Toxic (The Therapist #4): An Alpha Male, Relationship Coach, Erotic Romance

by Ws Greer

  I pull the truck into Evelyn’s driveway and put it in park right behind her car. The second we stop, she reaches for the handle and pops open the door.

  “Okay, Malcolm,” she answers, looking back at me over her shoulder. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Evelyn gets out of the truck and closes the door before I can reply, and I watch her walk past her car and up the concrete path leading to her front door, before stepping inside without looking back.

  “Fuck,” I say to myself as I put the truck in reverse and back out of the driveway, before stepping on the gas and heading home.

  On the ten minute drive to Magnolia, I feel overwhelmed by the day. When I meet up with Evelyn, it’s to have a good time, and we never fail. Ever since we became official, it has been nonstop awesomeness. Evelyn and I fit together like Lego pieces, and I don't want to push her away. I never would, but the fact that she knows so much about my relationship with Ava may be the thing that pushes her.

  When I first met Evelyn, I didn't expect us to start dating. I walked into her office expecting us to have a normal doctor patient relationship, so I opened up to her the way I want my patients to open up to me. I told her things about my sex life she probably regrets hearing now. There's no way she can get those thoughts out of her head when Ava is still walking around and popping up places. It’d be a miracle if she was able to move past it with all of this going on, and I don't know if there’s anything I can say to make her realize I don't want to go back to Ava. I’ll have to show her, but I’m not sure I know how.

  I turn the truck into my neighborhood and find relief in knowing my surroundings. As I drive toward my home, I scan the roads and dark spaces between houses to make sure I don't see a lurking Ava in the shadows. She's not here, and I pull into my own driveaway and wait for the garage door to reach the top so I can pull in. While I wait, my phone rings. I see Evelyn’s name on the display screen in my truck, and I tap the screen to answer. As soon as the call connects, her voice booms through the speakers in the truck.

  “Malcolm!” she blurts. Her voice sounds strained and panicked.

  “Hey, are you okay?” I ask. “You sound upset.”

  “I need you. Please come back. Come back right now. Oh my god!”

  I frown so hard it hurts my forehead. “Okay. Evelyn, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

  “No!” she shouts at the top of her lungs. “My fucking car. My car is on fire!”

  Chapter 20

  ~ MALCOLM ~

  By the time I arrive back at Evelyn’s house, her entire street is lit up with bright red flashing lights bouncing off the surrounding homes. The fire department is finishing spraying down her red Mercedes, and I’m shocked to see the car is no longer red, but a charred, crisp black with smoke wafting off it in all directions.

  Before I bring my car to a stop, Evelyn sees me coming and darts in my direction. She’s still wearing the clothes she wore to the movies, and I’m not surprised, because I only dropped her off a handful of minutes ago. It had barely been ten minutes since I drove from her house to mine before her car was ablaze. How is that possible?

  As Evelyn runs towards me, I jump out of my car and our bodies crash together in an emotional embrace. The second she hits my arms, Evelyn breaks into heavy sobs that rock her body and put a hitch in her breathing. She’s beyond emotional, and trying to calm this entire situation down is going to be difficult, but making sense of it is going to be even harder.

  “What the fuck is going on? Are you okay?” I say into her ear, because I can't get her pulled away from me enough to look at her face. We’re literally locked in an embrace.

  “She set my car on fire,” Evelyn says through her sobs.

  “Who did?”

  “You know who, Malcolm!” she bellows, nearly tearing a hole in her throat. Evelyn pulls away from me, and I’m finally able to see the hurt and pain in her face. She looks tormented, with red, puffy eyes and cheeks, and smeared makeup.

  “Ava?” I ask, but I feel like there isn't even a point, because we both know the answer. Of course it was Ava. “I don't understand. How could she possibly know where you live?”

  “She obviously waited for our movie to get out and then followed us here. How do you think she did this so fast?” Evelyn is nearly screaming at this point, and her neighbors are starting to step out of their houses to dig even further into our business. “She followed us, Malcolm. That crazy bitch!”

  “We don't know that for sure,” I say, doing my best to keep this rational and in perspective, but that’s the last thing Evleyn wants to do. The moment my words fall out, Evelyn growls and glares at me.

  “I fucking told you she was unstable,” she barks. “I told you she would still be a problem. I told you we were supposed to call the cops when we saw her. I told you! But you were too busy fantasizing about fucking her in your basement.” I’m nearly knocked off my feet by her words, but Evelyn doesn't care. Her emotions and fears have taken over now, and there’s no stopping it. “All you could think about was her body, and how cute you probably thought she looked in that slutty outfit and makeup. You cared more about her than you did me, and now look at this. She set my goddamn car on fire just to fuck with me. What if she wanted to kill me? What if she decided to set my entire house on fire? Didn’t you say she set her ex-boyfriend’s porch on fire? What’s to stop her from doing it again? My life is in actual danger because of your fucking ex, Malcolm!”

