Chapter 13
KC
I read the name printed on the card clutched between my fingers.
A name of a doctor. A doctor who meant nothing to me.
A stranger who was supposed to help me, though I wasn’t sure what with.
As far as I was concerned, I didn’t have an issue.
I’d stopped drinking protein smoothies around my boyfriends.
I’d cut my intake, and while I hadn’t substituted the lost calories with real food, I’d done what I’d said I was going to do.
I was sticking with Hawthorn’s original meal plan we’d worked out.
Yet Pa had still given me the card while Ren and Oli were with me after the game on Saturday night, so now I was expected to call him and make an appointment.
The moment Pa had passed the name over, Oli had given me a particularly pointed look, the kind that told me to do it or he’d rat me out to Ren for drinking smoothies at his apartment.
Logically, I knew he was acting this way because he cared and was worried, yet resentment settled deep in my chest until it became one with my lungs.
Ren was busier, since he had hockey on top of his tattoo parlor.
He was already gelling with his teammates, and I was proud of him.
When he wasn’t practicing, he was working, whether it was tattooing someone or cleaning or looking at the books.
One thing I’d learned about Ren since we’d started dating was that he was a hell of a good businessman.
Even though he had an accountant, he double- and triple-checked everything, and he had a chain of parlors back in LA that he needed to check in with as well.
Ren’s first hockey game had finished an hour ago.
They’d won, so he went out with his teammates for drinks.
He’d asked me and Oli if we wanted to come, but I’d shot him down with the excuse that I wanted to go to bed early.
Oli had agreed with me, but I suspected he wanted to keep a close eye on me because he was currently sitting on the couch with Mr. Wiggles on his lap, peeking at me from the corner of his eye.
“If you want to ask something, do it.” I raised my gaze to him from where I sat at the kitchen table.
Oli scratched his fingers down the ferret’s back and Mr. Wiggles . . . . Well, he wiggled in excitement. It was easy to see how Ren chose his name. “Are you going to call him? It’s been four days.”
“Three,” I shot back. “He doesn’t work on Sundays.”
I searched the doctor’s practice on Google and got a face for the name.
Dr. Bailey Griffin. He was young, probably in his early thirties, but had a caring smile.
According to his biography, he had studied at NGU and he was on the college’s swim team, so he knew about sports.
While he’d majored in psychology as a whole, he’d minored in sport and performance psychology.
I liked the look of him on paper, but I wasn’t so sure about in person.
“Why are you arguing with the technicalities?” Oli grumbled. “You need help.”
I bristled, irritation tingling across my skin.
“I don’t need help. There’s nothing wrong with me.
” I shot to my feet and paced the kitchen.
My feet were bare, which meant I couldn’t stomp the way I wanted to.
“I drank too many smoothies and ended up in the hospital. It was one time. That doesn’t make it a problem. ”
“You’re barely eating, KC!” Oli shifted Mr. Wiggles onto the couch and jumped to his feet, storming toward me.
“When you have anything that isn’t that super healthy stuff your trainer told you to eat, you make disgusted faces like it hurts you.
Everyone needs help at some point, and we want you to get it before this issue becomes a huge problem.
We don’t cook very much, so when are you eating all your healthy stuff? ”
“You can’t talk.” The words tumbled out of my mouth, angry and defensive. I stopped pacing, my spine tight to the point pain lanced across my shoulders. “You’re avoiding your naive mom and useless dad like a fucking coward.”
Oli tensed.
All at once, the reality of what I’d said hit me hard. Each word was poison, and combined together, I’d hit him with a goddamned nuke.
I’d meant to. I’d wanted to hurt him as much as he was hurting me.
At the same time, horror at what had spilled from my mouth struck me. I took a step forward, but he was already shaking his head and shuffling back.
“Oli—”
“Is that what you really think?” His whisper was so fucking loud it was like standing next to a speaker at a concert. The pain written on his face tore me apart, but he didn’t want me anywhere near him, not with the way he sidled toward the door.
“No. I’m—fuck. I’m sorry. That was mean.” I clenched my fist around the card and the corners dug into my palm so deep I wouldn’t be surprised to end up with papercuts.
“I can say a lot of mean things, too, KC, but I don’t because I love you and I never want to hurt you.
I care about you, which is why I want you to see that doctor.
” He pointed at my fist, tears glittering in his eyes.
“I haven’t told Ren what I saw even though I should’ve.
