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28. He Took a Swing

He Took a Swing

Toby

I learned the hard way that I’m not supposed to park myself in front of a psychologist, blurt out that I cheated on my wife, and demand that the poor guy fix me.

To Dylan’s credit, he was a lot calmer than I was. Only one of his bushy gray eyebrows rose above the rim of his tortoiseshell glasses before he put his notebook down and handed me a glass of water.

“Toby,” he said. “I can’t fix you because you’re not broken.”

“I know you’ve got all those diplomas”—I waved my hand at the gold frames on the back wall—“but I think you might be wrong about that.”

Dylan sank into his leather chair. He rested an ankle on his knee, then did that doctor thing where he tilted his head and watched me like he was reading my mind.

“How long have you thought something was wrong with you?” he asked. “Or that you needed to be fixed? Has it only been since you were unfaithful to your wife?”

My gaze dropped to my hands. “I don’t know.” My shoulders hiked around my ears. “Maybe…always?”

“That’s a long time. How does that make you feel?”

I eyed Dylan suspiciously. “You’re one of those guys who wants to talk about feelings?”

“You don’t want to talk about how you feel?”

“I don’t know how I feel. If I knew, do you think I would’ve done so much dumb shit to hurt my wife?”

Dylan did the head-tilting thing again. “Okay, let’s forget feelings for now. Maybe you can tell me why you want to fix yourself.”

“Easy. So I can be a good husband… A good dad… A decent person. I’m none of those right now.”

“And when you’ve achieved that—being a good husband and good dad—what does that look like? How would your life be different?”

“Gwen would love me. She’d smile when I come home.

She’d let me touch her. Cuddle her…” We’d sleep in the same bed.

We’d have sex. We hadn’t in… forever . I exhaled a sharp breath.

I wasn’t telling Old Man Dylan any of that.

He’d think I was a damn creep. “Forget it. It’s stupid.

I’m acting like a selfish dumbass.” I rose to my feet. “I don’t even know why I’m here—”

“Toby.” Dylan was on his feet, too. His palm shot up, urging me not to storm out of his office. “This is a lot. I’m not bullshitting you when I say that you’ve taken a huge step coming here today. Can I ask… Are you into sports?”

“Uh, yeah. I played rugby growing up.”

“Okay.” Dylan lowered himself into his chair. “Imagine you’re the captain of a rugby team.”

“Easy.” I grinned. “I was.”

“I believe it.” He quirked a smile. Were psychologists allowed to smile?

“So, you’ve been called up to play in a tournament where you can win a million dollars but can’t pick your team.

On the day of the match, you rock up. One of the guys has a broken arm.

Another guy can’t pass for shit. You’ve got someone sitting on the bench who’s sick of the whole thing. Do you play the game or go home?”

That was a no-brainer. “I play.”

“Even though the team isn’t the best?”

I shrugged. “Well, if you don’t play, you’ve already lost your chance at the million, right?

” I sat down. Brainstorming sports. Yeah, not so bad.

A complete waste of money, but I was here anyway, right?

“What if all the other teams are shit, too? Plus, I reckon I could rally my guys. Maybe they just need the right person to motivate them and show them how it’s done. ”

Dylan’s nod was thoughtful. “Yeah, that’s right.

It’s not about fixing everyone on the team so they’re perfect.

It’s about accepting and working with what you’ve got.

” His head tilted, mind reading again. “Do you see how that might be what you need, too? What if you had the right guy helping you pick the tools to handle some of your situations? Talk through some options?”

“You’re saying you’re that guy?”

Dylan smiled. “Maybe not on the field like you, but here in this office working through some of the things on your mind, yeah, I could be that guy.”

I scrubbed a hand down my face. What was the worst that could happen if I stayed? Having another guy to bounce ideas off and talk stuff through would be good.

“Where would we start?” I asked.

“You call the shots, Toby. No rules. Go wherever the play takes you. Start by talking about anything on your mind.”

I looked down at my hands, eyes tracing the ridges on my thumbs. “I know I’m here about Gwen. I need to save my marriage.” I sighed. “But…”

“Something else is weighing on your mind, too?”

