Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
preston
I wasn’t surprised when Mia booked Dr. Beck for me. I did the same research and found the same result: Beck is the best at what she does.
No one knows I’ve been doing therapy, and I wanted to give Mia this win, so I didn’t tell her. Instead, I told Beck and her team. Then I cancelled my next appointment and pretended this was my first. Following Mia’s plan to a T.
I like it here. The room’s always quiet and warm. Honest, too. No fake plants, no inspirational quotes on the wall. Just a chair I hate and a woman who sees too much.
Dr. Beck greets me with that unnervingly calm voice of hers. “How are you doing today, Preston? Have you worked on the guilt this week? Done the exercises?”
As per our weekly routine, I exhale slowly through my nose. She calls it grounding. I call it surviving the first ten seconds.
The damn chair groans beneath me. I shift, jaw tight, knuckles pressing hard into the armrest.
“I guess I’m still stuck on how fucking stupid I feel.”
She doesn’t flinch. Just folds one leg over the other, notebook untouched.
“For?” she asks.
My eyes drift to the small window too high to see out of. Maybe that’s the point. It forces you to look in.
“For wasting so much time doing what I thought was decent. Being… honorable.” I scoff.
“The good guy. I always did what was right by her. Always. Not because I was in love, but because I was horrified of being the man who left. I mistook endurance for love and called it honor. But I’m done confusing those. ”
My throat locks. I scratch my beard, press the heel of my palm to my chin as I lean on my knees for support. This room is not about feeling comfortable. At all.
“I really thought I was happy,” I say, quieter now.
“Thought life was about that. Marching forward. Head down. Eyes on her. On Lily. Never looked at myself. Never, for a second, had I stopped to consider what I wanted, only that I had to keep going. Because that’s what good men do.
” I huff a humorless laugh. “On paper, we looked happy; at home, we were transactional and resentful.”
Dr. Beck waits.
I like that about her; she doesn’t push.
I lean forward, hands clasped. My voice cracks more than I mean it to. “But the saddest part? I didn’t notice I was tending to a woman who was miserable next to me. And fuck, I tried. God, I tried. But I guess I loved being her safe harbor more than I loved her.”
Beck shifts slightly, but stays quiet.
“I see now how messed up that was. Thinking happiness is about sacrifice.”
Silence creeps in, and I let it. It’s not awkward in here.
“I had to be abandoned to realize I was never fully… there. Not for myself. Not for her. Not for anyone. I wasn't present enough to claim that.”
Dr. Beck leans in a fraction. “Is that what you were mourning, Preston? Is that why it’s still so hard for you to say her name?”
I nod. Slowly. “People assume I was drinking myself to sleep because I missed her. That I broke down because I lost the love of my life.” I swallow, and it burns.
“I drank out of self-pity, I drank to avoid dealing with the harsh reality of not only telling, but dealing with what that would do to my daughter. But no, I wasn’t mourning…
Blake. We’d been over—quietly, for years—but neither would say it out loud.
I was mourning the idea of who I thought I was.
A good man. The perfect husband. A father to a son who isn’t mine but I still love and miss anyway. ”
She writes something. I don’t ask what.
“It’s hard to say out loud,” I admit. “Harder to admit I buried all that so deep I didn’t even know it was rotting.”
“Is that why you haven’t told anyone you’ve been coming here?”
I lift a shoulder.
“Because April would cry. Callie would try to fix it. And—”
I shake my head, jaw tight.
Beck tilts her head, eyes narrowing slightly.
“And?”
Of course she caught that slip. I let the question sit there and wonder if I’m ready to admit there’s someone new. Someone else whose opinion of me I care about.
“Has something changed recently?”
I wait until the truth settles in my chest. “I met someone,” I say finally.
She doesn’t write it down. Doesn’t blink. Just holds space for me.
“I wasn’t looking for anything,” I add quietly. “Didn’t want it. Really. But it happened anyway.”
My fingers press into my knee. I trace the seam of my jeans, needing something to do with my hands.
“It’s… different. It’s not comfortable. Or safe. At all. It doesn’t fit in my life, but—”
I stop. Jaw clenched.
Beck gives a small nod, encouraging but quiet. “But it feels good?”
I nod back. Sharp. I’m afraid if I speak again, I’ll say too much. Jinx it.
“I don’t recognize this feeling,” I manage. “It’s not obligation. Or guilt. Or… routine. It’s something else entirely. It’s chosen,” I say, then stop to catch my breath. “It’s brought back my appetite. For life.”
“And that scares you,” she offers gently.
I huff a weird sound, something between a laugh and a groan. “It fucking terrifies me.” I stare at my shoes. “She makes me want to show up, Beck.” The words come out quiet. “Not just go through the motions. Not just be the dependable one. Actually show up. As myself.”
Beck shifts, her pompous smile peeking out while she scribbles something down.
“And you like that? You want that?”
My chin dips again. “I do. A lot. I never stopped to consider that was an option, but she made me realize it is. It’s okay to be me.”
I sit back, heart thudding harder than it should. “I’m forty-three, and I don’t have a fucking clue what love is. Not real love. Not the kind you choose. Not the kind that sees you and stays.”
My voice drops.
“And this? This is so fucking new. So fucking dangerous.”
I press a hand to my chest, just for a second, trying to hold something in. Too late. I’m too far gone now.
“But I think I want her. God help me, I think I want her.” Maybe the reason it’s hitting me so fast is because I’d been empty for such a long time. I shake my head again, softer this time. “Fuck it. This isn’t leaving this room anyway.” I glance up. Meet Beck’s eyes. “I want her, Beck. Bad.”
Not out of penance. Not to fix a story. Because it’s her.