I didn’t even tell your pa. I told no one.
But you need to talk to a professional, someone who can give you the support you need.
Your trainer suggested it, too. And your coach.
They know better than anyone. And I will always be here for you, but I won’t let you treat me like shit.
We all have our own crap going on, and I don’t deserve that. ”
“I know.” Hot tears prickled my eyes and I ground my teeth to hold them at bay. “I lashed out. It was cruel.”
Mr. Wiggles scampered up the back of the couch and reached out his head toward Oli, but Oli ignored him, too busy scalding me with a thousand-yard stare that made me want to collapse on my knees and beg for forgiveness.
“Call him,” Oli said, inching closer to the door. He grabbed his wallet and phone from the bowl on the side table near the front door. “I’m uh . . . . I’m going out. Maybe meet Ren at Sinful.”
“Oh.” Fuck, I’d really messed up. Oli hated clubs, and if he was going there, one of the loudest, most annoying places around, it was because he wanted to get as far away as he could from me.
My chest ached and I gave him a sad smile. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” Then, he snatched a leather jacket—Ren’s—and slid out the door.
As soon as he was gone, I collapsed back onto the seat at the table, face falling into my palms. Nausea swelled low in my stomach, and I bit down on my lip hard enough that I tasted blood.
It was too late to call the psych, but with a shaky hand, I pulled out my phone and opened a new message. I texted the cell number on the card.
KC
Hi, my name is KC Beaumont. My pa, Quain Beaumont, recommended I contact you and set up some appts. Can you tell me if this is possible?
I dropped my phone like it was on fire and it clattered onto the table as I sighed.
My hands shook and I laced my fingers together in an attempt to stop it.
The moment my phone buzzed with a message, I jumped in surprise because I was caught up in the silence and staring at my hands.
I grabbed the phone and opened the reply from Dr. Griffin.
Unknown Number
I have an appt available tomorrow at 11am. Would that be good?
No. Fuck no. Hell fucking no.
I chewed on the nail of my right thumb. This wouldn’t work. It couldn’t work. I’d trained too hard for food to become an issue. Even if I had no future plans for football, I had a scholarship. I refused to fail and become my biological mother.
But . . . I’d hurt Oli. I’d lashed out and said something nasty, and maybe he was right and I did need this. The thought of eating something that wasn’t on my strict meal plan made my stomach turn, which was stupid. Why was this so fucking hard?
With shaking hands, I responded.
KC
Perfect. I’ll be there.
I added his contact info into my phone.
Dr. Griffin
I will see you then. Please come 15 mins early to fill out paperwork. Bring your insurance card.
Simple. It was so fucking simple. So why did it feel so hard?
I found the message thread I shared with Oli.
KC
I have an appt. Tomorrow. Sorry I said that. I love you.
I moved to the couch and sat in front of Mr. Wiggles.
He jumped onto my lap, and I stroked my fingers through his fur, smiling as he settled into a ball and fell asleep almost immediately.
What would it be like to be a ferret? Having no worries other than eating and shitting and mating? That was a pretty great life.
I sat there for half an hour before I decided Oli wasn’t going to respond. As my finger hovered over his contact to call, I took a deep breath. No, fuck this. I locked my phone again. He didn’t want to talk to me and I didn’t blame him. I’d been an ass.
Since we’d begun our relationship, I’d always been the mediator between him and Ren. The levelheaded one who tried to reason. Now I was the instigator, the idiot who’d hurt Oli’s feelings.
It sucked.
I switched on the TV and watched some axe throwing competition as a mindless zombie until the sound of the front door opening startled me.
I straightened, hope blooming in my chest, until it hollowed again at the sight of a stumbling and laughing Ren.
He nearly tripped over the mat at the door and a manic giggle erupted from him.
“Oops. My bad.” He shut the door with a loud bang and winced. “Shhh, Ren. Shhh.”
Despite my mood, the corners of my lips quirked. “How much did you drink?”
Ren’s arms flew up into the air and froze as though I was a cop and he’d been caught breaking the law. A grin spread across his handsome face, all teeth and mischief. “Too many. Waaaaaaaaay too many.”
“I can see that.” I gently moved Mr. Wiggles from my lap to the couch, and while he snuffled, he stayed asleep as I rose. I closed the distance between me and Ren and threw myself at him, burying my face against his shoulder while my arms knotted around his waist.