“I know.” Then, he snatched a leather jacket—Ren’s—and slid out the door.
As soon as he was gone, I collapsed back onto the seat at the table, face falling into my palms. Nausea swelled low in my stomach, and I bit down on my lip hard enough that I tastedblood. It was too late to call the psych, but with a shaky hand, I pulled out my phone and opened a new message. I texted the cell number on the card.
KC
Hi, my name is KC Beaumont. My pa, Quain Beaumont, recommended I contact you and set up some appts. Can you tell me if this is possible?
I dropped my phone like it was on fire and it clattered onto the table as I sighed. My hands shook and I laced my fingers together in an attempt to stop it. The moment my phone buzzed with a message, I jumped in surprise because I was caught up in the silence and staring at my hands. I grabbed the phone and opened the reply from Dr. Griffin.
Unknown Number
I have an appt available tomorrow at 11am. Would that be good?
No. Fuck no. Hell fucking no.
I chewed on the nail of my right thumb. This wouldn’t work. It couldn’t work. I’d trained too hard for food to become an issue. Even if I had no future plans for football, I had a scholarship. I refused to fail and become my biological mother.
But...I’d hurt Oli. I’d lashed out and said something nasty, and maybe he was right and I did need this. The thought of eating something that wasn’t on my strict meal plan made my stomach turn, which was stupid. Why was this so fucking hard?
With shaking hands, I responded.
KC
Perfect. I’ll be there.
I added his contact info into my phone.
Dr. Griffin
I will see you then. Please come 15 mins early to fill out paperwork. Bring your insurance card.
Simple. It was so fucking simple. So why did it feel so hard?
I found the message thread I shared with Oli.
KC
I have an appt. Tomorrow. Sorry I said that. I love you.
I moved to the couch and sat in front of Mr. Wiggles. He jumped onto my lap, and I stroked my fingers through his fur, smiling as he settled into a ball and fell asleep almost immediately. What would it be like to be a ferret? Having no worries other than eating and shitting and mating? That was a pretty great life.
I sat there for half an hour before I decided Oli wasn’t going to respond. As my finger hovered over his contact to call, I took a deep breath. No, fuck this. I locked my phone again. He didn’t want to talk to me and I didn’t blame him. I’d been an ass.
Since we’d begun our relationship, I’d always been the mediator between him and Ren. The levelheaded one who tried to reason. Now I was the instigator, the idiot who’d hurt Oli’s feelings.
It sucked.
I switched on the TV and watched some axe throwing competition as a mindless zombie until the sound of the frontdoor opening startled me. I straightened, hope blooming in my chest, until it hollowed again at the sight of a stumbling and laughing Ren. He nearly tripped over the mat at the door and a manic giggle erupted from him.
“Oops. My bad.” He shut the door with a loudbangand winced. “Shhh, Ren. Shhh.”
Despite my mood, the corners of my lips quirked. “How much did you drink?”
Ren’s arms flew up into the air and froze as though I was a cop and he’d been caught breaking the law. A grin spread across his handsome face, all teeth and mischief. “Too many. Waaaaaaaaay too many.”
“I can see that.” I gently moved Mr. Wiggles from my lap to the couch, and while he snuffled, he stayed asleep as I rose. I closed the distance between me and Ren and threw myself at him, burying my face against his shoulder while my arms knotted around his waist.
“Oh, hiiiiii.” He wrapped his big arms around me and held me tight. I sighed, reveling in his warmth and the hardness of his muscles against me. “You okay, Kansas?”
