Chapter 25 #2
After closing her files, she offers me a sympathetic look.
“You’re a smart man and an experienced counselor.
You know that no matter how much we talk about it, you’ll never be able to change what’s already happened.
But if you let me, we can figure out how to change where you are.
If you let me help you, I can help you get where you want to be. ”
We make arrangements for an appointment next week. Walking out the door, the bright sun blinds me. On the short walk back to my office, I think about her parting words. Where do I want to be?
Eight years ago, most days, I felt like I was barely breathing.
Getting out of bed and showering every now and then was a major feat.
Receiving a letter at the end of the fall semester of my sophomore year telling me that I had one more semester to pull my grades up before I got kicked out was my first motivation.
I wasn’t going to let Shane’s death be in vain.
I was going to fight my hardest to prove that his memory could live through me.
But, getting over Shane’s death was all superficial.
I graduated college, got a job, helped others, but never helped myself.
Can I say what prompted me to get help now?
No, not really. I guess there is a certain point at which too much time spent alone really is too much.
Rounding the corner, my thoughts stray to Matt.
There was nothing wrong with him, but there wasn’t anything special either.
He wanted more, a house, kids, and the whole shebang.
I want that, too, eventually; I think. But it’s a definite certainty that I don’t want that now, and I didn’t want it with Matt.
He was a good enough guy, but “good enough” isn’t how I want to spend the rest of my life.
As I walk back through the office, Reid pops his head out of his cubicle.
The second my ass hits my chair, he’s walking through my door.
He’s moved beyond the pleasantries of an invitation.
Resting his ankle on his knee, he leans back in the chair as if he owns it.
He may as well; he’s in here just as much as I am.
“Can I help you?” Sarcastically, I prompt him to start talking when the silence becomes a bit too much. He shakes his head, and drops a file on my desk.
“We meet with Calhoun High School tomorrow about the Hernandez kid. I thought we could review some stuff.”
“We both know these files inside and out. What do you really want?” Of course, he gets nothing but the “cut the shit” look from me.
“How’d it go, with Dr. Baker?” Reid at least has enough good sense to cut to the chase.
I didn’t tell anyone that’s where I was going, so unless Braden developed an ability to speak in full sentences instead of “uh huhs” overnight, I’m not sure where he’s getting his information from. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You left about an hour ago. You walked. You seem more on-edge than when you left. So let’s just say I’m that smart and put it all together. Oh, and you wrote it on your calendar.” Smugly, he chuckles as he watches me shift uncomfortably in my chair. “So, how did it go?”
Shrugging, I admit, “Okay, I guess.” Having barely sorted out how I feel about it, I honestly don’t have much to say to Reid about it.
“You’ll go back?”
“I have an appointment next week, so yeah.” Relief replaces his smugness. “Why are you so worried about my mental well-being suddenly?” I ask, and even though his concern isn’t grating on my nerves necessarily, it’s definitely something I’ve noticed lately.
I half-expect him to tell me to shut the fuck up, but a serious look takes up residence on his face.
“We both lost him, maybe not in the same capacity. But I lost you, too. You just up and left. Maddy and Braden have changed my life in the best ways possible and I see how unhappy you are. I just want to see you happy, that’s all.
So if it means annoying the shit out of you about talking to someone and dealing with whatever is going on in your head, then that’s what I’ll do.
I’m not going to let you fade away and miss out on the life you deserve all because of something over which you had no control. ”
His raw honesty cuts through me. His thoughts reflect my own and help abate some of the guilt I feel over moving on.
“Plus, you’ve been kind of an asshole lately.
” He laughs, standing from his chair. “You might want to work on that while you’re there, too.
” I grab the squeezy stress ball next to my phone and chuck it at his head as he walks toward the door.
He turns back to me after it hits him, and he bends to pick it up.
When he looks over at me, he’s trying to stifle a laugh. I shrug. “What? I didn’t do it.” He tosses the ball back at me, and by “tosses”, I mean launches it right at my face. At the last second, I duck and it misses me, bouncing off the window behind me.
When I pick my head up from under my desk, Reid is laughing his ass off. “What? I didn’t do it,” he quips and we both share a loud chuckle.