  I don't even know what to say. My first thought is to tell Evelyn to calm down, but we all know you never tell a woman who is upset to calm down. I won't fall for that trap. So, if I can't say anything, what do I do? This is why I never get too deep in a relationship. They’re like mazes that you have to be a genius to navigate once you're inside. It’s much easier to talk someone through the maze when you have an overhead view of it, rather than being inside. From my position in my chair, I can see my patients’ maze from above, and I simply tell them where to turn and which moves to avoid. It’s so much simpler. Now I’m inside my own maze with no one to guide me, and Ava is the gigantic wall that has Evelyn and me at a deadend.

  As words escape me, I go back to the trick I’ve always used—the truth. It might not make me look good right now, with all of this emotion in the air as thick as the smoke from the car, but it’s what Evelyn needs to hear.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, before clearing my throat. “You're right, and I’m so sorry. Seeing Ava got in my head and brought out those urges and addictions I’ve been fighting against. I should've called the police like you said. I should've taken it more seriously. I’m sorry I didn't listen, and I’m so sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry, Evelyn.”

  By the time I’m done talking, I have tears in my eyes. I’m not trying to make Evelyn feel sorry for me. My tears are real. I fucked up the moment I admitted to myself how good Ava looked. My attraction to her opened up all of the doors of the past, and I didn't see how dangerous Ava actually is. I forgot about her history with her ex, where she was accused of setting his porch on fire. I forgot how she’d been stalking me and breaking into my house on a regular basis just a few months ago. I even downplayed the night she broke in, stripped naked, and kneeled in my basement for who knows how long, before attacking Evelyn and falling down my stairs. That’s a bunch of warning signs, and I forgot about them the moment I turned around and saw her standing outside the theater.

  Evelyn looks at me, seeing the tears in my eyes, and finally manages to breathe normally. She's still glaring at me, but at least she's not screaming out all of our business for her neighbors to hear. I can tell she has a million thoughts in her head just like I do, but instead of speaking, she reaches out and takes my hand in hers. She rubs my palm with her thumb as her tears start to flow again, and we embrace a second time, both of us draped in emotion. We stay that way for a couple of minutes before finally separating and walking over to talk to the police.

  “So, what now?”

  “Well, we let the poli
ce do their job, just like Officer Jones just said. They'll track Ava down and bring her in for questioning.”

  Evelyn keeps her eyes trained on the floor. They're still red and wet from all the crying. This night has taken a serious toll on her, and part of me feels like she won’t stick with me too much longer. I feel like I’ve done nothing but bring drama into her life since the moment I set foot in her office for our first session.

  “What if they don't find her? You know she’ll probably go into hiding after this.”

  “They'll find her.”

  “You don't know that, Malcolm. I love your optimism, but I think you're forgetting that Ava set her ex-boyfriend’s house on fire and got away with it. She obviously has a lot of smarts to go along with her craziness.”

  “True. You can come stay with me until they find her,” I suggest, but Evelyn shoots it down in an instant.

  “She obviously knows where you live, too.”

  I sigh. “Okay, so how about we stay somewhere else? Let’s get a hotel until she’s in custody,” I say.

  “Together?”

  “Yeah, why not?”

  Evelyn looks at me with intrigue all over her face. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. I’m not asking you to move in with me or anything, but you're right—she knows where both of us live, so the only logical answer is for us to live somewhere else until we get this shit figured out. Once it’s over we can go back to normal.”

  We look at each other, both of us wondering if this is the right move, but we know it’s the only move that makes sense. It’s not like we’re getting married. It’s temporary. Until Ava is brought in, this is the only way to remain safe.

  Evelyn presses her lips into a thin line while she thinks on it, before nodding her head and looking at me. “Fine. Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”

  Chapter 21

  ~ MALCOLM ~

  Last night was strange. Sometimes you can feel when things are different without a single word being spoken. That’s how it was for Evelyn and I as we arrived at the Marriott hotel in Milford. We stood in the lobby in silence, rode the elevator in silence, and entered the room in silence. Even as we took in the beauty of the suite with a balcony we’ll be sharing for an unknown amount of time, the air around us felt awkward and tense. Evelyn’s car being set ablaze has changed something between us, and we actually went to bed without a single kiss. One minute we were lying in bed together watching TV, the next minute Evelyn was asleep and I was alone, which is precisely what I felt when I woke up this morning. Alone.

  By the time my eyes opened, Evelyn had already left for work in an Uber. Her side of the bed was empty, and there wasn't even a note left behind to assure me that everything between us was all right. When you're in a relationship, you pay attention to the signals your partner is sending, especially the ones without words. This morning, the signal sent by Evelyn was that she has been deeply affected by losing her car to a fire set by my ex-girlfriend, and she’s starting to wonder if being with me is worth the drama. Her leaving without saying goodbye also tells me she doesn't want to talk to me right now. Even apart, Ava is still manipulating and controlling my life, and that thought is hard to shake.

  Somehow, I manage to get dressed and make it to my office on time this morning, even while overcome by thoughts of Evelyn and Ava. When I walk through the door, Keisha is already sitting behind her desk wearing a black dress, with her hair in long braids. When I look at her, she nods toward the chairs in front of her, and I turn to see Kimberly Redden sitting alone. She’s wearing an oversized gray sweater and sweatpants to match, and she looks upset, with red eyes and a look of angry confusion on her face. Her dark brown hair is in a loose ponytail, and her full lips are bare today.

