“And what, she ignored you?” When I don’t answer his question in a reasonable amount of time he bursts out laughing. “Oh my gosh, she’s totally ghosting you! The pretty doctor lady is totally ghosting you after this weekend.Yikes,that’s gotta hurt.” He sucks his lips and grimaces.
“It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t anything. She’s my therapist, not some random girl I met at a bar,” I begin to justify. Both to him and to myself. “She’s being professional. She gave me her number for professional reasons and I was the one who overstepped that boundary by texting her.”
“But she was the one who flirted withyouwhile drunk. What’s the saying? Drunk mouths speak sober thoughts?” He tips an eyebrow at me. “And you’re already so far gone it’s not even funny.”
“I am not,” I sneer. Slipping the pizza into the oven, I shut the door with a little more force than I intend.
Carter’s eyes dramatically swing from the slammed door to me. “Mmhmm, sure you’re not. Well, now that lunch is cooked, I’ll go let everyone know to come on in to eat. Good job tag teaming lunch,lover boy.”
When he leans into the name and smacks me on the chest I have the strong urge to hit him.
Maybe I’ll talk aboutthatin therapy tomorrow.
My lungs pumpto match the rhythm of my arms while the sound of my feet carrying me down the sidewalk somehow reaches my ears. I have my music turned all the way up yet I can still hear the heavy landing of each sole against the old cracked sidewalks of the city. Or maybe it’s my heart beating so loud I can hear it in my ears. The sun is only starting to crack over the horizon of the water as I runalong it. I’m not sure how we’d made it here already, but Thanksgiving is in two weeks.
Per our annual traditions, we’ll have our big firehouse meal for everyone on duty during the holiday, Carter and I included since Coop always works the holidays too. Once the three of us get off, we’ll go home to Ivy’s to meet her and Willow who will have spent the entire day cooking while we were at work. That’s how the holidays always go for us. Some people’s family traditions are finding a pickle ornament tucked into their Christmas tree or opening gifts on Christmas Eve instead of the morning of. For us, it’s starting the day by showing up for the city we live in and love, followed by spending the day with the people who mean the most to us.
The memories of Thanksgiving and Christmas pasts distract me from how my feet are starting to throb and my shins feel like someone’s kicked them with a steel toed boot. Like the time Carter opened all of my presents on purpose after I told him Santa wasn’t real. Or, the same year Cooper and Willow’s mom passed away, they came to our house on Christmas morning after Coop found his dad passed out on their couch, already drunk at nine in the morning. Between the four of them on top of everyone I consider family in the Marines and at the firehouse, the holidays are never a time of sadness for me. Christmas is actually one of my favorite times of year because I went to live with Ivy right around Christmas. Since then, I never really wished for more than I have because I knew I hit the jackpot with the family I’d been given.
Turning the corner, I start to loop myself back towards my place. I have a few hours before my session with Hanna later this morning, but I want to make sure I have time to take a shower and get ready.
Not that I need to.
Or have any reason to.
I just want to.
‘You’re already so far gone for her.’ I hear Carter’s words creep into my ear. I am notso far gone, I’m not even half a block down the road. Hanna is nothing more than my therapist. A nice woman who’s helping me unclog all the shit in my head. Wanting to take a thorough shower before seeing her has nothing to do with me having feelings for her and everything with wanting to be a gentleman. And while I’ve only known her a couple weeks, I know she deserves someone far better than me to treat her far better than just a gentleman.
Several hours and a deep clean later, I’m sitting in the lobby of her office dwarfing the chair I’m in. I might workout consistently and run almost daily, but that doesn’t prevent me from still being a big dude. And the chairs she has in her office are made for people far smaller than me.
I know she’s here since the music I assume is supposed to calm you while you wait is playing and I can hear her singing to herself behind her closed office door. A smile spreads across my face as I listen to her sing, remembering how she serenaded me at the bar last weekend. When she’s ready, she swings the door open and greets me with a semi-nervous smile.
“Good morning, Miles. Come on in.” She waves a hand to her side, inviting me into the smaller room we meet in. I push myself up from the chair and try to hide my smirk.She’s nervous.
“How’ve ya been, doc?” I ask as I step inside her office. She closes the door softly behind me.
“I’ve been well. Can’t believe it’s Thursday already.”
“Yeah, this week’s gone by fast. Feels like this weekend was only yesterday.”
She seems to hiccup at my word and when I take a seat on the couch and face her, I see her trying to compose herself. Two fingers touch the arm of her glasses as she adjusts them on her face.
“So, how’s this week been for you? Have you been sleeping better?” She tips her head to the side with one hand poised and ready to take down notes as I talk.
My eyes narrow. “Some days are better than others. I have this new thing that’s been keeping me up though, making it hard to sleep.”
Her pen is dancing across the pad of paper she has resting on her knee. “And what’s that?”
I wait for her to look up and meet my gaze. When she does, I smile at her. “I met this amazing woman at the bar this weekend andthoughtI was nothing but a gentleman. But then we ran into one another the next morning and it was like she couldn’t get away from me fast enough. She’s also ignored the few texts I sent her to make sure she was okay after she left the bar with her friend. I don’t know. I feel like maybe I upset her somehow, maybe made her feel uncomfortable.”
I pause for impact and lean over my knees, closing the distance between us a little more. “What’s your take?”
She clears her throat and pinches the corners of her mouth back. Clasping her hands in her lap, she abandons the pen and paper all together. “I’d say it sounds like she’s trying to maintain a professional boundary. One that, while you were nothing short of a gentleman, she must uphold because of theprofessionalrelationship the two of you have.”
I nod my head slowly. “I see, ‘professional.’”
“Professional,” she repeats.
