Nine
H er office was nice, you know, calming and comfy looking. Nice pictures on the wall. Shit, I knew I was distracting myself rather than focusing on what was actually happening.
Lissa gestured to the leather sofa, and dropped into the seat which was angled beside it. I couldn’t look at her as I sat down. I looked everywhere else instead. There was a discreet box on the wall, with a large button, and it was positioned so she could reach it easily. In the end, lacking anything else to say, I nodded at it.
“Panic button?”
She grimaced. “It’s too obvious, isn’t it? Ice insisted, you know how bossy he can be, I’m sure. It was this or him sitting in the damn corner for every appointment.”
I smirked because I could even hear him saying it in my head, like I’d been there. He hadn’t changed a bit, even with his drug habit hopefully being a thing of the past. He was still a cranky bastard, although… the new look was a change. He’d shaved his head at some point, and clearly liked it, because he was keeping it incredibly short, a very close buzz-cut.
I felt that familiar trickle of fear down my spine, as I considered my own hair. If I had to have treatment, I could lose my hair. I wouldn’t look like me anymore. The thought had nearly led me to shave my own hair off, but in the end I’d settled for shaving my beard away, and instantly hated it. It was taking far too long to grow back, but if I had certain treatments, would my beard disappear just like the hair on my head? I’d look like an overgrown baby.
“Stitch?”
I blinked, shaking myself free of my thoughts.
“Sorry. Uh… got a lot going on in my head.”
She inclined her head slightly. Agreement? A royal fucking pardon?
“So, I know a little about what’s going on with you. As in the little bit that Reacher was willing to share, in order for me to know whether I can help you or not-”
“And can you?” My interruption was out of character. Rudeness, particularly against women, isn’t my thing. I try not to even swear too much around them.
She didn’t even react. “I think so. Mostly what I do is listen, Stitch. I let people talk, and they can share as little or as much as they want. Sometimes just saying things out loud is enough to start them on the path to healing. Sometimes it takes more.”
“Healing? Yeah, see I’d love to fucking heal, but it’s not on the cards for me.” See? I’m definitely not myself. Swearing at a woman?
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t curse at you.”
She shrugged. “I’m not some delicate flower, Stitch. I don’t take offence. Most people swear when they express themselves, when they dig into their inner thoughts and fears. Just tell me however it comes out. I promise I won’t judge you for any of it.”
Anger came out of nowhere, and I slammed the coffee mug down, as I stood up again, pacing the room as I tried to contain it.
“It’s okay, Stitch.”
“IT’S NOT FUCKING OKAY!” I roared back at her, and then I covered my face as I felt the burn of tears in my eyes, as my throat tightened up. Don’t fucking cry. Don’t cry. It doesn’t fix anything.
She was quiet for a while, then she leaned over and calmly poured a glass of water.
“I’d like you to sit down, please, Stitch. Drink some water, and take a few breaths. I don’t think the caffeine was a good idea.”
I fell back onto that sofa like my strength had all disappeared in an instant. Was that how it’d feel when the cancer had eaten up every shred of me from inside, and I was just a husk?
A sob choked out of me, and I covered my face, taking deep breaths.
“That’s good, Stitch. Just breathe slowly, and another. Perfect. Try sipping some water now, please.” I followed her directions, because autopilot was easier. Don’t think, just function.
As I sipped, she poured a glass of her own, and I caught the slight tremble in her hands as she did. I’d scared her. Of course I’d fucking scared her. I’d scared me .
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded. “I’m not going to say I understand, because there’s no way I could, but I want to help. Talk to me, Stitch.”
I drained half of the water, and stared at the glass as I leaned back.
“I’m not good at talking about personal shit, you know. It’s a guy thing.” She was nodding, but didn’t speak, so I continued.
“I think mostly I’m really angry, and… I… a lot of it is, uh. Fuck it. I’m scared, I’m fucking terrified. I know I’m dying, and that should be it, right? Like if you know your days are numbered, then fucking live them while you have them, but… I don’t know, it’s like…” I trailed off, surprised I’d even said that much.
Lissa cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Stitch. I can’t imagine what this is like, but can I ask… have you had some kind of update from the hospital that you’re keeping to yourself? Reacher led me to believe you’re waiting to hear some results, but you’re talking like you’ve already had bad news.”
Cammy
N ormally these sessions would be an hour tops, and more often than not, they were cut short, either by angry clients storming out amid their attempts to talk through their issues, or on rare occasions, because of threat to the therapist. I really hoped that wasn’t the case here.
As promised, Reacher had shown up, and was sitting at the desk beside me, like he wanted to be as close as possible. To my offer of coffee, he’d closed his eyes, sighing briefly, before he asked for water instead. Maybe he needed coffee addiction therapy, was that even a thing?
“You think she’s okay in there?”
Reacher glanced at the door again, like he wasn’t watching it ninety percent of the time already. He really didn’t look worried.
“Stitch isn’t violent, and he’d never hurt a woman.”
Hmmm… “So you’re here because…?”
He was rubbing at his eyebrow, at the piercings there, and he saw me notice.
“I know, I know. Apparently it’s a coping mechanism, or some shit. Lissa spotted that too fast too.” He was grinning as he spoke. I think he’d actually grown quite fond of her, and I could easily understand why. She was the kind of person who attracted others. Her kindness, and her sweet nature, made her easy to love, and sadly just as easy to break down, as our bitchy ex-boss had done time and time again.
“You were saying Stitch isn’t a psycho?”
Reacher’s response was laughter.
“I definitely never mentioned that word. Is that even a word you’re allowed to use in a place like this?”
“Okay, I’m not sure if that’s called deflecting or avoidance, but you’re doing it, buddy.”
He laughed again. “I like you. You remind me of my… my wife, Ally.” I caught it though, that pause that said he’d changed what he was about to say.
“Not your old lady? I thought that was the term?”
How to make a guy look like you kicked him in the nads in four simple words .
“I’m sorry…”
He watched the door, but I think it was to try and mask his hurt.
“My club voted against her.”
Ouch. I didn’t even know that could happen.
“But they voted in favour of Lissa.”
He nodded. “Hard not to really, she’s Lissa.”
“But your wife?”
He glanced at me. “She’s fucking perfection, but a few of my brothers took offence to her past. I’m working on it though. Marrying her was a dumb act of defiance on my part. If one of them had done it, I’d have called him on it, but I was desperate not to lose her.”
I checked the time again. It was almost two hours he’d been in there. Was it a good sign?
“You do realise I’m not a therapist like Lissa?”
Reacher shot me a sidelong glance.
“I’m aware.”
“You’re telling me stuff that seems private. How do you know I won’t say anything? I mean, I won’t, but you’re trusting me without the assumed safety net of the confidentiality she has to offer.”
“Lissa trusts you, so why shouldn’t I? Besides, we already know everything about you.”
My heart thudded in my chest.
“You what?” Lissa wouldn’t have told them my business, would she? Did they know everything?
“Cammy, we have to know who’s affiliated with our people, so Ice had to do a full background check on you. That means I know a hell of a lot about you, but like you said, I’m not going to say anything.”
He knew. Oh god, he knew.
“You… you have to… oh god.” I stood up, and he reached out, catching my hand.
“Settle down, woman. Ice and me, we’re the only ones who know. He hasn’t even told Lissa. It’s your business, and it’s not a threat to ours, so it stays a secret.”
“But Stitch-”
“Is my VP, and normally he knows everything I know, but I appreciate that this is deeply personal, so it stays secret unless there’s some reason he needs to know in order to protect you.”
“Pro… protect me? No… I’ll run.”