“Yeah. Except she's sleeping with Jake.”
There was a bit of bitterness in her voice. “They'll probably be good together,” I said, placing a hand on her hip and leading her toward my car.
“They're not together. They're just sleeping together.”
“Sure about that?” I asked, smirking. “Those two will be dating in under a week. Mark my words.”
“I thought you were a sexologist, not a love expert,” she said and I felt my face harden.
“True,” I said in a clipped tone as I opened the door for her. That was the damn truth. If I was a love expert, I wouldn't have fucking fallen for a patient. Jesus Christ.
I got behind the wheel and we drove in pained silence until we pulled into the garage where her car was parked. “We have our final session on Monday.”
“I know,” she said, looking at her hands in her lap.
“Seven.”
“As always,” she said, getting out of the car.
The door slamming had such a finality to it that I felt it reverberate somewhere deep inside my soul.
After the Session
I went to the group home to counsel the kids.
I helped Eddie skim his walls.
I tried my fucking best to not think about her.
But I thought about her.
A lot.
Tenth Session
Monday came fast. I spent my time wondering what kind of session we would have. I thought about all the ways I could touch her, kiss her, press memories into her skin.
But in the end, I wouldn't be able to do it. To touch her, to kiss her, to be with her. I couldn't do it. Not with knowing that the entire session would feel like goodbye.
I poured myself a drink and sat down in the chair I had for our introductory session, staring unseeingly at the wall for god knew how long.
“Chase...” her voice called softly into the room.
My head turned slowly. “Is it seven already?”
“Yeah,” she said, walking toward me. “Are you okay?” she asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
I gave her a humorless smile. “That's my question.”
“Well, I'm borrowing it,” she said, sitting down across from me.
My hand rubbed across my brow. “You look better.”
“Better?” she asked, her brows scrunching together and fuck if I didn't want to kiss her.
“Yeah, I don't know. More like yourself.” I sucked in a breath, believing to my core it would be the last chance I would get to say it, “You're beautiful.”
Her cheeks went pink and her gaze lowered. “Thank you.”
I watched her ducked head. “I figured you wanted a talk therapy session,” I said, waving a hand out. Frankly, I didn't know what the hell she wanted. I just knew it was all I could handle.
“Yeah... I... yeah,” she stumbled over her words. “How does this go?”
“We can talk about anything you want. How you think therapy went. Any concerns you have for the future...”
“How do you think therapy went?” she asked, wringing her hands.
I sat up slowly, putting my elbows on my knees, making me invade her little space. “Ava, you did so much better than I anticipated.”
“Yeah?” she asked, sounding like she needed the validation.
“Yeah baby,” I said, then winced at the word. I couldn't call her that anymore. “Yes,” I corrected, my tone more firm, professional. “I really wasn't sure we would finish the sessions in the allotted amount of time. You were so withdrawn and timid and then you just... is blossomed too cliché a word?”
“Chase... I can't thank...”
“Don't,” I said, the word heavy. “Don't thank me, Ava.”
The silence that followed felt weighted. It felt full of things that we needed or wanted to say, but couldn't.
“Ava,” I said, before I could think better of it. “Can you come here for a second?” I asked, holding an arm out.
She got up and moved toward my chair then stopped. My hand reached out and pulled her arm toward me. “Closer.”
Her eyes rose to mine, a question there. She bit the inside of her cheek before she made the decision and slid onto my lap. I didn't so much as hesitate as I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tightly against my chest. My cheek went down on her hair and I just... held her.
No words were said.
We just did what we were good at- being there for each other.
Her face tilted slightly and she placed a soft kiss against the material of my shirt. I squeezed her tighter as the clock ticked an hour of our lives away, my hand moving up to stroke through her soft hair.
“Chase...” she said quietly.
“Yeah baby?”
She sighed. “You made me so much better.”
“No, babe. You made yourself better. I just helped you along.”
“Geez, learn to take a compliment, would you?” she asked, trying to lighten the admittedly depressive mood in the room.
I chuckled a little. “You're amazing, Ava. Don't ever let anyone try to convince you otherwise. Promise me that.”
“I'll try.”
“Not good enough,” I said, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Try again.”
She snorted, shaking her head at me. “Okay. I'll really try.”
“You're impossible,” I said, a small smile toying with my lips. “In the future when you're with someone and...”
“The moment,” she said, cutting me off.
“I'm sorry?”
She tilted her head up to look at me for the first time since she got onto my lap. “Someone once told me to be in the moment,” she explained. “I think that was pretty good advice,” she said, lying her head back on her spot.
“Okay,” I said and the silence fell again.
It wasn't long before we both slowly drifted off to sleep.
Her whole body jolted, jerking me awake. “Hey,” I said, my voice sounding rough from sleep. “You alright?”
“Dream,” she explained, her head looking toward the clock and then she was pulling out of my arms.
