Chapter 40 - THEO #2
She should get a choice, and she should be able to say no, but I’m such a selfish fuck that I want her to say yes.
I want to give her life back, but I want her to share that life with me.
I want to give her a choice, but I want her to choose me.
I want to give her what she wants, but I want to be what she wants.
I love her, and I am so desperate for her to love me back that I would do anything she asks.
I know she could want me. She doesn’t, but she could.
She’ll say no, and then I’ll kill Danny and then figure out what to do with myself.
I want to fix the mess I’ve made of her life, give her something back, make her happy however I can.
I have no idea what she sees on my face, but eventually her expression becomes exasperated, and she rolls her eyes, sighing and shaking her head.
“I’m fucking insane,” she mutters. What does that mean? She steps into me, grabbing my jaw hard in one hand and yanking my face down towards hers, and I stop breathing. She’s so close that I could kiss her, but I’m frozen as her eyes focus on mine for a long moment.
“Maybe,” she says slowly. “I’ll think about it.”
I can’t believe it. This can’t be happening. This has to be a dream, or another delusion, or something. She backs away from me and walks back to the stove, plating the French toast and speaking quickly, her voice shaking with anger.
“Regardless of whether or not I choose to give you a shot, everything goes. I mean it, Theodore, all of it. No stalking me, no following me, no watching me, nothing. Don’t even think about texting me.
I will be looking for you everywhere, and if I so much as see you at the grocery store while I’m there, I will fucking kill you.
I’m pretty sure you’d just let me at this point. ” That’s probably true.
She pushes a plate of French toast towards me, pointing at me with a fork angrily.
“You’re very lucky you’re good in bed. That is the only reason I’m even thinking about it.” I watch as she skates her teeth over her bottom lip because she’s lying, and hope blossoms in my chest. She’s absolutely going to give me a chance.
“Sweetheart,” I reach out for her, but she shakes her head hard and flinches away from me.
“Don’t even fucking think about it. You need to earn everything, if I even feel like letting you.
” She looks down at the plate of French toast and shrugs a little, her shoulders dropping.
“Except this, I guess,” she says, her voice soft.
“I already made it for you.” I blink at her, confused. She made it for me?
Alex, who staunchly refuses to do anything close to cooking, made me food.
I’m frozen to the spot as I watch her take her plate to the dining room and start to eat, frowning down at the plate angrily.
“I swear I used to be really good at this,” she says, almost to herself.
I stare down at the plate of food she’s shoved towards me, taking a slow bite.
The toast is a little too dark, she went heavy on the cinnamon, she drowned it in maple syrup, and she didn’t even sauté the bananas, but it’s fucking perfect.
It could be burnt to a crisp and still be the best thing I’ve ever eaten.
I stay in the kitchen, eating slowly while I watch her stare out the window at the paling sky, her frustrated face becoming more illuminated as dawn creeps on.
She’s going to let me try, I’m fucking positive. She’ll let me try to give her what she needs, try to be what she needs, try to salvage the colossal fucking mess I’ve made. I don’t deserve her, but I’m going to try – right after I figure out whether or not this is happening.
I’m not entirely sure this is happening.
I might need to talk to Dr. Mills.
That is going to suck.
***
We pack up and leave after eating. We don’t talk at all, and Alex barely looks at me. During the drive, we listen to a program on public radio about therapy programs for inmates, and Alex keeps shooting me an irritated and slightly amused look.
The closer we get to Astoria, the more nervous I get. When I follow her up to her apartment, my anxiety is so bad I’m on the verge of a panic attack.
I want this. I want her. I’m so lucky she’s even considering giving me a chance, but I don’t want to lose this access to her. Alex gives me a hard look, and I sigh and start to pull the small cameras down.
She’s looked for them before and never found them, so she follows me around, looking to see where I hid them, constantly asking me if there are any more.
She only stops when I pull up the camera feeds on my phone, showing her there are only the ones in her office and the rec center left, which I tell her I’ll grab tomorrow.
I uninstall the hidden tracking apps on her phone, slip the microtracker out of the back, and go through her laptop and remove the programs I installed.
She makes us some tea and sits down next to me, peering down at her laptop with mild curiosity as it reboots.
I look at the tracking chip on the table and smash it with the edge of my empty mug.
