I scrunch up my face in confusion. “I don’t think you’re hearing me.”
Gia leans forward. “You’re the one who needs to hear me, Dr. Wells. I may not have a fancy degree, but I’m pretty damn perceptive. And I know why you were so down at group yesterday.”
“You thought I was down?”
“You were. Staring at the door like a lost fucking puppy, waiting to see if your crush would walk through it.”
My heart speeds up. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve got the hots for Alexei. I can see it all over your face every time you’re near him. And when he skipped group yesterday, it broke your pathetic little heart.”
I’ve been trained to keep my composure in all situations, and I do. But inside, I’m anything but cool.
“Gia, you’re imagining things. Alexei and I have a strictly professional relationship.”
“Only because he doesn’t like you back.” She looks me up and down before giving me a disdainful glance. “Might want to lay off the carbs if you want to snag a guy like him.”
I’ve disliked patients before. But never with the intensity that I despise Gia right now. She’s just spiteful. Hateful. Ugly. And completely right about my feelings for Alexei.
“You’re used to manipulating people and situations to suit you,” I say, working to keep my voice calm. “This is just another attempt to do that. But you’re wrong.”
She gets up from the couch. “So kick me out then. And I’ll tell your bosses about your unprofessional crush on one of your patients. You can deny it if you want, but the beet-red blush covering your cheeks will give you away, just like they are now.”
“Gia—”
“If I’m going down, you’re coming with me.” She gives me a pointed look. “See you at group, Doc.”
She leaves then, the slam of my office door making me jump. I close my eyes and try to gather myself, taking a deep breath.
Shit. What am I going to do? I can’t graduate Gia just to avoid her ratting me out about liking Alexei. That would be unethical on every level.
But then again, my crush on Alexei isn’t exactly ethical, either.
I should have moved him into another group as soon as my feelings for him started, but I was too embarrassed to admit the truth. And now, that truth has me afraid for my job.
Walking over to my desk, I log on to my computer and work on case notes for Gia. I should put her verbal threat down in writing for documentation purposes. That’s what a good therapist would do.
But I don’t.
10
Alexei
The morning after I left Grayson’s office mid-session, I walk back through the same door, this time more like a dog with my tail between my legs. I skipped group yesterday, too, because I was still pissed and didn’t feel like talking yet.
After thinking about it all evening and well into the night, though, I’m not mad anymore. Instead, I just feel like a jackass. I need to apologize, but I’m dreading it. I’d rather take a direct hit to my face from an enforcer than apologize. I’ve never been any good at it.
“Morning,” Graysen says, getting up from her desk chair and picking up her legal pad. “Ready to get started?”
“Yeah.” I sit down on the couch and take a deep breath, rehearsing the words I’ve been going over again and again in my head since last night.
I was wrong. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.
“Let’s talk about the situations you found yourself in that made it easier to drink.”
She’s looking at the notebook in her lap, and several seconds of silence pass as I wait for her to look up at me. But weirdly…she doesn’t.
“Hey,” I say softly, trying to get her attention.
“Whenever you’re ready,” she says, writing something on her legal pad.
I wait some more, but she never looks up.
“Graysen?”
“Dr. Wells, please.” Her tone is detached and it hits me all at once—I really fucked up yesterday.
“Okay, Dr. Wells…I need to apologize about yesterday. I was wrong. It won’t happen again.”
“No need to apologize, let’s—”
“I definitely need to. You didn’t deserve that reaction. You were just doing your job, trying to help me. My brother’s a touchy subject for me, but that’s no excuse.”
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s talk about the places you liked to drink and the people who were with you. We need to identify your drinking comfort zone, so we can talk about ways to break out of it.”
She still hasn’t looked at me. I can tell that no matter what’s coming out of her mouth, she’s pissed at me. And I deserve it, but since I already said I’m sorry, I don’t know how to make it better.
“I get that I shouldn’t have done that,” I say. “And I shouldn’t have skipped the group session, either.”
“Alexei, it’s fine.”
Those are the two most untrue words any woman can utter. It’s fine means I am pissed as fuck at you, asshole.
I try the actions-speak-louder-than-words route instead.
“What can I do to show you I’m sorry?”
“You don’t need to do anything.”
I shift in my seat and run a hand through my hair. “Are you ever gonna look at me, or are you just gonna stare at that notebook for the next hour?”
Graysen lifts her gaze to mine and I see that I’m in deep shit. The warmth I usually see is gone. Her lips are set in a thin line.
“People walk out of sessions with me all the time,” she says in a clipped tone. “You aren’t required to attend any sessions here. There’s no need to apologize, okay?”
I feel like I just got boarded in a game. Graysen’s cold stare packs the same punch as having the wind knocked out of me.
