Chapter Twenty
CHAPTER TWENTY
MCKINSEY
I t’s ten minutes before Draven’s scheduled appointment time, and I’m still wondering if he’s going to show.
There hasn’t been one text exchanged or phone call made since I left him yesterday. Nothing to give me an idea of where his head is at or whether he’s coming or not. As a therapist, I expect a patient to call if they aren't going to make it. So if this were a normal situation, I’d assume he’s going to show.
But as an anxious girl who hasn’t fully crawled out of her freak-out over the fact that the guy she just slept with still hasn’t called her, I don’t know what to think. I hate being that girl. This shouldn’t affect me the way it is. But there is a reason I don’t sleep with very many guys—or meet very many guys to begin with—and this has a lot to do with it.
Despite their utter horror and worry over my unwanted love interest , Marissa and Olivia helped me realize what I’ve been denying since the moment I woke up in his bed.
I like him, and I’m terrified he doesn’t like me back.
Somehow over the course of time since we first met, Draven has needled his way into my heart. He’s taken parts of it, small piece by small piece, threat by threat, suggestive glance by suggestive glance. The scoundrel hasn’t stolen all of it yet, but, God, do I feel like he could.
It’s been a very unconventional wooing, but I don’t think he would have hooked me otherwise. I’m not the sunshine and rainbows type—neither is he from what I’ve learned about him. Maybe that’s why he’s been the one and only person to work their way in as far as he has.
Sitting in the chair in my office, I stare at the side of the couch he’s occupied each time he’s been in here, and I make a decision.
Draven has taken the initiative to be here, even when we didn’t have an appointment scheduled. My stomach flutters at this fact. It’s something I didn’t think about before.
I’ll give him until ten after six. That’s ten minutes after his appointment time. If he doesn’t show, I’ll take it as a sign that this has come to an end. I’ll allow myself to wallow in what could have been—and the heart-stopping sex that can be no more—for the rest of the night. Tomorrow, I will wake up a new person, having expelled Draven from my heart.
If he does show?
Well, that’s a bit more complicated. So much so, I feel like it requires a flow chart.
What would that look like?
Draven shows up.
Then what?
Option one: he’s here for therapy, but he doesn’t have any interest in me otherwise.
Option two: he’s here for therapy, and is interested in a casual fling.
Option three: he’s here for therapy, and he wants to possess my mind, body, and spirit until the final days of my life.
This is part of the reason why I’m afraid to open up to him. He will undoubtedly find out what a complete nutcase I am.
I guess if he does show up I should, at the very least, be proud of him for wanting to continue his therapy. If he doesn’t want to have anything to do with me on a more personal level, then I will tug on every bit of professionalism I still possess—the amount is questionable, at best—and bury my feelings.
The sound of my doorbell chime rings through my house, startling me in my seat. Jumping out of my chair, I’m thankful there aren’t any windows in my office facing the front of the house.
When I turn the corner and lock eyes on him, I’m annoyed that I can't tell what he’s thinking. But I’m also thoroughly turned on by the way he’s leaning against the door frame with one hand up against the house and the other down by his side. He seems nervous by the way he’s flexing his fingers. I catch their movement and feel the heat in my cheeks.
We don’t offer each other a smile in greeting, and he looks as annoyed by that as I am. Swallowing through my trepidation, I open the door and let him in.
“Hi.” I almost cringe at how uncharacteristic of me my small, meek voice is.
“Hey.” Draven practically whispers. It’s like he’s afraid to speak too loudly and scare me.
“Um, come on in?—”
“We need to talk?—”
We speak over one another, and before he can tell me he’s done with me—that I’ve fucked him up more than helped him in any way—I blurt out my innermost fears. The ones I had every intention of keeping locked tightly inside of me, as though not opening up to him about why I push him away would be the answer to our problem.
“I have trust issues, Draven. Major. Trust. Issues. When my dad left, his rejection and absence created a sickness inside of me that I’ve struggled to cope with ever since.”
When he tries to interrupt me, I put my hand up, stopping him.
“Please. Please just let me get this out before I clam up and make you leave. I owe you that much.”
Nodding, he allows me to continue.
“I lost my virginity too soon because I thought the guy I was with would leave me if I didn’t. I woke up alone, and he didn’t want to have anything to do with me after that.”
Anger passes over his eyes, and I see him clench his fists in my peripheral vision, but he remains silent.
