Chapter 28 Rose
ROSE
“Okay.” I took a quick sip of water. “Now that we’ve established that you aren’t weak, let’s talk about good things. Tell me something you like about yourself.”
He stilled, blinked. You’d think I’d just asked him to draw a map of the female reproductive system.
I was surprised, shocked, even. A man with an ego the size of Texas was at a loss for words when asked to compliment himself.
And then I realized, it wasn’t an ego that was driving Phoenix’s unruliness, it was his pride. A pride badly injured.
So I switched tactics.
“Okay… then tell me, what’s the most important thing in your life?”
“My family.” His response was immediate and had nothing to do with his healing, as I’d expected. This concerned me because it suggested not only that his primary focus wasn’t on getting better, but also that he didn’t see himself as worthy enough to put his full focus on.
“What would they say they like most about you?”
Again, no response to this question. He shifted his weight, avoiding eye contact.
“What would they say about you, then? Anything at all?”
An icy gaze met mine. “That I’m a burden.”
“I doubt that.”
“Why?”
“Because they love you. They look up to you. More than that, though, I doubt they’d say that because you don’t allow yourself to be a burden. You won’t accept help from anyone. Why?”
With a guttural groan, he surged to his feet, plucked a stress ball from my desk and began squeezing the thing a million miles a minute.
“Because I don’t want them to see me like this.”
“Why? They’re family.”
“Because I don’t want to let them down, alright?
You don’t understand, Rose. I’m the oldest brother.
I raised my brothers while my dad worked, and I became the head of household when he died.
I run a multi-million dollar company, with offices all over the country.
Let me rephrase that—I did run it before a bullet lodged in my brain. ”
“It will come back. Everything will come back.”
“What if it doesn’t?!” He raised his voice and spun to face me.
“What if it doesn’t, Rose? You don’t get it.
Even if everything does go back to normal…
if I heal completely… I’m… I’m afraid they won’t look at me the same anymore, alright?
That no one will. That everything will be different.
People will question my decisions, wondering if I was having a damn relapse or something.
Dammit.” He began pacing again. “You should see the look in my brothers’ eyes when they talk to me.
Like I’m a fucking toddler. Or, the looks I get at the grocery store, the diner, the feed store. Sorry. Sorry for the damn language.”
“It’s fine, please don’t worry about it. And the looks you’re getting around town aren’t new. I think you got looks before. Your ruthless military reputation precedes you. You’re a pretty intimidating presence. You have to know that.”
“It’s not the same. It’s different.”
“I think people are just as wary of you now as before the incident. Circumstances are different, sure, but I think your perception of yourself is what has changed. Tell me something you like about yourself. Please.”
“Nothing, Rose. Nothing. I can’t stand the person I am right now.
” He walked to the window, covered his mouth with his hand and stared at dark clouds in the distance.
A minute passed, then in a voice as if he were talking to himself, he said, “I look at myself in the mirror and I don’t recognize myself.
I look at my hands, my arms, my legs, as if they are separate from my body.
Like they aren’t even my own.” He turned to me, a confused, pained look on his face that broke my heart. “How screwed up is that?”
A moment ticked by as I mustered up the courage to ask the question I’d been wondering since we’d first met.
“Phoenix I want you to think about this next question carefully. I want you to consider your answer before you respond. Be truthful. Alright?”
“I will.”
“Do you ever think about hurting yourself?”
“No.”
“Ending your life?”
His gaze shifted to the window in an expressionless stare.
“I wouldn’t do that to my family.” He said finally. “That’s not how we do things. We face problems head on and fix it.”
“But this is different.”
“It is.” He nodded.
“Because you can’t fix it with your hands.”
He nodded.
I stood, walked over to him. “I don’t want you to become a statistic, Phoenix.”
“Oh, you mean, statistics like, patients with some sort of traumatic brain injury are four times more likely to commit suicide than the general population? And those that are depressed, on top of that, are twenty-one times higher to commit suicide? Twenty-one times.” He turned to me, a fire behind those blue eyes.
“I spent decades in the military, Rose, don’t forget that.
I know all about TBI and the effect it has on even the most badass of men.
I’ve lost brothers, not only on the battlefields, but to the very statistics I just rattled off.
” His jaw clenched as he looked down at me.
“I think of those men every day, every night as I go to sleep. See their faces, see their families’ faces.
I—we, you, our country—owe them the greatest respect and I’ll have a word with anyone who judges them for choices they made.
They are to be remembered and given the utmost respect.
I’ll see them again, but not at the cost of my own hand.
Not because I’m too good for it. Because they wouldn’t want that. ”
My hand drifted to his arm. When it connected, he flinched. My heart skipped a beat as we stared at each other.
It’s weird now, looking back at that moment, it was as if my body knew something bigger than me was happening there.
Little paths unfolding around us, about to take us to places we’d never been before…
and some I’d never go back to. The universe was in control of that moment, and I knew, without question, we were both exactly where we were supposed to be at that very moment.
He took a deep breath, a small step back. “The one question that I keep having… the one I can’t let go of, is wondering if…” His eyes shimmered and he looked away.
“Tell me, Phoenix.”
“If I would have rather not come out of it. If I would rather be dead than… whatever I’ve become.”
“You’ll become yourself again.” I gripped his arm again, pulling him back to me. “But even stronger. This will make you stronger. I can already see it in you. I believe in you. I believe in you so much, Phoenix.”
He closed his eyes, pulled out of my grasp and walked away, taking the heat, the emotion, but leaving a moment that I’d never forget.
“Enough of that.” He said.
“Okay.”
“Thank you. Let’s continue.” He took his place on the couch.