Though I try to concentrate on my work the rest of the day, I find it nearly impossible with Dr. Baker’s and Reid’s words replaying in my head.
It’s five o’clock before I realize it. As I’m packing to go home, my cellphone buzzing from an incoming text pulls my attention out of those thoughts.
It’s from a number I don’t recognize, but the “how’s the shoulder?
” question lets me know it could only be one of two people.
And I highly doubt Eddie the trainer would be texting me.
Rather than being annoyed that he’s somehow gotten my number, I find myself smiling at my phone like an idiot as I type out my response.
Good. How’d you get my number?
Membership paperwork. Is that okay?
Yeah, a bit stalker-like, though. Wouldn’t you say?
My parole officer says texts are fine.
I laugh and lean back in my seat.
It’s when you show up at my office that we’ll have a real problem, right?
I already know where that is, remember?
Besides, it’s only a problem if you want me to go away.
A few seconds pass before another ping alerts me to another text.
Do you?
I let my defenses down and in a moment of weakness, or bravery depending on how you look at it, rather than a sarcastic come back, I go for honesty.
No. I don’t want you to go away. My finger hovers over the “send” button for a second, before I decide to go for it.
Good. Dinner then?
A rush of excitement catches me off guard. There’s something about being around Conner that challenges me, makes me feel alive, turns me on. But wanting to keep him on the edge of his seat, I wait a minute before responding.
Sure. When?
His response is immediate.
Now. I’m outside.
Falling off the wagon, huh? Should I let your PO know?
I’ve kept him informed. Come down.
Now.
Pushy much?
Please.
There, is that better?
Much.
I’ll be right down.
My heart hammers in my chest as I take the elevator down.
I don’t know much about Conner, but, at least based on his impromptu visit, I know enough to expect the unexpected.
Whether it be his concern for my injured shoulder, or his kindness in making sure I got home safely, it’s safe to say I want to know more.
When I step outside, the unexpected is exactly what I get. “A motorcycle?”
“A Harley, actually.” He smiles proudly, swinging his leg over the seat.
We’re in that odd stage. Unsure of how to greet one another, I step to his side and walk around the bike, pretending to inspect it, like I have any idea what I’m looking at.
I might not know a single thing about bikes, but this one is definitely high-end, possibly custom made.
It’s black and chrome with deep red flourishes as trim.
The bodywork matches his helmet, which is tucked under his arm.
We stand, facing one another, the bike between us.
His leather jacket pulls tightly across his muscular chest and arms. Loose fitting, dark-wash jeans cover his thick legs.
His dark brown hair is messily styled. I can’t deny the physical reaction I have whenever I see him.
It’s impossible not to, especially when he looks like that.
Though, if I’m reading him right, the way his eyes are scanning over me indicate that he’s dealing with the same reaction.
I tip my head over to my car which is parked a few spots away. “So I guess I’ll meet you there.” Conner chuckles as he steps around the bike. He unstraps an extra helmet from the back of the seat.
“Nope, you’re riding with me.” He holds the helmet, waiting for me to take it.
“Unless of course, you don’t want to.” His eyebrow arches suggestively as he waits for me to take it from him, which I do, of course.
“I thought this might be fun,” he says by way of explanation, tossing his leg easily over the seat.
I stand there, amazed with the ease of his movements, the smoothness of his attitude and the carefree tone of his words.
He pats the seat behind him. “Come on, Dylan. I won’t bite.
” He winks before adding, “Unless you want me to, but that’s more of a third date revelation. ”
I laugh and shake my head before pulling my keys out of my pocket. After dropping my briefcase off in my car, I slide the helmet into place and join Conner on the bike. His voice echoes in the helmet. “You ready?”
I nod, non-verbally answering him. I hear his laughter in my helmet again and that’s when I piece it together that there are microphones and speakers in the helmets so we can communicate. “Yeah, I’m ready,” I answer, finally.
He laughs again, shaking his head. “Okay, but you might want to hold on.”
“As long as you don’t drive like you did the other night, I should be just fine back here,” I joke, but to be honest, I’m not sure if I can handle being pressed up against his back, being wrapped around his body.