by Amy Brent
“How about this? There are things I advise, such as working out and vitamin D supplements. For some people, if they don’t get enough sun, it can contribute to rising severity issues with depression. If you don’t want to exercise outside, then get an all-natural vitamin D supplement and work out inside. Something like Zumba or yoga. These are easy on the body but gets your blood pumping and gets you moving. We can try that for a couple of weeks, chart your sleep patterns, and see how you feel,” I said.
“Thank you, Brandon. Really,” she said.
I shivered in my seat as my name rolled off her tongue. It was sweeter than I ever could have imagined, and I smiled as I looked down at my notepad.
“Do you have any hobbies?” I asked.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because this is also where I advise my patients to either indulge themselves in a hobby as well or to pick one up. Do you have a hobby you enjoy?”
“Not really. Just taking care of Sarah and working,” she said.
“Pick up a vitamin D supplement, work on a yoga or Zumba regimen, and find a hobby you might enjoy. Take ballroom dancing classes or make time to read. Do you read the way you used to?” I asked.
“Not in a very long time.”
“Those are your three tasks for this week, supplement, yoga four times a week, and indulging in a hobby that helps relax you, one that might even bring a smile to your face,” I said. “In the meantime, I’m going to give you my personal cell phone number.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” she said.
“No, no. I do this with all my patients who are starting a new regimen. If you start feeling overwhelmed or overly depressed or even suicidal, call me. Immediately. If I don’t pick up, leave a voice message. I’ll call you back, and if I have to make a house call, I will.”
I scribbled my number onto my card and handed it to her. I wanted her to use it. I wanted her to call me. I wanted to pick up my phone and hear her voice on the other end of the line. I sat there and watched as she punched my number into her phone, saving it before she put the card in her purse. She turned her eyes to me, and I could see just a small glint of happiness there. A small flickering flame that didn’t seem as dim as last week’s appointment.
“Same time next week?” I asked.
“It’ll be best for me, yes,” she said.
“I meant what I said, Melissa. Anytime you need to get ahold of me, just call.”
“I will, Brandon. I promise.”
Then I watched her leave. I watched her hips sway lightly with each step she took as her blouse fluttered around her torso. I watched her hair blow behind her as she walked down the hallway, her shoulders slightly slumped like she was carrying an entire world upon her shoulders. I wanted to chase after her, sit her down, and talk with her until she cried it all out. I wanted to hold her tonight and meet the beautiful little girl she had created. I wanted to show her the beauty this world still had to offer while I held her hand tightly within mine.
But I settled for watching her get into her car from the window of my office as she drove off down the road.
Maybe she would need me sometime this week, and if she did, I would be there.
Chapter 12
Melissa
Tuesday was a fucking nightmare. I couldn’t get Brandon and the way he got personal with me in our session off my mind. It was like it effortlessly slipped from him. He wanted to know. He wanted to know how he had impacted me. He sat there as I talked about how my husband healed me from the wounds he caused, and he listened like a gentleman.
Or a doctor. Or whatever the fuck was happening.
It felt easy, talking to him like I was talking with my best friend. In some ways, it was easier to talk with him than it was with Ava. I talked about what I wanted to talk about. I told him how heartbroken I was over what he did. I told him about how it shattered me. I told him that I went to bars and cried into my drinks, and maybe that’s why I didn’t like them anymore. Maybe bars reminded me of how I was once broken, cast out and rejected by the first man I had ever truly loved.
I couldn’t concentrate on any of my work. Every time I checked my calculations, I always came up with something different. Every time someone called my name, I imagined it in his voice. I’d melted into his couch every single time he had said my name at that appointment, and I knew the moment I plugged his number into my phone that I was traveling down a bad path. I felt like a lovesick girl who was pining over the hunk in school. Except this hunk had broken my heart in one of the worst ways possible.
“Earth to Melissa. You there?”
“Sorry, Ava. What were you saying?” I asked.
“Nothing, that’s the point. I’ve got lunch, and you’re staring at your desk. You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m just thinking. I had my appointment yesterday with Brandon,” I said.
“Was it bad?” she asked as she sat my salad in front of me.
“No. Not at all. I got to tell him how much he hurt me, and how Carl came by and healed everything he had broken.”
“Wow. How did that shit feel?” she asked.
“So good,” I said. “He actually looked as if he felt bad. And he was genuinely interested. He told me he wanted me to get some vitamin D drops, start yoga, and take up a hobby. Possibly reading like I did when I was in high school.”
“I like that he isn’t doing medication first,” she said.
“Oh, he wanted to. I told him no,” I said.
“Well, good for you! And fuck him,” she said.