“I’ve only been in a couple relationships since then. But I fucked them up, too. The first I was too clingy, scared out of my mind that I wasn’t going to be enough for him. I tried to do everything I could to keep him from becoming unhappy with me. He ended up leaving because I was suffocating him.”
I lower my head when I can’t stand looking at the pity in Draven’s eyes any longer.
“I was in so much pain, it took years for me to work up the courage to try again. The next relationship I had, I tried to play it cool. I took it easy and made sure I wasn’t crowding him. I let him take the lead in everything, pushing my own wants and desires to the side. He left, telling me it was like I had no soul. He said he felt like he was trying to resuscitate a dead person.”
When I mistakenly glance back at Draven, the pain in his stare nearly guts me. His fingers twitch like he wants to reach out to console me, but he also doesn’t want to spook me.
I silently plead with him to follow his instincts. But he stills his movements, letting his fear win. I can’t blame him. I’m sure that the behavior I’ve shown him up to this point leads him to believe I don’t want or need his affections.
“Between my father’s abandonment and being too scared to allow myself a chance at a healthy relationship, I began to question every move I made. I’ve challenged every decision I’ve made regarding you, out of fear that my feelings won’t be returned. But I’m also scared because I know you’re fragile right now. And because I don’t know a thing about you. My only deductions are based on things I’ve witnessed while at your compound or conclusions I’ve drawn from my sessions with Harleigh and Delilah.”
I’m so far gone, not even fear for my own life can stop me from telling him the truth. From admitting I may know more about him than he wants me to. But the softness in his eyes doesn’t indicate that he thinks I’m a threat to himself or the club, so maybe that’s one step in the right direction.
“And I feel like a shitty person and a horrible therapist because my problems seem so utterly shallow compared to others… Like Delilah’s and Harleigh’s… And yours.”
Wincing, he finally speaks.
“First of all, I of all people know how much something that happened in your childhood can affect every decision you make for the rest of your life.”
He sounds like the therapist now, and it makes me feel even worse.
“The other night, I asked you to take a chance on me. That means not assuming I’m just going to abandon you. I never asked for anything serious, we barely know one another. All I’m asking for is a chance to get to know you.”
That seems … reasonable. More like the Draven I dealt with in the past, before his recent breakdown. But my past relationships started reasonably, too.
He takes a step toward me, wraps my hands in his, then pulls me closer to him. His honey-brown eyes are warm, making me want to melt into him.
“I get it if there’s something you’re afraid of that’s keeping you from being vulnerable around me. I’m scared too. The feelings I have for you are different from any I’ve felt before. And it may be a mistake, letting you know that I have any type of feelings for you, but it’s worth it to me to see if this can be what I believe it can be.”
Biting his lip, his gaze drops to the floor as he fights to find a balance between saying too much and not saying enough. His words touch my heart in a way no man has been able to before. I lean into him, fucking swooning because of it.
But I hate that I scare him. That I’m making him question himself. To make up for it, I lay my hand on his arm, offering him some of that vulnerability he mentioned.
“That’s incredibly sweet of you to say. Thank you.” Taking my hand back, I tuck my hair behind my ears. “And I do want to give you a chance, Draven. I meant what I said the other night. Just like I meant it when I said I’m a lot of work. I’m not saying we’re going to make it—I can be both terribly grumpy and selfish. But I promise I’ll try. Because whether I want to admit it or not, there is something in you that I find I can’t run away from. And it’s not the fear of Royce I get every time I consider trying to back out of my forced ties to the club.”
He laughs softly at my attempt to lighten the severity of our conversation.
“Just for the record, you aren’t now and never have been in any danger from the club. I meant what I said when I told you you were safe with me. Plus, Delilah has such a vice grip on Royce’s balls, he wouldn’t dare make a move against someone who has helped her the way you have.”
“At least I’ve helped someone .”
“You’ve helped Harleigh. Maggie.” He trails his knuckles along my jaw, and it’s as though he’s flicked my clit with his tongue. Fuck. “You’ve helped me, Doc. More than you could possibly know.”
“Can you promise me something, Draven?”
“Anything.”
Here I go, being selfish again.
“I have no right to ask this of you. But I feel like I’ll be paralyzed, forever in a state of fear, if I don’t.”
“What is it, Kins?”
My eyes close as my heart beats faster.
“Don’t give up on me.”
Closing the distance between us, he cups my cheeks before uttering words that I will cling to for the rest of my life. “I will never give up on you.”
And then he kisses me.