“First, Giselle was way out of line. She shouldn’t be saying shit like that to anyone, let alone Bri. She hasn’t had it easy in life, and I think something about Bri triggers her.”
“Fucking hell, Gage. How can you be defending her? You have sisters. You even have nieces and nephews. What the fuck?” How he’s friends with her blows my mind. I never really asked him about it. But I have warned him that she’s toxic as hell.
“Not defending, just…I understand her more than most. But, she was in the wrong, and I will be having a conversation with her. I’m not sure it’ll do anything, but she and Iwillhave words. I’m sorry for what she said. That woman in there,” Gage nods to the office before continuing, “is fucking incredible. Giselle doesn't handle jealousy well. And your girl intimidates the shit out of her. I have your back, both of your backs, always.”
I let out a long sigh before speaking. “I appreciate it, man. I know you have my back. You always do. Thanks for taking over the closing duties, I appreciate it.”
Our exchange is interrupted when Bri comes out of the office, fully dressed and wearing a tired expression. A lot has happened within the last few hours, so her exhaustion makes sense. I take her hand in mine and walk her out to my car. Tomorrow can’t come fast enough, and the plans I have for her and that damn body of hers have my dick itching to come out and play.
Brianna
If I let myself, I could fall head over heels for this man
I’vebeenstaringatmy computer screen for what seems like fifteen minutes. The more I scroll, the more overwhelmed I become. There are so many options for therapists out there; how are you supposed to know who is the right fit for you? A frustrated sigh leaves my lips, and I do what I’ve been putting off since the start of my search: text Cas.
Me: Hey, Cas. I was hoping you could help me with something.
Cas: Yeah of course. What do ya need?
Me: Got any good referrals for therapists?
The three dots dance across my screen only for a few seconds, but it feels like minutes.
Cas: Yeah. I think you and Dr. Jacqui will be the perfect fit. You can call her at 735-555-5555.
Me: Thank you, Cas, Iappreciate it.
I type the number into my phone and before I lose the courage, I hit dial.
“Thank you for calling Therapy Connections. This is Jacqui speaking, how can I help you?” Her voice instantly puts me at ease, making this decision ten times easier.
“Hi, my name is Brianna Montgomery and I, um, I need to set up an appointment for therapy.”
“Hi, Brianna. Thank you for reaching out. Let me check my calendar.” The sound of nails clacking on the keyboard echoes in my ear until it nearly shreds my nerves. My heart stampedes like wild horses inside my chest as I wait.
“Ah yes, here we go. I have Tuesdays at ten or eleven a.m. I also have some afternoon slots at one or two p.m. Which works best for you?”
“Um, ten a.m. works for me.”
“Great. I just need a good contact number from you.”
“Oh, of course. It’s 312-444-4444.”
“Perfect. I’ll put you down for this upcoming Tuesday at ten. If you could come fifteen minutes prior to fill out the necessary paperwork, that would be great. Do you have a pen and paper handy?”
“I do, yeah.” She rattles off the address and I write it down, along with adding an appointment reminder on my phone so I don’t forget.
“Thank you so much.” I’m glad this is a phone conversation so she can’t see the sheer panic on my face.
“Of course, I look forward to meeting with you. Have a great day.”
I’m scared shitless, but I also feel a sense of relief. I’m finally getting the help I should’ve gotten after the accident. My appointment is five days away, giving me enough time to prepare mentally and emotionally.
My doorbell rings, and when I glance at my phone, I see that it's twelve-thirty on the dot. Asher is nothing if not punctual. I’m curious about what he has planned for us today since he was being rather evasive last night. He didn’t give me any specifics in regard to what I’m supposed to wear, so I’m in black leggings and the same oversized t-shirt from the night he stayed over after taking us home from the bar.
When I open the door, it’s the first thing he notices. He eyes me like I’m his prey.
“You’re lucky we have plans, otherwise I’d take you on your couch,” Asher groans.