I speared a bit of my salad as Ava’s eyes danced around my face. I could tell she was clocking me, reading me like a book as I reached for my water. I cracked the bottle open as her eyes stayed locked onto my face, and finally, I broke and began to spill everything.
“I’m just so confused, Ava. And stressed in a completely different way. You know I actually put on some mascara for that session? Mascara, Ava! I didn’t even realize I still owned any.”
“I noticed you were a bit dressed up yesterday as well, too,” she said.
“I have no idea where any of this is coming from. I was looking forward to that session, and he kept pressing tissues into my hands and making our skin touch.”
“He’s touching you in your sessions?” she asked.
“Not intentionally and not like that. It’s just that rehashing all this stuff with those baby blue eyes looking at me. It’s …”
“Dredging up old memories?” she asked.
“In some ways, I come away from our sessions feeling crazier than I already do,” I said.
“And that’s completely understandable. Just know you can switch doctors. I’m sure he will more than understand,” she said.
“Do you think I should?” I asked.
“Honestly? I’m not sure. On the one hand, I don’t want to see you get hurt. On the other hand, I think it’s about time your body got interested in someone. I just don’t want to see you jeopardize your mental health success and get hurt by him again. He does have a track record with you.”
“I know.”
“Just be careful. Know your limits and your boundaries and don’t allow yourself to push them. When all is said and done, this is for you. Period,” she said.
“I hear you loud and clear.”
The rest of the day was just as distracting. I had nothing to turn in to my boss because I couldn’t stop thinking about Brandon’s lips, and when I went to pick Sarah up from school, I noticed that one of the teachers was built like Brandon. Tall. Muscular. His strength didn’t pull at his clothes like Brandon’s did, and suddenly my mind was showing me what it would look like to rake my fingernails down his chest. The entire ride home with Sarah in the backseat was spent squeezing my thighs together, and by the time I got her home, fed, and in bed, I was close to tears.
My clit was swollen beyond reason, I couldn’t move my legs without friction that shivered my spine, and all the while, I kept thinking about his tongue plung
ing in and out of my depths.
I panted, catching myself against my wall as images flashed through my mind. Images of him pinning me to my bedroom wall and fucking me senseless. Images of me on my knees sucking his cock as he came down my throat. Images of my body riding his hips as he pounded up into me like the virile man he was instead of the immature little boy he had been.
And then I passed by a picture of Carl.
It was the one picture I couldn’t take down. A picture that was taken of us while we kissed at the end of our wedding. His long, lanky limbs were wrapped around me, pulling me close as he bent me backward. There was a smile on his cheeks. My foot was raised off the ground and my hands thrown around his neck as I clung to him for dear life.
Here I was, pining over the asshole he helped me to heal from while his very aura still hung heavily in this house. Along these walls. In this picture.
In his daughter’s eyes.
I backed up from the picture as my back hit the wall, and I slid down to my ass. I felt like I was cheating on him, betraying him in some way. Tears poured down my cheeks as my mind battled between my clit pulsing for Brandon and my heart longing for Carl. My jaw quivered as I closed my eyes, trying to block out my thoughts and stop my mind from racing so badly.
Why the fuck did Brandon take me off my fucking medication?
I crawled to the kitchen and pulled myself up to the counter. I grabbed a wine glass with my trembling hands as my breathing came in short spurts. I poured myself a glass of wine and chugged it before I quickly poured myself another one. When my hands were still shaking after the second one, I thought back to what Brandon had told me. I could call him at any time, and he’d be there to talk with me.
I poured myself a third glass of wine and made my way to the kitchen table. My knees were weak, and my breathing was still shaky. I pulled my phone from my robe and scrolled until I saw his number, and for a split second, I hesitated. My chest hurt from heaving and my eyes burned from crying, and before I could stop myself I pressed the call button and held the ringing phone up to my ear.
“Dr. Brandon Black speaking,” he said as he answered.
“Brandon,” I said breathlessly.
“Melissa? Is that you? Are you all right?”
“I don’t think so,” I said as I took another gulp of wine.
“Take deep breaths for me. Just try, okay?”
I tried to breathe deep, but the breaths were choppy. My chest was heaving, and my stomach was turning, and all the while, Brandon was coaching me on when I should inhale and when I should release. I closed my eyes and allowed his voice to drench my body, covering me in its raspy low tones as my hands slowly stopped shaking. Soon, my breathing was even, and my mind was settled a bit, and I no longer felt like I was choking on my own panicked state.
“Can you hear me?” he asked.
“Yes. I can,” I said.
“You sound better. How’s your breathing?” he asked.
“It’s all right, I think. Still hurts, but it’s even.”