  “Good morning, Kimberly,” I say. I try to sound upbeat, but I still frown in confusion. “Is everything all right?”

  She nods, but her eyes fall to the floor.

  “Is Trent joining us?” I ask. She shakes her head, still looking down. “Okay. Let’s go inside.”

  I don't usually jump right into a session like this, especially when my own head isn't exactly in the right place because of my personal life. However, Kim looks like she’s in a bad place. She looks like she needs me, and I refuse to let one of my patients down like that, so I escort Kim into the room and we immediately fall into our roles. She sits on the couch with her elbows on her knees and her head down, while I toss my coat onto my chair and grab my notebook from my desk, before finally taking my place in my armchair on the side of the coffee table.

  “Okay, Kim, I can tell you're bothered by something,” I begin, making sure to keep my voice calm and soothing. I don't know what has happened with her and Trent, and she needs to feel comfortable opening up to me. “Tell me what’s going on. Let’s start with Trent. Why isn't he here?”

  Kim keeps her eyes on the floor, but even from this angle, I can see the anger in her face. She’s not just sad about whatever has transpired. She looks pissed.

  “He said he didn't want to come anymore. Ever,” Kim answers. “He doesn't like therapy. He doesn't like being told about himself. He doesn't like me being here. He doesn't like anything that makes him question himself or the way he does things, and most importantly, he doesn't like you.”

  I’m not surprised by this admission. I knew Trent didn't like me, and I've always been fine with that. It’s not my job to become best friends with my patients, so if I’m disliked, I try to work around it. It’s an added layer of difficulty, but the goal is to somehow still get the patients who don't like me to listen to me, regardless of their feelings. I knew Trent would be a challenge, but it was he who couldn't handle it, not me.

  “I see. Well, if Trent doesn't want to come, that’s certainly his choice,” I say, pushing my feelings about Trent to the side. “So, Trent doesn't want to attend therapy, but he’s okay with you attending?”

  Kim shakes her head. “No. He doesn't want me to come either. I called in sick to work this morning. He thinks I’m at home right now.”

  “Oh. I see. Okay.”

  “I came because I’m not sure anymore.”

  “Not sure of what?”

  “I’m not sure about anything,” Kim says as she finally repositions herself on the couch. She leans back and puts her hands in her lap as she stares down at her fingers. “Growing up, my father always talked down to me. He used to make me feel like shit, because he was always in my ear about my body shape or the way I dressed. Yet, he worked so hard for me. Don't get me wrong, we were still very poor, but my father worked hard to provide for us. His hard work let me know that no matter what he said about me, he still loved me and wanted to protect me. He wanted to provide for me. At the end of the day, my father wanted to keep me safe, and I loved him very much for it.

  “When I met Trent, he reminded me a lot of my dad. He was strong-minded and didn't have any problem saying what he meant. He was a hard worker, and even though he's jealous, I know it’s because he loves me and wants to protect me, just like my father. He’s jealous because he loves me so much. I know that’s the reason he acts the way he does, and when we first started dating, I found it endearing. It was so cute how he’d get all up in arms. Something about it has changed now, though, and I don't know if it’s me who has changed, or him. I just don't know anything anymore, and I’m confused all the time. I need help, Dr. Colson. That's why I can't stop coming to therapy. I need you to help me. I want to be a good wife, but I’m not sure how. I don't know if I have it in me.”

  By the time she's done talking, Kim has tears in her eyes. She keeps looking down at her hands, and I can tell she really is torn. From the look on her face, I can tell she's struggling with the idea in her head that Trent and her father love her, while trying to work out why they make her feel like shit. It’s textbook, really, and I’m proud to be able to help her out of the situation she’s in.

  “Kim, let me start by saying I’m very glad you're continuing with therapy. I’m glad you recognize your
confusion as something you need help with, and I’m honored to be able to help you, because I think we can move you out of the place you're in mentally and into a much better state of mind. You're a beautiful young woman, and you deserve peace and happiness. I’m going to help you claim it. We’re going to do it together.”

  As her first tear falls, Kim looks up at me. “Thank you, Dr. Colson.”

  “It truly is my pleasure,” I reply. “Now, I’m going to say something that may be hard to hear, but please bear with me. With all due respect to both your father and your husband, it seems to me you've gone your entire life being attached to men who have absolutely no idea how to love, respect, or appreciate you. So, to begin, I’m not going to have you start by working on your relationship. We’re going to begin with working on you.”

  Chapter 22

  ~ MALCOLM ~

  “I’m not sure I understand. How does working on myself make my relationship better?”

  I frown briefly, because this is a very common issue, and I often find myself disappointed when I meet a person who doesn’t understand that you can't be a good partner in a relationship without being comfortable with yourself. You can't love someone else properly until you properly love yourself. The two go together, yet it seems to be an unknown fact, so once again, I clear my throat and prepare to tell another patient something crucial to both their personal well-being, and the strength of their relationship.