“Then why are you being like this?” I ask her.
“I’m not being like anything. I’m your therapist. We’re here to talk about your recovery. Now let’s identify the triggers that make you turn toward alcohol. Places and people who are part of your routine.”
She’s back to looking at the notebook. Fuck.
“I’ll talk to my brother,” I offer, getting desperate for her to just smile at me. “You mentioned him coming to a session and…okay. Let’s do it.”
“I’ll see if I can get that set up.” She writes something on her pad.
“Is something wrong? Something besides me leaving yesterday?”
She looks up and gives me a tight smile. The woman who talked to me about herself yesterday for five minutes is nowhere to be found—it’s like a different person is here in her place.
“Everything’s fine. We need to get started.”
I sit back against the couch, defeated. I knew I was bad at apologizing, but I expected it to go better than this. I’m out of options, though, so I start talking about when, where and with whom I liked to drink.
The answers to those questions are sobering, no pun intended, because they’re every day, the nearest bar and with any friend or random woman who feels like getting loaded.
Getting clean is going to require me to change my entire life. And while I want to quit drinking, I’m not sure I can.
What’s worse is that I feel like I just lost the support of the one person in this world who thought I could. Anton’s right—I’m a complete fuck up.
* * *
“Hey Petrov, you suck!”
The heckler’s voice is the only sound I hear in the crowded arena. I look over at the stands, and he’s sneering at me from beside the penalty box.
“You oughta just move in here!” He points to the box and cackles. “Roll out a sleeping bag!”
I try to return my focus to the game, but it’s like I’m playing in slow motion. I’m skating and passing in a trance, not really aware of anything but the obnoxious prick yelling at me from the stands.
“Did you think she liked you or something?” He doubles over with laughter. “She knows you can’t stop drinking. Yo
u can’t do anything right.”
That’s it. I’m not listening to this asshole for another second. I decide to skate over there, climb the wall and punch his face in until at least a couple teeth tumble out. I’ll get suspended, but it’ll be worth it.
I can’t move, though. It’s like my skates are frozen to the ice. The game is being played around me, and no one seems to even realize I’m here. My former teammates pass, score and defend as I just look on in silence.
“You’re a loser!” the heckler cries. “Just quit hockey and drink away your life.”
He’s flipping me double middle fingers, his smile gleeful. I want to bend those fingers back until I hear them snap as they break.
“My grandma could kick your ass, pussy! You’re crippled now—all because you’re a dumb fuck drunk.”
Rage burns my insides as I try to move but find myself immobile. I can only stand and listen as the guy verbally pounds me, reminding me of my every inadequacy.
It’s not real. In the back of my mind, I have a faint realization that this game doesn’t count. That somehow, none of this is actually happening. I can’t escape, though.
The heckler’s voice changes then—it gets deeper.
“Give it up, Alexei. You’ve never compared to me and you never will.”
I turn to face him and shrink back when I see it’s not some random fan jeering at me now—it’s Anton.
Bolting upright in bed, I look over at the clock on my nightstand. 2:21 a.m. I was having another nightmare. I’m sweating and breathing hard, my heart still pounding from the anger and frustration I experienced during the dream.
What the fuck is up with me? Once again, I can only think of taking this dream straight to Grayson and asking for her thoughts.
I won’t, though. I’m not sharing something so personal with her only to get a frosty, clinical response. This time, I’m on my own.
11
Graysen
It’s been about twenty minutes, and I already know Jake will never find someone who compares to the person he’s deeply in love with—himself.
I agreed to meet him for coffee, and since the moment he went in for a full body hug when I arrived at the coffee shop, I’ve felt waves of disingenuousness coming off him.
“I’ll have to hit the cardio again tonight after having all this cream in my coffee,” he says, grinning at me from over the rim of his mug. “But you’re worth it.”
Somehow, I manage not to roll my eyes. The only thing I suspect Jake is being completely straightforward about is his love of the gym. He already told me at length how sore his quads are from his workout yesterday.
“What else do you like to have as a treat?” I ask him. “I make a great cheesecake.”
He wrinkles his face in disgust. “I don’t eat any refined sugar. I get my macros from plant-based foods and lean proteins.”
My attention wanders to a memory of seeing Alexei in the Beckett dining room last week. It was evening, and I was eating and reading a book before leaving work for the night. When I looked up, I saw him sitting several tables over, laughing with Joe while eating powdered sugar doughnuts. There was a ring of white powdered sugar lining his lips. He grinned and waved at me, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
Clearing my throat, I force myself to focus on Jake. “Oh, okay.”
He sips his coffee, checks out a passing waitress and then turns back to me.
