She blinked at me, lips parting. As if leaning on someone else wasn’t even in her vocabulary. She’d pressed her lips into a stubborn line, that wavered into a wobbly, tired, raw curve. She pulled a different inhaler from the bag that looked identical to the one she’d used.
“This one’s new,” she explained, offering it to me. “It’s my backup for my backup.”
Our fingers brushed, the inhaler weighed almost nothing, but the trust in the gesture was heavy. Was this the start of outweighing whatever sins I’d committed against her?
I turned it over in my hand. Albuterol. Prescription number. Pharmacy. Nina’s information. My jaw tightened. She’d never ration medicine again.
Two daysafter Nina’s episode, we were at Dr. Steinberg’s again. The two-week checkup had been uneventful. I was still physically fine. She’d extended my leave for another week, so we were back, and she was looking into my chart with renewed interest. The sound of papers shuffling grated on my nerves. I sat rigid in the chair across from her desk, pretending the leather didn’t squeak every time I shifted. Nina sat off to the side, quiet. She’d brushed off taking a few hours off, but I knew she hated it, even if Lynnie wouldn’t hold it against her.
“Physically, you’ve made excellent progress,” Dr. Steinberg said, looking up at me. Her dark curls framed her face, and her red nails drummed lightly against the folder. “Not that we were ever worried. Your scans looked good. Reflexes are sharper now. All lingering dizziness and motor delays have subsided. From a medical standpoint, you’ve healed enough to resume all activity.”
“Then clear me for work,” I said before she could add another caveat. I’d made our conversation about how I needed structure, something to do besides circle the walls at home. What I really needed though, was to deal with the twist in my gut regarding that Infinity Weddings mess I’d seen in those files.
Steinberg’s gaze held mine steadily. “Lincoln, I can’t do that just yet.”
I tensed. “Why not? You just said I’m fine.”
“You’re finephysically, but it’s been over three weeks since the accident, and your memories haven’t returned. That’s… concerning. If it were only the concussion, we would expect to see more recovery,anyrecovery for that matter, by now. So something else may be at play.” She steepled her fingers, nails glinting. “With what we know, the memory loss is certainly triggered by the physical event, the accident, but probably heightened by something psychological.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Dr. Steinberg arched her eyebrow, but Nina didn’t even flinch.
“It means… your mind may be blocking things you’re not ready to confront. You even said as much at your first appointment. I highly recommend seeking out a therapist. Talking through the accident and any underlying trauma with a trained unbiased party might be just the thing to…” She tilted her head, amusement creasing her eyes. “Shake something loose. I can’t in good faith clear you for a high-stress professionalenvironment with so many unknowns regarding your pervasive amnesia.”
I’d obsessed over every detail I could access to figure out why exactly Nina had gotten fired when I’d found a perfectly brilliant strategy designed by her dated days before the meeting with the client. I’d gone over those horrible texts and wondered if maybe?—
“I can handle it,” I said, sharper than I meant because, in truth, I didn’t think I’d handle it if I was right. “I don’t need?—”
“We can reevaluate at your next appointment,” she stated, the softness gone. “If you seek counseling and they don’t believe there’s an issue, I’ll clear you immediately. Until then… patience, Mr. Carter.”
I glanced sideways at Nina, who shifted in her chair but said nothing. Her hands folded in her lap, knuckles pale.
Truth was, I wanted to right my wrongs, yes, but remembering wasn’t something I looked forward to. I’d seen enough of the kind of dick I’d been in those texts. The wayI’dmocked Nina and encouraged Natasha and even Vinny to trash her…. It was enough to make me wonder what else I’d find. The thought alone made me sick.
As we headed to Reality Bites, I had neither patience nor time. I needed something real to show Nina I was worth staying for. Otherwise, she’d be out of my home as soon as she had regular clients, and I worried if she would go somewhere safe for her or risk her health the way she had before?
I needed to start with Infinity Weddings. And I couldn’t wait until this shrink, Dr. Valeria Ross, decided I wasn’t crazy, so I did the only thing I could to accelerate my timeline. I texted Carmen.
It tookthree sessions with Dr. Ross before she believed I was ready to go back to work. It wasn’t what I’d expected therapy to be. I’d prepared myself for a lot ofWhy do you think you do that?Instead, she’d asked me if “Relying on mockery to mask my feelings of inadequacy” was something I’d done before the accident. The first session, she’d offered about as much warmth as an ice cube. Especially when I tried to push her buttons when she’d call me on my shit.
By the second session though, I felt differently about her. She asked about my goals. At first, it was all about returning to work. She asked, “Why do you feel this compulsion to return to work, Lincoln?” and that pressure made my “reliance on mockery” resurface. When I snapped on my therapist, I recognizedmywords in those text threads. Irecognizedthis version of me who tore apart the people who’d shown me care when I needed it.
So I told her how Ineededto make it better, find out how this brilliant, hard-working, loyal person had lost her job and why I hadn’t defended her. Why I’d allowed asshole Lincoln to ridicule and belittle her.
Dr. Ross had stared at me for the longest time, as if she could filter through all the memories I couldn’t yet remember. Finally, with no more than a nod, she settled into helping me build a plan for how to move through each day with the blanks my mind refused to fill, and find ways to ground myself when old emotions surfaced without context. We talked it through until we both felt confident I could return to work without being sabotaged by the black holes lingering on the edges of my mind.
Sabotage.The word stirred up something, but I pushed it down for my own sanity. I’d be clearing whatever this Infinity Weddings fiasco was soon enough.
The next morning, I was scheduled to return to work. I’d reviewed the key projects over the weekend and memorized every detail I found about what went wrong with the last project Nina and asshole Lincoln worked on together. Especially since freaking Carmen had left me on read. Oh, I’d heard her, all buddy-buddy on the phone with Nina, giving her an extensive list of all the clients she knew were interested in working with her.
Nina. We were better now—if you could call it that. Not friendly, exactly, but she wasn’t flinching or biting her tongue anymore. The thought made me nauseous. For her to act that way, I must have done worse than type those words. I must have spoken them—around her, to her.
She’d practice pitches for her clients with me, asking for my opinion and feedback. And I couldn’t fathom how I’d ever insulted her. The shame made me dizzy. So I plotted ways to overturn every single insult I must have spoken. The insults were proof of how much space she’d taken up in my head even then. Obsession disguised as ridicule. Possession masquerading as cruelty.
Because Nina Reyes owned me, even if she didn’t believe it yet.
As I stared at a never-ending row of three-piece suits. Navy, black, or gray. Could it be that I just wore one of these all day long, five days a week? What a boring fucking existence.