“Where are you going?”
“It's almost one,” she said, reaching for her keys and wallet.
“So what?” I asked, sitting forward.
“I just... it's time to go,” she said and if I hadn't been so consumed by my own, I might have heard the sadness in her words.
I downed the rest of my scotch to steady my nerves. “I'll walk you to your car.”
“No,” she said quickly. “No. I'm fine. Stay here. Relax. You look... tired.”
I fucking was. Down to my bones.
“Ava...”
“Thank you Chase,” she cut me off, moving toward the door quickly and closing it behind her.
I looked at the closed door for a long moment.
So that was it.
She was gone.
Fuck me.
After the Sessions
Twenty Minutes
I got drunk. Too drunk to drive home.
I walked into the bedroom, kicking out of my shoes and moving toward the bed. I fell down into it and climbed under the sheets, rolling onto the side where Ava used to lay.
Which was a mistake.
Because the sheets and pillows smelled like her.
Vanilla.
Sweetness.
Everything I would spend my life missing.
Five Hours
My phone screamed into the silent space, making me spring up in bed and reach for it off the nightstand.
“'Ello?” I said groggily into the receiver.
“Is this Dr. Chase Hudson?” the voice asked and suddenly I was not only sober but more awake than I ever had been before. Because I knew that tone of voice. I knew who used that tone of voice.
“Yes.”
“This is St. Mary's hospital,” she started and I was already in my shoes and moving through my office.
Fucking fucking fucking Eddie.
“Is he alive?” I barked, not needing the shit they spoon fed all the worried families. I needed the facts. I needed something to either solidify or brush aside the swirling sickness in my stomach.
“Yes, he's alive.”
“He overdosed,” I guessed as I threw myself into my car.
“I'm afraid so.”
“Is he stable?”
“Yes. Unconscious. But yes.”
“I'll be there in ten,” I said, hanging up the phone.
Alive. Stable.
I walked through the emergency room doors ten minutes later, my feet feeling like cinderblocks were attached to them. Heavy. I fucking felt... heavy.
“Eddie Gregori,” I told the nurse at the station.
She glanced down at her paperwork. “Right this way, Dr. Hudson,” she said in the somber tone they used for situations like that - when the only fucking person you had in your life OD'd. Again.
People always said loved ones in hospital beds looked small. That had never been true of Eddie. He always seemed to swallow them up. Like they weren't meant for men like him.
He was pale and almost bluish under the lights. But he was still huge. Still healthy looking. Well, that would be true if he didn't have a bunch of tubes sticking out of him. Fluids. A respirator.
“He was brought in an hour ago. The doctor gave him Narcan which he has responded to. He should be back to normal in a bit...” she said, letting her voice sound a little more cheery than was necessary.
“Thanks,” I said, moving toward the side of his bed and taking a seat on the stool. I heard her thick soled shoes make their way out of the room and I rested my forearms on Eddie's bed. “You have some timing,” I told him, shaking my head.
There was no response. Of course. It wasn't some cheesy movie. It was real life. Loved ones didn't miraculously wake up because you spoke to them. But he would wake up. I was going to be there when he did. Then I would be there to guide him back on track. Into rehab. Into outpatient treatment. It didn't matter how many times he dragged me down to the hospital, heart in my throat praying it wasn't the time I would get there and be told he didn't make it. I would be there.
I wondered as I sat at his bedside if it all wasn't just a way for me to try fix the past. I had to save Eddie because I couldn't save my mother. I had to save the kids at the group home because I couldn't save myself. I had to save Ava because I couldn't save Mae.
I hung my head on that heavy thought, listening to the monitor beep out Eddie's heartbeat. It was a hollow kind of comfort. But it was fucking all I had left.
Six Days
I wasn't the kind of man to wallow, to wrap my disappointment and sorrow around myself like a protective barrier. That wasn't me. I knew better. Situations had to be dealt with and then they needed to be moved on from.
So I convinced myself that was what I was doing when I pulled out the number I had written down from my machine at work.
Natalie's number.
Calling her was a way of moving on, of moving past the churning black hole that was taking up residence where my heart used to be.
So I called.
And I set up a date.
Seven Days
I spent the whole next day feeling fucking sick about it. I spent the day feeling like I was betraying Ava.
But I told Mary to let Nat into my office before she left for the night on Monday. I walked her through to the bedroom to pour us drinks, then very pointedly moved her back into my office, closing the bedroom door.
Natalie took in the whole thing with a raised brow, sitting down on the side of my desk and making her skirt hike up on her thigh.
“You've done well for yourself,” she said, gesturing around.
“I heard you have as well,” I nodded, knowing she had finished school and went back to teach women's studies.
She shrugged away the compliment, sipping her drink. “I was surprised you called,” she admitted, watching me.
“Why?”
