Rock the Heart

by Michelle A. Valentine

  Walking into the kitchen, the spicy scent of grilled meat floats around me and I lick my lips as the aroma fills my nose. “Hey, Sue. Need some help?”

  She smiles as she looks up from the chocolate cake she’s frosting. “Hello, Frannie. Thanks for the offer, but I’m just about finished. Hope you’re hungry.”

  “Starved,” I tell her with a smile as I pass through on my way to the dining room.

  Most of the clients are already seated at the table. I scan the faces and find myself disappointed that Tyke’s not here yet. The urge to kick myself comes over me. How stupid am I to be so excited to see him again. I just vowed to stay away from him.

  “Hey, Dr. Mead,” Randall says, nudging the chair beside him. “This seat is open.”

  A small amount of relief floods me. Sitting here guarantees that I won’t have to sit next to Tyke. I squeeze into the seat between Randall and Arnold. Like a gentleman, Randall stands to push the chair in behind me.

  “Thank you,” I say, watching as Josie, sitting on the other side of Randall, shoots an evil look in my direction.

  Clearly, she thinks I’m encroaching on her territory.

  Seconds later, Tyke enters the room and sits in the same seat he’s been at since his arrival. He’s eaten all his meals sitting next to me, so far. His confused green eyes rake over me. After the way I left him standing in the woods, I don’t know why me moving to another seat surprises him. We had sex—a one-time thing. There’s no need to keep up the charade of being close when we both know there’s no real future.

  Randall turns toward me with a polite smile. “So, Dr. Mead—”

  “Frannie, please,” I quickly correct him.

  His smile widens. “Okay, Frannie it is, then. What I was about to ask is if you have any big weekend plans two weeks from now?”

  I shake my head. “Not really.”

  “Do you like art?”

  “Yes. I appreciate art in a variety of forms.” My mind automatically drifts back to Tyke singing and how beautiful that was. He is truly an artist.

  “Well, as you know, I’m the activities director, and from time to time I like to plan outings for the clients. There’s an art gallery in a city that’s not too far from here, and I was thinking it would be nice to get out. Would you be interested in being the second chaperone?”

  The idea of leaving the property for a while is enticing. “I’d love that.”

  “Great.” Randall drums his fingers on the top of the table in a fit of glee and then addresses the rest of the table. “Everyone? Can I have your attention?”

  The small chitchat at the table stops and everyone focuses on Randall—everyone but Tyke, who’s staring directly at me. His eyes bore into me as he tilts his head toward the seat next to him. I give my shoulders a slight shrug and pull my lips into a tight line.

  I know he wants more of an explanation than that. Hell, if I were him, I would, too. But what can I tell him? Thanks for the sex? Maybe now, since we’ve acted on our desire for one another, we can focus on being strictly professional? He doesn’t want to hear that. He probably won’t even care.

  “In two Saturdays, we are going out as a group to the art gallery. For those of you who would like to go, please see me after dinner and express your interest,” Randall announces. “For those of you who do not wish to go, Dr. Shepherd and Timothy will be here on staff so that you may stay behind for independent reflection.”

  The clients’ excitement is evident. They must like getting out of here from time to time, since most of them are here for at least a month or more.

  For the rest of the meal, I feel the tension emanating from Tyke. Every time I look in his direction, his eyes are fixed on me. If he’s not careful, people are going to figure out something is going on between us and start prying, asking questions, and I’ll be forced to lie.

  No one can ever know what we did.

  When everyone is finished, Randall stands, and the clients immediately flock to him. Excited murmurs fill the room as everyone rushes to tell him they want to go.

  I stand and head for the foyer, needing to prepare for the group session I’m about to lead. When I get to the room, the door closing behind me startles me. Quickly, I whip around and my heart thumps against my ribs.

  Tyke stands a few mere feet from me, a perplexed expression on his face. “Do you want to tell me what the hell that was about back there?”

  I shake my head and turn back toward the table, focusing on the handouts I prepared for the session earlier in the day. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Unsatisfied with that answer, he steps next to me and grabs my wrist, turning me, forcing me to look at him. “Yes, you do. What’s with the cold shoulder? I thought we had things figured out?”

  I narrow my eyes and jerk my hand away from him. “Look, Tyke, I’m not interested in being your fuck-buddy while you’re stuck here. We had sex—one time. It’s not going to happen again.”

  He shoves his fingers into his hair and sighs. “I don’t think of you that way.”

  I want to believe that. To feel that I’m more to him than just some easy lay. After seeing how much emotion he put into that song he sang about me, it seems like I mean something to him.

  “How do you think of me then?” I ask before I even realize I’ve said the question out loud.

  He licks his lips and takes a determined step toward me, my hips fitting perfectly in his hands as he pulls me against his chest. “You’ve taken up every spare inch in my brain since I got here, Frannie.”

  I take a deep breath. “Don’t tell me lies, even if they’re sweet. You don’t have to do that with me. If you just want sex—”

  He tips my chin up with his index finger. “I don’t.”

  “Don’t,” I repeat and then close my eyes unable to look at him. “Don’t say things you don’t mean. I know what this is. I’ve been in situations like this before.”

