Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Liam
It’s seven p.m. on Monday, and I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve checked my phone today.
What the hell is it about Athena that has me wound up this tight?
I started my day off right with a decaffeinated coffee and a good morning text to the owner of Wild Lilac.
That was twelve hours ago. I looked at my damn phone every chance I could, but my text is still unanswered.
If I weren’t sitting across from a man who lost his mother three weeks ago, I’d be typing out another message to the woman I was hoping I’d see before the end of the day.
It doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.
“Is your mom alive, Wolf?”
I try to keep my own experiences out of my sessions, but sometimes it’s necessary to share. I nod my head. “Yes.”
“That makes me hate you.”
It’s the first sign of a smile I’ve seen on his face.
Rhys Quillan is nineteen. He’s still living in a world where his parents fill in the gaps in his life.
He’s a first-year student at NYU but he lives at home in a four-storey, brownstone that overlooks Central Park with a staff of five people and a father who hasn’t said a word since his wife died.
Deidre Quillan was everything to her husband and son.
Cancer didn’t give a shit.
“I understand,” I offer. “You hate your circumstance.”
Nodding, he glances at the door. “People around me tell me that it will get easier, but I don’t see it. How? How the fuck does it get easier?”
“Time.” I point a finger at him. “I know you think that’s bullshit, Rhys, but it helps. It doesn’t erase the pain, but you’ll process this. If day-by-day feels like too much, look at it as hour-by-hour or minute-by-minute.”
“I’m dragging my dad down here next week.” He tugs on the arm of the black sweatshirt he’s wearing. “You’ll talk to him, too, right?”
Seeing as how his mom took the unusual step of coming to see me when she was first diagnosed with stage four brain cancer six months ago, I’ll do whatever I can.
Deidre wanted her boys (as she called them) to be taken care of. She pre-paid for more than a year’s worth of sessions for Rhys and his dad.
Rhys took the advice she left him in her goodbye note.
He was sitting across from me the day after her funeral. His dad is a harder sell. He’ll get here, if and when he’s ready.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my thighs. “You know if it works for him, we can meet at the park two blocks from here. He’s got some skills on the basketball court, right?”
Rhys’s mom painted a picture of her husband that was so vivid that I already feel as though I know him.
“You’d do that?” Rhys’s pierced brow pops. “You’re a little taller than him. You’d blow him away.”
Resting back in my chair, I flick a piece of lint off my black pants. “Mention the idea to him and see what he thinks.”
“My time is up,” he says with a hint of resignation in his tone. “I’ll take off.”
Rising to my feet, I offer him a hand. He takes it, pulling himself up.
“This was good, Wolf,” he says quietly. “I’m glad I came.”
“Me too, Rhys.” I pat him on the shoulder as he walks to the door. “Call me anytime.”
The pain he’s in is palpable. I’ll do my best to help ease that, but he needs to do the heavy lifting. He made a step in the right direction today.
Just as I round the corner headed to my apartment building, my phone buzzes with a notification of a new text message.
Like a high school kid with a permanent hard-on for the new girl in class, I whip my phone out of my pocket in record time.
“Finally,” I mutter under my breath, followed by a laugh.
I don’t instant text anyone. If you send me a text message, give me an hour or two to respond before you start giving me shit for ignoring you.
My family is on board with that. My friends get it. The women I’ve dated in the past learn to live with it.
I won’t debate the importance of carrying our lives around in our pockets, but everyone needs a breather from their device.
I try to give myself at least an hour a day for that. It’s more if I’ve been pulled through the wringer at work.
I read the text message I’ve been waiting all day for.
Athena: Good evening. I can’t say good morning because it’s way past morning. Where did the day go?
I respond because I want to know more, about her day, and her.
Liam: Where are you now?
Way to pace yourself, Wolf.
I wait for her to answer, but when a minute passes with nothing, I head up to my apartment.
Once I’m inside, I rid myself of the button-down shirt I’ve been wearing all day. My belt hits the floor too before my pants, socks, and shoes follow.
I adjust my dick inside my black boxer briefs.
That semi hard-on problem is back in full force.
Just thinking about Athena is all it takes.
Athena: I’m at the shop. I have a private consult at 8 for a 50th birthday party next month.
As much as I’d like to see her tonight, I’m beat and she’s busy.
Liam: Do you want to catch a movie one night this week?
I haven’t been to the movies in years, but there’s something alluring about the idea of sitting next to Athena in a darkened theater.
Her response isn’t immediate. I wait with my phone in my hand, tapping my toes on the floor.
I need to shower and eat.
I should toss my phone on the sofa and get back to my life.
Athena: Later in the week works for me. I have a drop-in class tomorrow and another one on Thursday. Flower arranging classes here at the shop so I’m busy.
I’m pulling the evening shift on Wednesday, so I move to firm up Friday now.
Liam: Let’s do Friday.
Athena: Friday is good. Pick me up at 8 at Wild Lilac?
Typing out my response, I smile like a fucking idiot.
Liam: I’ll see you at Wild Lilac.
Tomorrow. I don’t add that to the text, but that’s my plan. I’m all for learning new skills. Flower arranging may come in handy someday.