“Because, Chase, when we were in our twenties, you couldn't keep your hands off of me. Even when we were fighting. It was always an intensely physical relationship. The other night at Chaos... you barely looked me over.”
“I noticed you weren't wearing a bra,” I countered.
She rolled her eyes, setting her drink on the far end of the desk then cocking one of her legs up on the arm of my chair so her skirt slipped up high. “What color are my panties, Chase?” she asked like a challenge.
And, fuck, she was right.
I didn't even want to look.
“Exactly,” she said, putting her leg back down. “So what is going on with you? Because I know I haven't lost it,” she said with a confident smirk. “You got yourself a woman?”
I laughed humorlessly, raking a hand through my hair. “No.”
“That's not a 'no I don't have a woman', that's a 'a woman has me, but I don't have her',” she told me, a brow raised, daring me to contradict her.
Jesus Christ.
When did I become so easy to read?
“Something like that,” I nodded, saluting her with my drink.
“Damn,” she said, nodding.
“What?”
“For a shrink, honey, you were always pretty clueless about yourself. You always seemed to think you got out of your shitstorm of a past without scars. Babe, they're all over you. And you have always kept people at arm's length so they couldn't see them.”
“Nat...” I said, shaking my head.
“Don't Nat me. We dated for a year. We were practically living together for a year. You know how I knew about your mother? Eddie told me when he came over to your place drunk one night while you were at the library. You never once mentioned the fact that you found her body. You never told me that she was bipolar. You never told me that that was why you went into psychology. You never let anyone in on that.”
Fuck me.
I let Ava in on that.
Easily.
Like it meant nothing.
I hadn't even thought of hiding it.
“This woman,” she pressed, watching me, “does she know about her?”
“Yes.”
“So, back to my original statement: damn. I never thought I would see the day when you let someone in, Chase. I never thought you would roll up your sleeves and show a woman your damage.” She paused, looking at me hard. “What's she like?”
A part of me wanted to tell her, wanted to get it off my fucking chest.
I couldn't.
“She's gone,” I said, shrugging. “That's about all there is to know.”
Unphased, Natalie rose from my desk. “Want to come to the university next week and be on a panel for my class?” she asked.
“A panel?” I asked, not trusting her tone.
“A panel of men,” she clarified with a smirk.
“Will I leave with my balls still attached?” I asked, feeling a smile toying at my lips for the first time in a week.
“I don't know. I have a particularly ruthless class this year. If you give them so much as a hint that you're disagreeing with them, well, no promises,” she said, making her way toward the door to the waiting room. I followed her.
“Alright,” I said, reaching for the doorknob.
“Thank you so much, Dr. Hudson,” she teased in an old, familiar way.
But I wasn't paying attention.
Because the second I opened the door, my eyes found Ava.
She was standing at the reception desk, a big envelope in her hands that she was in the process of putting down.
“Ava?” I asked and even I heard the wonder in my own voice.
Sharp as ever, Natalie didn't miss it either. Her head snapped in Ava's direction and a knowing smirk went to her lips. “I will see you next week,” she said, glancing one more time at Ava before she quickly moved to leave.
Ava took the opport
unity to drop the envelope and turn to follow the path Natalie had just walked.
“What is this?” I asked and she froze for a second.
She turned slowly, her chin lifted slightly. “That,” she said, her tone a little sharp, “is your payment. Which was apparently and, I assume, mistakenly canceled.”
“You were just going to leave three thousand dollars in cash on the reception desk?”
“You always seem to be... the last one out. I figured you would find it first. But... yeah. So... now you have it,” she mumbled, “and I'm... gonna go.”
She didn't get a step before I called her. “Ava,” I said, and she stilled again. “It wasn't a mistake.”
She turned slowly, her face looking guarded. “What?”
“It wasn't a mistake. I am not billing you.”
After the night when she called me drunk... yeah the idea of billing her for sessions felt dirty, wrong.
“Why not?”
Christ.
I was going to tell her.
To fucking hell with the consequences.
I ran a hand down my face. “I need a drink,” I said, turning back toward my office. I went to the sidebar, mixing drinks, and handed her a martini before I threw back my scotch. “Can you come sit down with me for a minute?” Her eyes went to the couch with what I could only describe as suspicion. I moved over and she chugged her drink before following and sitting down a full cushion away from me. “I'm not billing you.”
“You said that. You haven't said why.”
“Fuck,” I said, rubbing my hand over my brow. How the hell could I even start to explain? I looked back at her, resigned to get it over with when I noticed how red and puffy her eyes looked. “Have you been crying?”
“Chase answer my question,” she said, not answering.
“Answer mine,” I countered.
She sighed, shaking her head, knowing I wasn't going to back off until she told me. “Not today,” she admitted in a small voice.
Dr. Chase Hudson (The Surrogate Book 2) Page 16
