4. Nico
four
Nico
My jaw ticks with every fucking click-clack of the old-fashioned timer.
Ignoring the damn device as best I can, I continue to stare at the stern-looking woman with a silver bob in front of me.
Doctor Lisbon specializes in CBT—cognitive-behavioral therapy. Has a PhD in Behavioral Psychology and a bunch of other stuff with letters too long to list. She’s about my ma’s age, mid to late fifties, and has a no-nonsense demeanor.
The doc stares back at me. Her gaze is penetrating, like she’s trying to read my mind just by looking into my eyes.
I fight the urge to flinch and look away.
Click-clack.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and tension digs its claws in my muscles as the pendulum swings back and forth, counting down the seconds.
I can feel a migraine coming on.
My eyes bounce to the annoying thing on the shelf and back to her. She smirks like she knows I’m about ten seconds away from jumping off this couch and chucking that fucking thing against the wall.
I inch forward in my seat, my hands itching to grab that monstrosity.
“Don’t even think about it, Mr. Romero.” She smirks, knowing she broke me.
Fuck. I hate losing.
Click. Clack.
The metronome on the shelf keeps ticking.
“Let’s start with why you came today.”
Good question. Why the fuck did I come here?
Talia. That’s why.
My damn baby sister convinced me it was time to talk my shit out and let things go. Talia thinks I need to forgive our sperm donor of a father, or some mushy crap like that, so I can move on and be happy.
Talia didn’t have to say the last part, but I know it’s what she and the rest of the women in my family think I need to do too.
I’ve been pushing therapy off for months, but now that Talia’s wedding is sooner than expected, she stopped taking no for an answer and scheduled this session with this hard ass of a therapist. And after our last family dinner, I think it’s time I talk to her too.
“I don’t know.” I dig my fingers into my thigh as the good doc sighs and scribbles something on her notepad.
Come on, dickhead, just spit it out.
Okay, so my sister is right. There are things I need to work through. Like my unwarranted hate towards her fiancé.
It began in college when we played baseball together at Southern California University. I was two years ahead of him and the starting catcher.
Cam walked on as a starting pitcher his freshman year with a 100mph fastball. The golden boy had it all. The arm, the looks, and the supportive dad.
I also thought he hooked up with a girl I sort of cared about. It wasn’t anything special, but I held onto the idea of her choosing him to keep on hating him.
After finishing college, we went our separate ways, each of us playing on Los Angeles’ cross-town rival teams, the Saints and the Evaders.
After a few seasons with the Saints, the team traded me to the Evaders.
I knew it would be hard playing with Cam again, especially after the way I badmouthed him to the media.
But when I learned about him and my sister, I lost it and punched him in the face and ribs after a game.
Reporters caught the entire showdown on camera. Not my finest hour. Luckily, I wasn’t fired, and since then—for my sister—I’ve gotten to know Cam better. He’s a good guy. He loves Talia, and she’s happy as fuck. That’s all I care about.
After talking with Talia, I know I only hated Cam because I was jealous.
It’s pathetic, really.
“If you are serious about working through your trauma, I need you to be honest. It will take time to heal, but it starts with the truth.” Doctor Lisbon clicks her pen.
Click-clack.
Trauma. Is that what they call daddy issues?
“Truthfully?” I arch a brow in her direction. She nods, and for some reason, the gesture feels reassuring. Like she won’t judge me for my answer. “Because my sister made me.”
Doctor Lisbon laughs. “Fair enough. But there must be a reason for her to push you to be here. So, let’s start over. Why are you here, Mr. Romero?”
Her question burns like a hot poker stabbed into my chest.
Fuck it. The sooner I say it, the sooner the negative emotions festering inside me will go away.
“Because I’m angry.” I clench my fists in my lap.
“Why are you angry?”
My palms sweat, and my heart beats in my throat.
I push through the uncomfortable feeling and answer the question.
“Because my deadbeat of a father left my mother when she was pregnant and I was five years old. He left us and started a new family, and I’m angry as fuck.
I’m angry at him for staying with them but not with us.
I hate that, because of him, I push everyone but family away.
I hate taking my anger out on people who don’t deserve it. ”
My chest is heaving as I gasp for air after spewing my deepest insecurities and feelings. All of which I channeled into anger that has simmered inside me for too long.
“Can you give me an example?”
The tacos I ate for lunch churn in my stomach, ready to make a reappearance. I clear my throat. I take a deep breath, hating what I’m about to confess, even though I know this is the only way I can get over all this shit and move on.
