36. Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Six
Elowen Briar
A New Client To Replace The One I Let Go
Sitting in my office, nodding along, my new client vents about her divorce.
Divorce. So messy and a very textbook type topic that I cover.
Unfortunately, it’s NOT easier to give advice on something you’ve never experienced yourself.
There are days when I’m not entirely sure I’m qualified enough for my patients' range of issues. I feel too soft with some clients and harsh with others. The middle ground for all situations is too expected. I carry empathy around like a weighted blanket and sometimes forget that it’s okay to show that I need to do more research to better help them through their journey of mental health.
“He never listens. Golfing is his everything. Our intimacy has tanked drastically in the past year. He drinks his fill on the course and comes home to me. He really expects me to just let him go to bed. I can’t do everything on my own.
” The woman sobs into her hands. I lean across my desk and pass the woman a box of fresh tissues.
A common and well-taken courtesy to all that see me.
It’s my way of hearing you. Seeing you. A basic dignity.
“Why do you think he’s become so distant over time?
Do you have a theory or would you rather I devise my own idea based on the factors of the relationship I know?
” My fingers tingle and ache, the dull pain from hours of typing still pulsing through my hands.
I flex them absentmindedly and mutter only in my mind, “I really need a vacation.” The progression with my hands is becoming more noticeable everyday.
Should I be worried? Another thing to add to the list?
My mind drifts. Beau is right. It isn’t just the typing or the stress.
Money is my biggest problem. I can never get my budget right.
Every time I think I have a handle on it, the numbers shift, leaving me drained and frustrated.
My microwave dinners are supposed to save me, but I’m paying the price for racked up credit card bills, delivery fees, and every little indulgence I tell myself I deserve.
Books. Mostly books. I can e-read, but I enjoy the serotonin of purchasing a deluxe edition or a signed copy.
It doesn’t help that even with Grandma’s house paid off, the utilities are sky high.
Life is so unaffordable for me. Call it what you want, but if I’m dishing out a fourth of my paycheck to utilities, I should be able to comfortably purchase a book to keep myself off the edge.
I shake my head and force myself to focus, reminding the client to breathe and take things one step at a time. I’m not in the right state to be helping her. I’ve not been myself in weeks. I’ve proven that I need a vacation to reset entirely time and time again.
“I’m sorry, Sharon. He sounds like a piece of shit.” I gasp before I can correct my statement. Her tears immediately cease. She actually smiles at me. A look of hope shrouds her eyes now.
“Thank…Thank you. I…I…I needed to hear that from someone else before I could come to terms with it.” Sharon stutters.
“Well, I do apologize for my unprofessionalism, but I stand by my statement.”
“You’re okay, Elowen. Besides, you’re right. He’s…a piece of shit. No excuses necessary. You’re…You’re right.” She swallows back her cry.
“The front desk will get you scheduled for your next appointment. Just let them know if you need virtual or in-person, okay? Take care of yourself until I see you again.” I throw her a thin-lipped smile hoping she hears the sincerity in my voice.
“I will. Thank you. I needed this.” Sharon stands from her chair, reaching out her hand to shake mine, and goes out the door.
I grab my things, being sure to dump my coffee in the work kitchen before heading outside.
As I dump my drink, the “eyes on me” sensation returns.
The hair on my arm stands up with goosebumps underneath.
“Weird.” I mutter to myself. As I walk across the office lot toward my car, the sunlight glinting off the asphalt, I spot Beau leaning casually against his own car at the end of the parking lot.
That car could only belong to one man. A vehicle I had yet to have laid eyes on.
He drives a black ‘71 Chevrolet Nova. Very on-brand.
He watches me with that look that always leaves me flustered.
The faint scent of lust lingers between us.
I would take a public indecency charge if he would give me the chance.
The chills covering my body have now spread and my whole world flips in an instant.
One moment I’m waving at Beau as I walk towards him, the next a voice from behind me sounds.
“Finally,” he growls. A man steps from the shadows of the building behind me.
Not any man. A previous client, his name doesn’t arrive immediately.
I had removed him from my schedule due to sexual harassment over multiple sessions. Grimey fuck.