I jerked my chin down in a nod. “I don’t want to be like my father.

He was miserable and patched over his problems with other women.

I’m worried I’m like him. There’s a part of me that can’t be on my own…

that needs people…and…and… validation all the time.

I want to understand how I can feel comfortable on my own. Could we, um…maybe talk about that?”

“Toby, I think that’s a great idea.”

And that was how I ended up staying for the whole hour and booking a regular catch-up every Wednesday morning.

I didn’t solve any of my problems or figure out how to win back Gwen—and I still didn’t buy that shit about not being broken—but Dylan said we’d work on it.

The glass door to Dylan’s office swung shut behind me. The morning sun was too bright. Harsh light bounced off the concrete and into my squinted eyes. I could barely see two steps in front of me, but I didn’t miss the flutter of white paper stuffed under the windshield wiper of my car.

Shit .

Did I forget to pay the meter? Possible. I was pretty amped up before my appointment. I got a few steps closer. No, it wasn’t a ticket. My gut clenched. It was worse .

Under the wiper was a single pink rose and a folded piece of paper.

Kayleigh strikes again …

A bitter taste soured my mouth. When was she going to take the bloody hint and leave me alone?

I glanced over my shoulder. No one waited on the sidewalk.

No shadows hid behind the other cars, ready to capture my reaction for one of those TV shows where they prank people. The café down the road wasn’t busy.

I blinked.

My first instinct was to rip all that crap off my car, crush the note in my fist, and dump it in the trash where it belonged. My second instinct was a niggle—a calmer voice like Gwen’s—that whispered for me to be careful. Keep it.

I lifted the wiper, gingerly plucked out the rose so the thorns didn’t rip into my fingers, and grabbed the note. I flipped it open. Black letters looped and curled over the page.

I hope I’ll dream about you when I fall asleep tonight.

Seeing the lipstick-stained kiss at the bottom was no surprise. Still, I shook my head, and a strange, hollow laugh escaped me.

My heart raced, but my head was empty. How did Kayleigh know I was there? I had no ideas and no plan about what to do next. How would I ever make this right?

I chucked Kayleigh’s junk on the passenger seat and got the hell out of there.

I ended the call to the lawyer and thumped my head on the wall outside the changing room.

The guy was a straight talker. I should’ve known anyone Gwen recommended wouldn’t pull any punches. He’d spelled out just how fucked I was in bite-sized chunks. The partnership with Ian couldn’t be dissolved quickly. The deed was locked up tight.

His legal advice? Shut up, keep my temper under control, and be patient. Quick fixes? Nope. I needed to be patient while he carefully unwound the complicated threads tying my family’s future to a man determined to destroy it.

When I pushed open the door to the changing room, my eyes narrowed on Ian.

He stood next to the lockers. His back was to me. Shirt off. An evil smile pulled at the corner of my lips. Did I need to follow my lawyer’s advice? Maybe, if I were quiet… A mouse… If I snuck up behind him…

Ian’s head turned. Purple and green blotches still darkened his jaw. “Hey, man.” That two-faced snake had the nerve to smile at me. “This is a late start for you.”

I acknowledged Ian with a dip of my chin. I stalked to my locker, but my eyes zeroed in on the traitor. Maybe I needed to be the bigger person, and yeah, I was putting my family’s needs first, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t imagine how good it would feel to bury my fists in his smug face.

Ian tugged a white T-shirt over his head. “You on dad duties now that Gwen’s back at work?”

“Something like that.”

Tension crackled in the air, every movement charged, ready to spark.

Ian’s sigh was heavy. Oh, poor baby. Was something bothering him? Did that bastard even have a conscience? “Toby, can we talk about the other day?”

“No.” I reached into my locker to grab my dental coat. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

Ian’s chin lifted. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was sizing me up for a fight. I almost laughed, shaking my head as I slipped the coat off the hanger.

He took a step closer. “But I wanted to ask—”

I raised my eyebrows. My eyes were on the gap he was closing between us. This asshole was testing my patience.

“—if Gwen liked my flowers?”

