her body language as she walks out of the room.
“What’s happening in your mind?” Rafe says quietly.
“I…” I listen for my narrator to give me some direction, but all he does is count. Fucking traitor. The only voice I hear is my own, talking about building a house and going to therapy with Lottie.
“My narrator’s quiet, still there of course, counting, but whispering instead of shouting.”
“Your what now?”
I glare at him. I don’t like being made fun of. “My narrator. In my head? You know, the thing that announces everything I’m doing and everything I need to do before I do it.”
His face is blank. There’s no flashcard for it.
“When you say narrator, do you mean like in the movies? You have a voice that talks to you all the time?”
“Of course I do.” I move to the window, ready to put Hercules in her pen, but stop before I reach the dog crate. Angling my head to the side, I study his face. “Don’t you?”
Slowly he shakes his head.
Just as slowly, something explodes in my mind. What does he mean he doesn’t have a narrator? How does he move from one task to the next?
“Thane, I know you’ve been resistant to this, but?—”
“I don’t need to go through testing for someone to tell me I’m different, or what kind of different, or put me on a scale and say I’m half this and one part of another. I know how my mind works. I don’t need a piece of paper telling the world to give me preferential treatment. I’ve never had it, and I don’t expect it in the future. I manage just fine.”
“It’s not for the world. It’s for you. What if there were tools that made your day easier or less…noisy? What if?—”
“What if they tell me I’m different and everything my father ever said to me is true?”
I hadn’t meant to say that. I hadn’t even known I thought it. But now that it’s out there, I know it’s true.
“I’m thirty-two years old, Rafe. I’ll do whatever kind of hocus pocus you and Lottie require of me to help Kara, but I don’t need a label to tell me who I am, or how I process things. Okay? I know that I’m different. I’ve accepted it. I’m good with it, even.”
My head pounds with exhaustion. Opening the crate door to Hercules’s little bed, I rearrange the blankets and toys but don’t put her in it yet. I’ll wait until Rafe leaves.
When I stand and face him, Rafe throws himself at me like a desperate date from hell.
“You’re the best kind of different I’ve ever known, Thane.”
I grip his shoulders to hold him back, so he doesn’t squash the dog.
“I want you to understand your greatness too,” he tells me.
Shoving him off, I head downstairs to let Hercules outside. But I call back up the stairs, “Do I look like someone who doesn’t understand that I’m the king of my castle, Rafe? A lack of self-confidence is not one of the many issues I have.”
His laughter follows me, and against all odds, I feel my lips curl up.
This started as a night from hell, but it’s ending on a ray of hope I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.
All because of Charlotte Sinclair.