  He tilts his head. “Why?”

  I flinch back and do my best to evade it. “Why what?”

  “Why do you think I’m just using you? Don’t you feel it?” he whispers, and the warmth of his breath floats across my lips. “The connection we have is insane. There’s no faking that. What’s happening between us is more than just sex, Frannie.”

  While I’ve felt an array of emotions for Tyke Douglas, the invisible rope pulling us together is just too strong. “Tyke...”

  “There’s no need to deny it. It’s written all over your face that you feel the same way.”

  I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. Soon you’ll be gone, back on the road, and where will that leave me? If we get caught, I’ll be jobless. I’ll have nothing, and you’ll have moved on and all this will have been for nothing.” Tears threaten to spill from eyes as I explain our reality to him. “There will never be an us. Ever. It’s not worth the risk.”

  “So that’s it? You’re done? Just like that? Can you really walk away from this—from the possibility of an ‘us’?”

  “Tyke, what choice do I have?” The quiver in my voice tells me I won’t be able to hold the tears back much longer.

  “You always have a choice, Frannie.” He steps back and grabs his chest with both hands, fisting the dark fabric of his T-shirt. “Choose me. We’ll leave this place together.”

  “I’ve worked too hard. I can’t—I won’t—walk out on a career for a man I barely know.”

  My heart squeezes in my chest as I see how desperate he is to hang on to what little bit of a relationship we’ve started, and how much my harsh words are a slap in the face. As much as I wish we could have a fairy tale romance, I know this is reality and happily ever afters don’t happen to broken people like us. It’s best to cut things off now, before we get in any deeper. “Besides, you’re not ready to run away from here. You still need help.”

  His face contorts with pain as he steps back from me. “You still think I’m a druggie, and yet you fuck me?” He turns away from me and locks his fingers behind his head.
“So we’re done? Just like that? Got what you wanted and now you’re ready to bounce? You’re just like everybody else in my life. You used me.”

  “Tyke.” I reach for him but quickly pull back, knowing that while it makes me a cruel bitch to hurt him like this, it’s the right thing to do.

  For both of us.

  He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The second he exhales, a look of clarity shines in his eyes. They meet mine. “Fine. If that’s how you want it, I won’t bother you again.”

  My lower lip trembles as I pretend to be unfazed by his decision, lifting my chin defiantly. “I think it’s best for both of us to remain strictly professional and pretend that we never allowed things to—”

  He holds up his hand, and his expression contorts once again. “Distance. I got it. Consider this afternoon forgotten.”

  I hate that I’m hurting him, but I don’t know another way to end this before we get too deep and I allow my heart to be crushed. I promised myself I would never care for anyone again. I don’t want to ever feel the pain that comes when a person leaves you forever. But the way he’s looking at me...it’s almost too much to bear.

  The door opens and we immediately step away from each other. The rest of the clients filter into the room, and I’m suddenly paranoid that they’ll be able to feel the tension in the between us.

  Tyke walks over and takes the seat furthest from where I’m standing. He stretches his long legs out and then throws one arm over the back of the metal chair next to him.

  He doesn’t look in my direction again.

  Chapter 10

  “Wicked Game” – Stone Sour

  Tyke As I sit here locked in a room full of people struggling with addictions, I know the point is to listen to their stories and find comfort in the fact that I’m not alone. The problem is, right now, I feel more alone than ever. Frannie’s words still ring in my head. I don’t know why I thought she was different; that I was special to her. It’s my own fault for reading into something that was never really there. She was right. We barely know each other.

  I do my best not to look at her as she sits across from me and leads the group therapy session.

  Now that I’ve tasted her, I don’t know if I can ever pretend that I haven’t. I get that this job means a lot to her, and that she wants to protect it, but doesn’t she care about hurting me?

  “—and that’s when I knew I had a problem. I couldn’t get my life back on track when she turned me down for the prom.” I fight the urge to roll my eyes at this idiot.

  The only thing I know about this Arnold guy is that he’s never been able to get over his high school crush turning him down. He’s a fucking nut job. Who lingers for years on a woman turning them down? A woman he never had a shot at to begin with.

  Next time I see Dr. Shepherd, I’m going to request not to come to any more of these sessions. What will listening to some crazy guy babble on do for me?

  I shift my weight in my chair, catching the attention of Josie Sullivan. She smiles at me from the next chair over, biting her lip and motioning to the empty seat I’m resting my arm on. I shrug. Josie takes that as an invitation and slides over next to me. At first I think about moving my arm, not wanting to lead her on because I’m simply not interested, but then I glance across the room and catch Frannie’s perplexed expression. I know it’s a dick move, but I want to make her jealous. I want to show her that just because she doesn’t want me, doesn’t mean that someone else won’t.

  Josie is an attractive woman. Fake, but attractive all the same. I’ve spoken to her in passing at the Grammys, but she was more interested in hitting on Noel. She’s a known fame-whore, and rumor has it she slept her way to her first record deal.

  Josie’s brown eyes stare up at me, and she flashes her best flirty smile. “Thanks for the seat.”

  As Arnold continues to prattle on about his most debilitating moments as a teenager, I lean into Josie’s ear and whisper, “You’re most welcome.”