“That’s good. That’s good. Chances are, you had a mild panic attack. Are you sitting down?”
“I am now, yes,” I said.
“Good. Now, talk to me about what you were thinking about before it happened.”
Should I be honest with him? Should I answer that question in full? I didn’t want to risk losing him yet. Not when I’d just got him back. That pang of guilt still stung my body, but I was able to drown it out as I chugged my third glass of wine.
So, I decided to give him the bare minimum answer in the hopes that he would leave it be.
“I was thinking about Carl and about how Ava tells me it’s time to move on and find someone who makes me happy. I felt his awful pang of guilt curl my stomach as I looked at a wedding photo of ours I just can’t take down yet,” I said.
“I can see how that would start a mild attack. When did you have this conversation with Ava?” he asked.
“This afternoon, at lunch. She said it was time my body started craving someone or some crap like that.”
He chuckled into the phone, and I could feel my body relaxing at the sound of his voice. We talked into the small hours of the morning, not hanging up the phone until close to three o’clock. We talked about Ava, and he mentioned a little bit about a colleague of his. Dr. Michael Smith. I recognized the name from the nameplates on the doors adjacent to him, and for once, I got him to open up a bit about his life and about how he and his doctor friend go get drinks from time to time and how he and his mother are still close.
Of course, most of the conversation was geared toward me. He wanted to make sure I was going to be okay when we hung up the phone, and I smiled at the compassion that seemed to be emanating from his voice.
I told him I was all right now that I’d talked to him, and I could feel the smile radiating through the phone against my ear. I enjoyed talking to him more than I should have, and as I laid my head down on my pillow, I found myself hoping he’d make use of my number now that he had it.
After all, even a world-renowned psychiatrist needed someone to go to.
Chapter 13
Brandon
I walked into the office with a bit of a smile on my face. I felt like I was standing a bit taller, like my legs had grown longer overnight. The last couple of nights as I settled in after tucking in Max, Melissa had called. The first time was because of a panic attack, but the past two nights she called, we simply talked like old friends. I enjoyed talking with her greatly. It reminded me of the nights I’d climb up to her bedroom window, and we’d sit on the sill and talk. Her giggle fluttered into my eardrums and ingrained itself into my brain, and I’d fall asleep with the image of her smile imprinted on my eyelids.
I felt fantastic talking with her.
Her voice had deepened a bit since we last talked. As a girl, she had this light, innocent tone to her voice. Now, she sounded like a woman. Sultry with a bit of playful attitude thrown in. Some nights, we got into deep conversations about her sleeplessness or how she woke up crying that morning. Sometimes we talked about the things that happened in my marriage, and sometimes we talked about fights her and Carl had, but there were two things we never broached.
We never talked about why I married that awful woman or the fact that I had a son.
I left the office that evening preparing for our next conversation. I knew she would call, and I could hardly contain my excitement. I had to admit, her voice was sexy as hell, and coupled with the feminine body she had wrapped up in her work clothes Monday, it was a hard image to let go of. I had moments in the shower where I didn’t bother attempting to contain myself, and I even had moments where I thought about what she might look like underneath those clothes.
I had no idea what the conversation tonight would bring, but as I lay down in bed around eleven o’clock, my phone began to buzz on my nightstand.
“Hello there, Melissa,” I said.
“Good evening, Brandon. How was work?” she asked.
“It actually flew by. I’m glad you called.”
“Why’s that?” she asked.
“I suppose I’ve been enjoying the talking we’re doing. How did you do at work today? How’s Sarah?”
“Sarah’s good and work was, well, work. Lots of numbers and calculations.”
“I actually don’t think I know what you do for work,” I said.
“I’m an accountant for the tech company up the road from you,” she said.
“Out of all the things I thought you would do, that was not something I ever considered,” I said.
“Yeah, well. I suppose we fall into things sometimes,” she said. “I always knew you’d find your way to helping people, though.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“Because you helped me,” she said.
“I don’t think so. I think all I left you with was hurt and heartache.”
“Leading up to that wasn’t hurt and heartache, though. You exposed me to things my p
arents would’ve never imagined me knowing. You taught me things, broadened my horizons, so to speak. Had it not been for you and your encouragement, I probably would’ve gone to the community college they wanted me to just so I didn’t create any more friction in the family.”
“I take it you guys still don’t talk?” I asked.
“Nope. They’ve never even met Sarah. Don’t even know they have a grandchild.” I could hear the sadness in her voice, and my heart ached for her. How the hell could two parents do to their child what they’d done to Melissa? Having a son of my own, I could never imagine him doing anything that would make me disown him and never want to see him again.