Ian’s body slammed against the lockers. His smirking face was pinned against the metal by the hand I squeezed around his throat. My nostrils flared, chest heaving, adrenaline surging like bullets through my veins. The entire world, except his face, disappeared from my tunnel-visioned rage.

How dare he talk about Gwen?

“T—b—” Ian’s fingers clawed to get my hand off his neck. He wrenched to the side just enough to choke out, “ Stop .”

Shit .

I was going to kill him for real.

A steady, violent thump of blood roared in my ears. I dropped my hand and took a step back. The grip of my fingers had bruised his throat in thick red lines.

I braced my hands on my hips and fixed my gaze on the ground, sucking in deep breaths, trying to calm down.

My resolve—my sanity—was hanging by a thread.

The lawyer’s warning looped on repeat. Protect my family.

Be patient. Don’t lose my temper. Gwen’s voice had been so quiet—so scared, so small—when she’d stared down at the picnic blanket and told me what Ian had done.

Yet, her voice was the loudest in my mind.

Hold your shit together . I forced down more air.

Ian took a step closer.

I didn’t look up but raised my palm in warning. “Stay right where you are.” The words almost came out in a growl. “One more step, and you’re dead, understand?”

“No?” Ian sounded genuinely confused. “Toby—”

“I know .”

“You know…what…?”

I lifted my gaze. “About your visit to my house to see my wife.” I rolled my shoulders to relax the cords straining too tight in my neck. “Gwen told me. Everything .”

Ian nodded slowly. “I see.” He ignored my warning.

He took another step. “So, you know . Did my girl truly tell you everything ?” He was next to me.

“Did she tell you how much she liked my mouth on her? What about how she kissed me back?” A sinister edge crept into his voice.

He was smiling when he leaned closer. “What about how my hand was inside her knickers—”

My fist swung and hit.

Ian grunted out a pained breath when the full force hit his cheek.

His head cracked hard against the locker, but he was still on his feet.

I landed another hit in his gut. He doubled over.

I didn’t stop. The blows pounded in sickening, dulled thuds against the hands he’d crossed over his face to protect himself.

He got in maybe a shot or two, but at some point, my anger swelled into full-blown rage, and I shoulder-charged him against the lockers so hard he bounced back and hit the floor.

A thunder of feet roared into the changing room.

“Toby— fuck !” Judy. I couldn’t see her. I was too busy throwing off the flurry of hands trying to keep me from smashing Ian until he disappeared through the cold, tiled floor. “That’s it! That’s fucking it! You’re out .”

My fist reared back, I froze. “What?” I blinked rapidly. “No.”

I looked over my shoulder.

Judy stood above me, hands on her hips, thin lips flat. “Yep. You’re out. Take a fucking vacation. You won’t be stepping foot back in this clinic until you’ve sorted out your shit.” Her chest heaved under the weight of labored breaths. “Understand?”

“I’m not going.”

“You’re going, or I’m calling the damn cops!”

Ian struggled to his feet. “No!” He collapsed back to his knees. “No. Don’t. Judy, please. Toby’s just—he’s not himself—he’s my—” Ian sniffled. “He’s my best friend.”

Please . The man should’ve become an actor, not a dentist. “We’re not friends,” I spat.

Judy’s gnarled hands shoved me to the doorway. She wanted me gone. The frowns and glaring eyes from the other staff crowding the tiny room told the same story. They all wanted me gone.

“Toby, I’m sorry,” Ian almost sobbed. “I’m sorry… I had to protect her. After all the things you did to hurt her… I had to protect Gwen.”

Judy shoved me, but there was a gap between her shoulders and the doorway to the changing room. A couple of the girls were fussing over Ian, swiping tissues at his face to sop up the blood. Like that would do anything. A trail of red seeped from his nose. He was a mess.

What have I done?

Ian’s eyes lifted to meet mine. He wasn’t scared. His bloody teeth bared in an eerie smile, and he silently mouthed the words, “I win.”

My body turned ice cold. He’d planned this. Just like the party. I’d walked into his trap and reacted exactly how he wanted. Again.

I’d failed.