Be happy.
“Sure. I took out my anger on a teammate who didn’t deserve it because he’s close with his father.
Because his father showed up. Now, the same man is marrying my little sister, and I don’t want to be angry with him anymore.
My anger has tainted my mother’s opinion of my sister’s fiancé, and it’s hurting her. I don’t want to hurt my sister.”
The sound of my pulse roars in my ears.
“I have to say I’m surprised by your honesty.” Doctor Lisbon taps her pen to her notebook.
“Me too,” I grumble, rubbing at the building ache in my temples.
The doctor chuckles again. “This is a great start, Mr. Romero.”
“Nico. Please call me Nico.”
“Nico it is. This is a great place to start.” Doctor Lisbon explains how CBT will give me the tools to reframe my thought process.
“This won’t be easy, but in time, you will heal.
You will release the anger. You have a busy schedule, so on days when you can’t be here, we will have video sessions. Does that work for you?”
No is my gut reaction, but I’ve made it this far. I’m tired of being angry all the time. Time to move the hell on.
“Yes.”
“Hey, Roberto.” I greet my doorman as I walk into my apartment building.
He grins behind his bushy, white mustache and beard, and claps his meaty hands. “Well, hot damn. It’s my favorite catcher. How you doing, Nico?”
Roberto has been calling me his favorite catcher since I moved into the penthouse.
“I’m good. Getting ready for spring training.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Hope you and the boys can bring home another trophy this season.” Roberto is a lifelong Evaders fan. He used to give me hell when I was with the Saints.
“We’re working on it.” My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I reach for it. My sister’s name flashes across the screen. “I have to take this. See you later, Roberto.”
“Before I forget. Mr. Fischer has movers taking the last of his furniture out of the apartment. They should be done soon, but it might be a little loud.”
Thanks to my overprotective mother, Roberto is familiar with my migraine problems. Loud sounds and bright lights can be triggers.
“I appreciate the heads-up.” I answer my sister’s call as I step into the elevator, swipe my keycard, and press the PH button. “Hey, Lia.”
“Nic!” I pull my phone away from my ear. She’s way too happy. “I’m so glad you answered. How was your first session? Tell me everything.”
Did I mention I also have an overprotective sister?
“It was good.”
“Good like you actually talked to Dr. Lisbon? Or good like you sat there and stared at her the whole time?” My sister knows me all too well.
I chuckle. “I spoke to her. But I’m not telling you a damn thing. That shit is private.”
“Ugh, fine,” Lia whines.
The line goes silent. I pull the phone away to make sure the call didn’t disconnect. “Lia? You still there?”
“I’m here.” Talia sniffs.
“What’s wrong? Is Miller treating you right, or do I have to drive up to Malibu and kick his ass?” My heart races as a million thoughts run through my head.
“No, nothing like that. I’m fine. Cam’s treating me just right.”
I ignore the inappropriate comment Cam makes in the background, and gag into the phone. Talia giggles, and I picture her watery smile and shimmery gray eyes, which are identical to mine.
“What is it then?” I ask.
“I’m just really proud of you, Nic.” She sniffles.
I rub the growing ache in my chest that’s making it hard for me to breathe. The elevator dings, and the doors open.
“I’d do anything for you. You know that.”
“And I’d do anything for you, big brother.” Her words have the vise around my chest falling away.
“Does that mean you’ll dump that chump and move into the empty apartment next door? I’m sure I could work out a rent-free deal with the owner.”
“Anything but that.” My sister laughs.
“Didn’t think so.”
I step into the hallway to find boxes lined up against the wall. Mr. Fischer’s new wife must have finally convinced him to move. If I was him I’d move too. Mrs. Fischer is hot and has boobs the size of watermelons. She’s way too good for the old man.
“Alright, I’m home. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Don’t forget tomorrow is Cam’s bachelor party. You better be there.”
I make a noncommittal sound in the back of my throat. I really don’t want to go, but the entire team is attending, and it would look bad if I bailed. At least I’ll have fun giving my future brother-in-law shit.
“I’ll be there, Lia.”
“You’re the best big brother on the planet.”
I push open the door to my apartment and drop my gym bag onto the floor. “Kiss-ass.”
“I love you,” she sings.
“Love you too.”
I disconnect the call and plop onto the couch. Today was heavy, but somehow I feel lighter. Maybe this therapy thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.