He lunges, grabbing my arm and pinning me face first against one of the nearest hoods. “Fuck,” he moans, his breath hot against my ear. “Thought you could keep hiding.”
“Let… go of me.” I yelp as he drags his hands along my frame.
I freeze. Panic covering my body and slamming distress signals into me.
My stomach twists as my hands flail, but he has me trapped.
I can’t move. My breath picks up as I writhe.
I’m that same young girl that screamed only to be silenced in the end.
His calloused hands are rough on my skin as he slips them under my sweater.
He gropes my chest underneath my bra and runs his fingers across my nipples.
I can feel his erection press against me from behind as he rubs against me.
I feel vomit start to erupt from my stomach. Nausea consuming me from all angles.
The man stands around a foot taller than me, but still smaller in size than Beau. His hands take up a good portion of my chest and the sheer amount of his body weight presses into me. I start to gag as I try my best to scramble out from under him.
Before I can scream for help, Beau is there. One fluid motion, and the man goes down. I don’t see exactly what happens, just a blur of fists, movement, and then almost near silence from the man he’s beating.
When I blink, the attacker is on the ground, incapacitated, beaten beyond recognition, and Beau is continually wailing into him like his life depends on it.
His fists land hard onto the man’s face.
Blow after blow, blood splatters on top of the black-top, creating contrast against the darker color of the pavement.
Winces and whines fill the parking lot around us.
He yanks the man up to his knees and laces his fingers into his collar, dragging him up to eye level.
Hell hath no fury like Beau Drewitt. Beau looks to me as Benny attempts to stand, but averts his gaze back.
I can tell something changed when we made eye contact.
Beau almost looked to me in a way of checking for approval.
He tosses him back to the ground before spitting at him.
“Get the fuck out of here, you piece of shit. You’ll regret the next time you handle a woman like that.
” He hazily jumps up from the ground, bloodied to a pulp and staggering.
I pay no attention to where he goes. My heart thrums in my chest. My mouth refuses to let me speak.
My whole world feels like I just lost touch with reality.
All I can tell is that Beau is holding my wrist gently, watching my expression with his eyes that bounce from right to left, left to right, quickly turning his gaze sharp and protective.
He searches my eyes again for a moment before finally breaking our silence.
“You’re safe,” he says, voice low and controlled, as if using that sheer force of will of his to keep his own rage in check. He pulls me into an embrace.
“Tell me, are you okay? What can I do? Fuck, Elowen. I’m sorry.” I blank at his questions as he strokes the height of my back. I can only nod, trembling, heart hammering. I can’t speak. Only sobs are released from me. My surroundings swim and I can’t wake myself from this vegetative state.
“I’m okay. I think… I’m okay.” Beau holds me tighter and nuzzles his nose into my hair, releasing a deep breath against me.
He loosens his embrace to help me adjust my clothes and immediately loses his jacket to wrap me in.
He protected me. He beat that guy till he was nearly a different man.
He could change his identity after the beating he just took.
He places his curled finger under my chin and moves my head to meet his gaze. ”I should’ve made it over sooner. I tried. I really did. Fuck. I am so sorry, love. It happened so fast. I froze.” Sooner? It’s a miracle that he was here at all.
He pulls me away from him and holds me at arm’s length.
He looks at me with an admiration I have only ever seen a few times in my life.
At times, his bright green eyes burn fire-like with lust. In other instances, they dance around how a husband watches his bride waltz down the aisle to a song that is only sentimental to the two of them.
He doesn’t know what to say, and neither do I.
He ushers me back to his car, his jacket still tossed over my shoulders, even though the fear of being attacked caused my body to conjure up plenty of heat.
He opens the passenger side door and lets me step in.
When he sits down in the driver’s seat, he looks at me for directions.
I can tell he’s still lost, but shock wreaks havoc inside me.
His eyes begin to memorize every contour of my face.
“I’m okay. I just need a minute.” I brush my hand over my face, wiping it clean of tears.
“I’m sorry, mi tesoro. I’m sorry.” A cold chill runs down my spine, covering my body in goosebumps.