I nodded, swallowed the lump in my throat and slipped back behind my desk surprised that he wanted to keep going. Ironically, I was the one who’d become an emotional mess. But Phoenix didn’t give up once he’d set his mind to something.
“Okay.” I sipped my water, and took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s focus on triggers. Emotionally, what sets you off?”
“Anything. Everything.”
“Is there anything in particular? Something that you’ve noticed sets you off more than others?”
“You.”
My heart skipped in my chest.
“What exactly about me sets you off?”
“Your independence. Your fearlessness.”
“Some people might think independence and courage is a good trait in another human.”
“I said fearlessness. An entirely different animal.”
“I disagree.”
“Courage is the ability to face a fear head on and take action, despite the threat. Fearlessness is not acknowledging the threat in the first place. Very different.”
“And what don’t you like about my independence?”
“That I’m not part of it.”
He said it so matter-of-factly that it took away the implication of it. Of us.
“Rose, let me secure your house, your property. Let me handle all of it.”
I dropped my head in my hands and groaned. “I don’t know what’s happening here, Phoenix. I don’t know what’s happening between us. I need to figure it out. But one thing I know I can handle is getting my house secured. I don’t need you to do all that. I can handle it.”
“Like I can handle my recovery by myself?”
Touché.
He slid his elbows onto his knees and leaned forward.
“Someone broke into your house. Someone videoed you without your approval. Andrew was stabbed to death after discovering the camera. I believe you are in danger, Rose. And if you don’t accept my help to ensure your safety, I will find someone else to do it.”
“It’s not your job to protect me, Phoenix.”
“I’ve made it my job.”
“It’s my job to keep you safe, to keep you happy. To keep you comfortable, content. Satisfied. It’s my job, as your man, to control it. It’s my job to keep you mine.” His words from the evening before echoed in my head.
A moment slid by while we stared at each other.
He’d said his piece, and he was done.
Well, I wasn’t.
“Would you feel this way with another psychologist? Would you feel this protective if you were sitting across from Dr. Brecklebaum, the psychologist across town?” It was a loaded question on so many levels.
I was practically begging the man to tell me he felt something for me.
Something romantic. Something other than seeing me as a ticket to his freedom. Or, a roadblock, perhaps.
“Why are you so independent?” He asked.
“What kind of question is that?”
“One that’s as loaded as the one you just asked me.”
I shifted in my seat. “There’s nothing wrong with a woman being independent.”
“There certainly isn’t. I didn’t say that. But this one wears it like a shield of armor.”
A second slid by.
“Tell me about it.” He demanded.
“About what?” I deflected.
“About what’s in your past that’s made you think you can’t depend on anyone else.”
I felt the heat rising up my neck and I wasn’t sure if it was from the memories flooding back into my brain or from the intensity of his gaze.
He continued. “There isn’t a single personal picture in your office, in your home. No brothers, sisters, friends. Every material thing you possess is placed just so, how, and where you want it. Control. You’re gripping onto it with bloody fingertips. My question is why.”
I felt heat rush to my cheeks.
“Tell me about your childhood, Rose. Tell me about your family.”
“No.” I began fumbling with the papers on my desk, anything to do with my hands. “Don’t do this. Don’t turn the tables. This is about you. We’re here because of you.”
“I’m willing to bet your organization caddy in your fancy BMW that I’m not the only one with trauma in this room.”
“Maybe so, but this appointment isn’t for me, it’s for you.”
“The difference is, though, that you know everything about me. But I don’t know anything about you. I’m an open book. You’re locked up tighter than the corners of your bedsheets.”
I huffed. “This is how this works, Phoenix. I’m the doctor, you’re the patient.
Not me. If you can’t accept that, there’s the door.
” My back was straight, my hands clenched on my desk.
I took a silent deep breath. You are in control, you are in control, you are the one in control. Focus, focus, focus.
“Tell me, Rose.”
“Tell you what?”
“Your childhood.”
We held each other’s gaze until—at last—the dam inside me gave way, and everything I’d buried came rushing to the surface.
“I’m a foster kid, alright? An orphan.” I blurted. “There. Is that what you want? You feel better now?” Tears threatened to sting my eyes. I pushed them away.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak.
He just looked at me with a quiet, unflinching empathy—like he saw me, not with pity, but with something far deeper.
“My dad, who I never met, left my mom when she was pregnant and died in federal prison where he was locked up for a slew of things including drug trafficking and third-degree assault. Nice, huh? My mom died in a car accident after dropping me off at daycare one day. I was put into the system and tossed around from house to house like a freaking hot potato. It was horrific. That’s my childhood. ”
My desk phone buzzed.
We stared at each other, tears welling in my eyes.
It buzzed again.
My hand shook as I pressed the button.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Zoey’s voice crackled through the speaker, “but you’ve got a phone call. Also, your two-thirty is here early.”
Zoey, finally throwing me a lifeline with a fake appointment—about a year too late.
“Thanks.” I clicked off and grabbed a tissue, twisting it around my fingers.
Phoenix didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched.
And I couldn’t take it anymore. I was drained. Emotionally cashed the hell out.
“I have to go,” I muttered, then corrected myself. “I mean, you have to go.”
Phoenix pushed off the couch and crossed the room, his gaze locked on mine with each step.
Butterflies ripped through my stomach as if my body knew what was about to happen before my head did.
With heat in his eyes and determination on his face, he rounded my desk, took my face in his hands and crushed his lips against mine.
The man kissed me into oblivion.
My body went weak, my thoughts evaporated, tingles burst over my skin. The passion, the intensity, the pounding heartbeat telling me there was no going back from this.
No… there was no going back after Phoenix Steele.
I was released, left floating on some euphoric cloud, and when I finally opened my eyes, he was gone.