Knocking at my door startles me awake. Sitting up on the sofa, I groan and rub the sleep from my eyes.
“Gordy?” a male voice calls from the other side of the door, followed by more pounding. “I know you’re in there, so there’s no point in pretending I’m a door-to-door religion rep and hiding.”
“What the hell?” I grumble. “Who is it, then?” Maybe it’s the grogginess, but the voice is only vaguely familiar.
“The Ghost of Christmas Past,” whoever it is replies dryly. “Now, open up. We need to talk.”
I shuffle to the door, trying to smooth down my mussed up hair as I go. When I open it, I find—“Brooks?”
He looks down at himself, as if he’s searching for something. “Last time I checked.”
“Why are youhere?”
“Because I get the distinct feeling that you haven’t been keeping up with your therapy.” He shoulders past me, barging into my apartment.
“Come on in,” I quip sarcastically.
Brooks rolls his eyes. “You and I both know you weren’t going to invite me in otherwise.”
“Wow, Doc, you neverusedto be this pushy.”
He shrugs. “Been working on my own personal growth. Can you still say that for yourself?” he asks, glancing around my home. “Also, I’m not adoc. I’m a social worker,” he hums. “But you already know that, and you’re just using that nickname to ruffle my feathers—whichwassomething we were working on no longer doing, was it not?”
“I’m not your client anymore, since you can’t be my therapist,” I remind him.
“No, but I can be yourfriend. One who happens to have a working knowledge of cognitive behavior therapy,” he rebuts. He pulls up a seat at the end of my sofa, and gestures for me to do the same. “So, fill me in on the last three years.”
“There’s not much to fill you in on. You’re looking at it.” Gesturing downstairs, then back here, I add, “Work, home, gym.”
“And where’s the Gordy that had aspirations of doing better?”
I snort. “In the land of make believe.”
“Why?”
“Because I gave up. Memories of my past still eat away at me. I can’t—fuck, I’ve tried to move on, but I can’t. I’m hopeless.”
Brooks shakes his head. “You’re not. I think you’re just stuck in a rut.”
“Obviously,” I scoff.
He sits back and steeples his fingers under his chin, studying me. “You always used to tell me about how you hated owning thepub. Well, you hated serving people alcohol, because you loathed the thought of turning people into alcoholics, just like Marlin. While I don’t think that’s necessarily the case, because being a bartender does not an alcoholic make, I can see where that would cause you to feel as if that were the case. First of all, Marlin was—and pardon my language—a fucked up individual who deserves to rot for all of eternity. That’s who he was to his core, with or without the alcohol.” Brooks gives me a pointed look that says we both know he’s not in the wrong about that.
It’s true. That fucked up asshole deserves to be rotting in the ground right now.
Brooks continues, “That’s besides the point, however. Whatisthe point is that you and he arenotalike. Marlin, by all accounts, was someoneincapableof acknowledging how truly horrible his actions were. And, sure, you may have done something crappy in the past, but it pales in comparison to what he did—and I know as well as you do how remorseful you are about that. Evan knows it too. I canpromiseyou he doesn’t still hate you, Gordy. Heunderstandsnow that it was out of self-preservation.”
My jaw ticks as I struggle to hold back the flood of emotions that slam into me.
He sighs. “The pub is still here as a monument to your troubled past, though. I think the best thing you can do for yourself is to let it go, which isn’t an easy thing to say since I know it’s how you make your living—but I think it’s worth giving some thought to.”
I nod, because he does have a point there. It’s not lost on me that more and more frequently I feel like just handing the whole damn thing over to Taryn. He’s ready for it, and clearly owning it is his dream, unlike the nightmare it’s been for me.
“The gym?” Brooks continues “I’m not even going to touch that one, because Idothink that’s a healthy outlet for you, and I’ve always been steadfast about that. Heck, if you’re still sparring, I think that’s thebestthing for you. You get thatreleaseyou always mentioned you craved. Believe it or not, I think it can be empowering for victims of abuse to participate in some sort of martial arts, as it can build self-confidence.”
“It does help tremendously,” I agree.
“So, tell me about home,” Brooks hums. “Taryn obviously moved out…”
