Chapter 53
“Go away,” I say without looking.
“Afraid I can’t do that.” Javi’s smooth yet hair raising voice rolls over me.
With a sigh, I turn in my chair, meeting that eerie, mismatched gaze of his. “What can I help you with?”
“You’ve been dodging therapy.”
I make a face and gesture to my computer behind me. “I’ve been a little busy, as you can see. I said I would start, I never said it would be now. I have far too much going on for that.”
The psychiatrist puts his hands in his pockets, and I try not to be blinded by his lemon-yellow shirt and purple pants.
Seriously, who taught him how to dress? “The meds aren’t a magic cure.
They’re a tool to keep you level, but you still need to do the work.
You’re looking better, which is good, and I haven’t heard you complain about the side effects, so it must be working for you. ” He quirks a brow.
I shrug. “I still hate the meds, but I can admit you were right. Doesn’t mean I suddenly have time for therapy.”
Javi tsks. “You have a responsibility to yourself, and your lovers. Or do you not want Lio and Roman to get help? Lio has met with Anderson a few times now, and Roman is warming up to the idea of seeing Connor. I have a feeling that’ll go a lot more smoothly if you had your own appointment with him. ”
I work hard not to flinch. I don’t want to admit my weakness, but I find it hard to look at Javi as my thoughts start to tumble. How can I be a good influence for anyone if I can’t even handle my own shit?
“So blackmail is your grand plan?” I meet his eyes again.
He sighs. “Not blackmail. Just a reminder that you have a responsibility to those who follow your rule. Lio is doing well on his medication. He’s showing initiative, and being an active participant in his mental health journey. The therapy is going slow, but that’s to be expected.
“Roman is a work in progress, but with both your and Lio’s support, I think he can get there. He’s receptive to therapy for everyone around him, and even agreed that Cristian needed to see someone. That’s progress, don’t you think?”
I glare at him. “I hate you, you know that?”
Javi laughs. “I don’t care.”
Sighing, I run a hand through my hair, tugging on the stands a little. “Fine. When does Connor want to meet?”
“Tomorrow, nine sharp. Early enough that it doesn’t interfere with anything else.”
I have to take a slow, deep breath as anxiety tries to steal the air from my lungs.
A crushing sensation begins in my chest at the thought of laying everything out on the table for someone else to dissect and manipulate.
I know, I know that’s not how therapy works, but I’ve spent so long hiding from my past, it’s hard to think any other way.
“Connor is good,” Javi says gently. “He’s the right amount of tough and no bullshit that will help you, but he will also make sure you’re comfortable—he was hard to get for a reason. Trust the process, if you can’t trust either of us just yet.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Yes, but think of it like this: your mind is just some new code you have to crack. Only this time, you’re not alone.”
I scoff at his ridiculous analogy. “I’ll be at the appointment. If we’re done here…”
He throws his hands up. “Yeah, go back to saving the world.” Spinning on his heel, he mutters something about “not getting paid enough for his bullshit.”
“Oh, Javi,” I say. Pulling my knife, I throw it, tagging the side of his shoulder as he turns back around.
“Fuck!” He takes a step toward me as I stand. “Where the hell did you get a knife? You’re not supposed to have one!” he hisses.
I loom over him as he enters my space. “Don’t touch what’s not yours.”
He pulls the knife out of his arm and points it at me. “Therapy will help with your control issues.”
I glare down at him. “You helped Tennant with his court issue, and that is the only reason you are alive right now, after touching two things that are mine without permission.”
He smirks. “Funny, I thought Tennant and Jude were both adults who could have turned me away if they didn’t want it. Especially, since Jude is the one who kissed me.”
“They can do whatever they want. But you…you’re not allowed to touch. At least, you weren’t.”
Confusion enters his expression for a split second before he wipes it away. “Do you want me to beg for forgiveness? You’ll be waiting a long time if that’s the case. I don’t beg.”
I hum. “I’ve heard that before, and guess what? My Pup loves begging for me now.”
Leaning in, I hover my mouth over his. “This was just a warning. You helped Tennant, so you get to live, and for some fucked up reason, I think you’re good for the Little Lamb. But know this, if you want to remain alive? Learn your place.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He steps into me.
“Are we sure you’re not the one who needs therapy?”
Javi grins. “I was tested, and passed with flying colors.”
I snort. “You’re trouble.”
“Yep!”
“That’s not a good thing. Have your fun with Ten and Jude…if Jude doesn’t kill you first. But stay the fuck away from Lio.”
His mouth twists. “I was already warned away by his Daddy… What is it about the little Boss that inspires such protection?”
Pulling my second knife, I press it firmly against his chest. “You’ll never find out.”
Javi’s pupils dilate and he moans a little. “You’re all such a bunch of flirts…”
Sneering, I press the knife against him until his clothing and skin gives, and Javi lets out a hiss. “Next time…I’ll gut you. So unless you want to end up like Ignacio…behave.”
“How can I when you’re practically begging for me?” He tilts his head.
With a scoff, I pull away, taking my knife with me, enjoying the way blood blooms onto his bright shirt. “Might want to go see Doc.”
“Nine o’clock,” he repeats before spinning on his heel, leaving my office and taking one of my knives with him. Fucker.
When he’s gone, I sigh and sit in my chair, pulling a handkerchief out of my pocket to wipe down the knife Javi didn’t steal. Spinning back towards my desk, I stare blankly at my monitor. I have work to do, but not even the promise of that is enough to stop the thoughts coursing through me.
Staring down at the knife in my hand, I grimace, setting it on the desk and reaching for my phone instead…even though I really want to use the knife. Baby steps and all that.
Turning my chair back around, so I can’t see the blade anymore, I pull up the security feed on my phone, searching for Jude. I hate to bother him with this—me—but I’m learning better habits and all that.
Fucking hell, therapy better fucking work because I can’t keep going like this. I simply can’t.