  My eyes flit in Frannie’s direction. I see the pain in her eyes as she focuses all her attention on Josie and me, and that’s when I know it’s not over between us, giving me all the motivation I need not to give up just yet.

  I make it to Frannie’s office well before our scheduled appointment time. Last night while I lay awake in my bed, I did nothing but think of her. Making her jealous yesterday was fucked up on my part, but I was hurt and I couldn’t help but lash out.

  I tried to convince myself to let her go, but I still want her. There’s no denying that. But it can’t just be me—I want her to want me back just as much. The file she has on me probably gives her the impression that I’m some womanizing man-whore who has no feelings, and I hate that. I don’t want her to write me off just because she thinks what we did in the woods meant nothing. I need to make her see that I meant what I said about our connection being strong, and that I feel that, for some reason, we are fated to be together.

  I pull out another green guitar pick and write two simple words, Miss you, on the back, sticking it between the petals of the red rose I picked from the garden on my way here. I think about laying it on her desk, right in the open, to make sure she sees it, but decide it’s better for her to find it after I leave. I place the flower on her chair and then push it under her desk, hiding it from sight.

  After I’m satisfied with the flower placement, I take a seat on the couch and wait for Frannie. Moments later she comes waltzing into the room, her dark hair pulled up, showing off her slender neck. The black fitted jacket and skirt she has on gives off an extra edge of professionalism that I know is a message to me. It doesn’t make her any less appealing, though.

  “You look beautiful,” I tell her as she takes the seat across from me.

  She crosses her legs and rests her tablet in her lap. “Tyke.”

  There’s a warning in her voice, but that doesn’t slow me down. “It’s not okay for me to tell you that you look nice now?”

  She shakes her head. “No. Professional, remember?”

  I hold my hands up in surrender, not wanting to push her anymore. “I’ll be good.”

  She stares at me for a long moment, and then once she’s satisfied that I’m telling her the truth, she slides her glasses onto her face. “Did you write anything down in your notebook?”

  I open the notebook and stare down at the only song that came to mind last night. Besides humming the tune to “Ball Busting Bitch”, I also found myself singing another song. A song where the guy doesn’t want to fall in love, but the woman on his mind is the only one in the world who can save him. The pain in the lyrics hit me last night. The game Frannie and I are playing is totally wicked—one that can destroy us both. Desire has made us foolish and we’ve done something we wouldn’t normally do in order to sedate it.

  I clear my throat. “I wrote down another song title.”

  She tilts her head and asks in a voice that’s barely above a whisper, “What is it?”

  I chew the inside of my cheek. “‘Wicked Game.’”

  She leans back in her chair. “Can we not make this session about you and me?”

  My eyes widen. That wasn’t exactly the reaction I was expecting. “You wanted me to write down songs that came to mind, and all I did last night was think of you.”

  She pulls her glasses off her face. “I’m sorry if you feel like I’m playing games with you. It was never my intention to lead you on. I take full responsibility for what happened, and I apologize to you for that. I promise it won’t happen again. I don’t want you getting the wrong idea.”

  “The wrong idea? I know you want me, just like I want you.”

  Her tough exterior cracks a bit as her eyes drift up to the ceiling. “Tyke, please,” she whispers. “Can we just focus on the reason you’re here?”

  My entire body stiffens. “I’m pretty sure I’m cured. I’ve haven’t had benzodiazepines for nearly a week, and I’m perfectly fine.”

  She frowns. “There’s no curing an
addiction. Being here, detoxing away from temptations, is the easy part. Living with it—battling every single day—is where the real work begins, and sometimes—” She cuts herself off and takes a deep breath. “Sometimes you fall off the wagon.”

  I shake my head. “That’s not going to happen to me.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” she lectures.

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Why do you say that? You can’t possibly know that I won’t be able to stay away from it. It’s not like you know what it’s like.”

  She licks her lips like her mouth has suddenly gone dry. “Actually, I know exactly what it’s like to fight an addiction.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “What could you possibly be addicted to? You’re perfect.”

  “There’s something you should know about me.” Her blue eyes focus on me. “I struggle every day, and since you came into my life...” She pauses and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’m a recovering sex addict.”

  Her admission catches me off guard. “Sex addict?”

  My mind spins, trying to get a handle on exactly what she’s just said.

  Holy—fucking—shit.

  “Are you fucking with me right now?” I ask, making sure this isn’t some sort of sick joke.

  “I wish I was,” she whispers.

  I scrub my hand down my face as the shock turns to anger. I think about us fucking in the woods yesterday, and how she immediately cut me off afterwards. “Is that’s why you blew me off? I’m your relapse?”

  She shakes her head. “No.” She hesitates and then sighs. “Well, yes and no. What happened with us...it was more than just giving in to my baser urges. When you sang that song about me, it touched me, and I couldn’t help but give into the physical urge my body craved. I had no intention of beginning a relationship with you.”

  Things begin to click. “Jesus. You’re just like all the other groupies who wanted to screw me.”

  “No!” she shouts and then quickly covers her mouth and then whispers harshly, “It’s not like that.”