Tracker is right. They’re escalating, and I won’t be letting them anywhere near Cole again.
______
“Why is it lately, every time I’m in this chair, I feel like I’m either going to hyperventilate or puke?”
Kerry laughs. “Well, there’s a lot that’s stirring things for you. Things you like to remain undisturbed.”
My eyes roll to the corner, peeking at her and her astute description of exactly what’s happening.
I want to crawl out of my skin, and she knows it.
I stand to stretch and walk to the window, watching Cole toss a football to the boy who has informed us his name is Matt. It bounces off his small hand and rolls toward the pool.
Kerry joins me, both of us staring out at the backyard and the two of them. The tall, handsome athlete with the world at his fingertips and the forgotten little boy who was pulled from the pits of hell.
Matt tries to place his fingers around the football and uses his whole body to throw it back.
“Do you think some of this discomfort and confusion may be related to experiencing something you’ve never allowed yourself to wonder about before?” She pauses, letting that shit just sit there and waft around me like the stink of a skunk.
It’s alarmingly suffocating and will linger for some time after we’re done.
“What if you quit fighting yourself?” she adds oh-so-calmly as if she’s not stepping into sacred territory.
I might not be familiar with what exactly this territory holds, but I can feel the thick layers of walls she’s pushing against, and I amnothere for it. Not today.
I twist toward her, but her attention remains on the game of catch outside, clearly unbothered by my pure and outrageous annoyance.
“It’s ok to let yourself explore, Ryder.”
Explore.
Now, I might really vomit all over her cozy office.
I rest my hand on the window ledge, seeking grounding amid the whirlwind of anxiety that’s taking flight with her words.
“Ryder, I sat with him and that little boy. He’s beautiful, and I’m not talking about his physical appearance.” She finally faces me, resting her hip against the windowsill while I force myself to breathe evenly. “You don’t have to force it. Maybe just. . .give yourself permission to be open to whatever it is you’re feeling.”
“I don’t want to be open to anything,” I say with complete honesty.
She laughs, but it’s subtle. “Honey, I think that’s exactly the problem. You can tell yourself that all you want, but in here,” she spreads one hand over her chest, the other over her stomach. “There’s a longing for something different, and it’s ok to let yourself want those things.”
I pull air in, holding it. I don’t want to fucking feel anything.
“Just be patient with yourself.” She turns back toward the window. “I think you have plenty of time to sort this out.”
I peek at Cole and his breathtaking smile as he pulls his arm back and gently releases the ball. I think that’s it. I don’t want to spend time figuring this out. If I did, if I allowed myself, what then? Where in the hell would I go from there? Just like always, it wouldn’t be anywhere good.
I leave Kerry’s office, not feeling any better. Before heading outside, I stop in the kitchen. If I can’t kick the absolute shit out of something, maybe chocolate will help.
Hope is pouring boiling water from a kettle into a mug.
“I was hoping I’d see you.” She sets the kettle back on the stove and reaches for a hug, but stops mid-lean to inspect my cheek. Her lips push to the side. “It was a hell of a night, huh?” She hugs and releases me.
“Yeah.” I tug open the fridge, desperate for some kind of sugary zap of relief, but settle for a handful of grapes.
What I need is a half dozen of Cole’s winning cookies.
I pop a grape in my mouth. “Matt, huh? Think that’s his real name?”