“The little tracking chips? How many?” Her voice is suspicious, and my jaw clenches as I look at her.
“That’s going to take a while.” I get tweezers from her bathroom and grab my phone, starting to pull them out of hems and linings and shoes, breaking them as I go, leaving a growing pile on her dresser.
She leans against the door, watching me with raised eyebrows.
“You are terrifying, you know that? You should still be in prison,” she says, but there’s no heat to her voice. If anything, she’s teasing me. I rub the back of my neck, shame thick in my stomach.
“Yeah, I’m realizing that.”
She eyes the pile of trackers on the dresser thoughtfully. “Is that all of them?”
I look away from her and think about the last one. I should tell her, but she’ll freak out and leave for good if I do, and I’m not jeopardizing any possible chance with her.
It’s also the only way I have left to make sure she’s safe.
I am going to take it out, I just need to figure out when. It’s okay if it takes me a while to figure it out, right?
I nod to myself, but she takes it as an answer to her question. She walks over to me and leans her head on my arm, trailing her fingers down my spine as she looks at all the broken trackers.
“Teddy?” She sounds so sweet right now, and hope races through my body. I think she still wants this. Maybe she’s already decided to give me a chance. Maybe she’ll ask me to stay. Maybe we can talk, and I can try to fix this right now.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Can you leave me alone now?” My heart sinks as she holds her hands out for my copy of her keys.
***
I get to see Alex the next day when I take the cameras out of her office, and she doesn’t speak to me at all, but she accepts the coffee and pastry I bring her with a small smile.
I leave to take the cameras out of the rec center, and when I text her to show her that all the feeds are dark, she doesn’t respond.
Days pass, and she doesn’t talk to me at all.
I try extremely hard not to check on the tracker.
I don’t really sleep, I don’t really eat, I just stay in my house and do anything I can think of to deal with my anxiety, but it doesn’t work. Every day that passes convinces me more and more that she’s not going to give me a chance.
I start to lose my mind a little bit.
***
“Can you stop asking me stupid questions already? Just do your fucking job and help me fix this.” Dr. Mills raises her eyebrows at me in reproach for snapping at her, but I don’t apologize.
“Theodore, that’s not my job. My job is to help you build a healthier relationship with yourself and help you manage the stresses of reintegration, and there’s more to both of those things than your relationship with Alex.” I force myself to take a breath and try a different approach.
“Fine. Will you please tell me how to fix this?” I hear how frustrated and desperate I sound, but I don’t care.
I am desperate.
“I think the way to fix the situation is to work on yourself, do some healing, get a broader life, and come back to this when you have your feet more firmly on the ground.” I look up at the ceiling and cross my arms over my chest, shaking my head at her.
“I don’t even know why I thought you would help me,” I mutter, and Dr. Mills sighs.
“Theodore, I’m trying to help you. Right now, it sounds to me like neither you nor Alex have had enough time and healing from your individual traumas to be in a healthy relationship.
It’s not my place to give my opinion, but if you’ll allow me to say so, I think it would be wise for both of you to take some time away from the relationship. ” Panic grips my heart at the idea.
“That is not a fucking option,” I snap.
“Do you see that it could be an option, at least?” I drop my head into my hands, pushing my hair back and groaning in exasperation.
“Yeah, I do, I really do, but I’m a selfish fuck and I can’t do it.” I roll my eyes and sit back in my chair, staring at the clock. She looks at me for a long moment before glancing down at her notes.
“Can we talk about some of the more concerning elements you’ve brought up?” I shrug. “From what you’ve just told me, you felt the impulse to stalk Alex. Can we speak about that?” I look up at the ceiling and shrug again.
I’m such an idiot for letting that slip.
“It was just an impulse. Nothing happened.” I avoid looking at her face to see if she thinks I’m lying.
“Be that as it may, I think we need to better understand why you feel the impulse to interact with Alex in a way that doesn’t respect her safety or privacy.
You’ve felt these impulses before, right?
” I nod, still not looking at her. “Was it just with Ashley?” I keep my eyes fixed on the ceiling and nod once, hoping it reads as sincere.
No one else actually counts, anyway. “I know you said you did some work on this topic while in prison, but I’d like to explore it further with you. ”