“I always like to meet women over coffee, you know, because I’m not blowing a hundred bucks on dinner with a woman I’ve never even met. But maybe we could do lunch sometime? There’s a great vegan place by my office.”
I can’t believe how badly I misjudged this guy. He hasn’t asked me anything about myself the whole time we’ve been here. Yeah, I need to get my mind off Alexei, but not like this.
“Look, it was really nice to meet you,” I say, reaching into my purse and grabbing a five from my wallet, “but I don’t think it’s gonna work out. Good luck to you, though.”
I leave the money for my coffee on the table and walk out of the coffee shop, not looking back.
There’s no satisfaction in being right about Jake. I’ve been telling Amelia since I set up the coffee date that he’d probably be awful. In the back of my mind, though, I know that was just a defense mechanism. I was expecting the worst so I wouldn’t be disappointed.
And yet, I am. I had a flicker of hope that there would be enough of a spark between us to get my mind off Alexei. The attraction I feel toward my patient is keeping me up at night, especially now that I’ve put up a wall between us.
It’s so hard for me to be detached and strictly professional with him. For one, I don’t think it even is professional for me to be cold and seemingly unfeeling towards a patient. It’s my job to make a personal connection with everyone I treat, to let them know there’s no shame in where they are in life or how they got there.
The hurt on Alexei’s face when he’s in sessions now is like an arrow to my heart. I’m responsible for that. We were on the verge of real progress, too. His anger over his brother was actually a good thing. It meant he was expressing his feelings—no longer numbing himself with alcohol to avoid them.
I never got a chance to tell him that, though. Gia’s threat changed everything. I’m less concerned about being outed to my bosses by her and more ashamed that she could see the way I feel about him. I felt like an imposter that day when she called me out. Since then, I’ve questioned everything I’ve said to Alexei.
What a mess I’ve made. Now Alexei thinks I’m angry at him, and that’s the furthest thing from the truth. The only one who has anything to apologize for is me.
Instead of taking an Uber to the grocery store, I walk, welcoming the chance to get lost in the throng of Chicagoans out and about on this chilly winter Saturday afternoon. I counsel my patients not to get stuck in a rut of negative self-doubt, but I can’t seem to follow that advice myself.
Shift your focus. That’s an actionable step I tell patients to take, so I decide to try it. At the store, I gather all the ingredients to make beef stew for me and Amelia tonight. If she’s even home. But if she’s out on a date, a solo evening under a blanket on my couch with Netflix sounds pretty damn good.
I feel a pang of sadness when “Jingle Bell Rock” comes on over the store’s sound system. Christmas is a hard time for me every year, not just because of bad memories but also because I have no family to spend it with. Amelia’s family has always welcomed me and treated me like one of their own, but it’s just not the same.
Shaking my head, I realize I shifted my focus to something sad. I try again.
Maybe what I need is a pet. Something to love and snuggle and take care of without all the downsides of dating. I could get a cat. Maybe I’ll look at some animal rescue sites tonight.
After I check out at the grocery store, my enthusiasm for walking wanes, because now I have several bags of groceries. I Uber home, where I find Amelia painting her toenails in a kitchen chair, a towel wrapped around her hair and a green clay mask on her face.
“Going out with Paul tonight?” I ask as I set my groceries on the counter.
“Yeah.” She looks up from her toenails. “Hey, we could hang out here tonight if you want. We could all watch a movie or something.”
“Absolutely not. Go out and have fun.”
She looks skeptical. “You sure?”
“Yes. I don’t mind a night to myself at all.”
“I take it things didn’t go well with Jake?” she asks.
“No.”
I put away my groceries, swapping out the spoiled produce for the fresh stuff I just bought. Maybe this will finally be the week I actually use all the vegetables I bought.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Amelia gets up from her chair and comes over to help me.
“Not right now, but thanks.”
She sighs softly. “Okay, but…there’s something else we need to talk about.”
“Hmm?” I ask ab
sently.
“Your mom came by this morning.”
I turn around to face her, my heart pounding. “Here? My mom came here?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, God.” I cover my face with my hands. “How did she find me? Everything here is in your name to avoid exactly this.”
“She didn’t say how she found you…she just knocked and asked for you. I didn’t know it was her at first or I would’ve told her she had the wrong place. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
A wave of shame washes over me. I hate that Amelia saw my mother, even though it’s not the first time.
“She wants money, I’m sure,” I say, still bitter even though I know that’s the type of person she is.
“Yeah. And…”
My throat tightens with emotion. Part of me doesn’t even want to know.
“What?” I ask softly.
“I think she’s using.” Amelia gives me a sympathetic look. “You’ve never mentioned her being an addict, so I wasn’t sure if you knew or not.”
I swallow hard. Even after all these years—all the disappointments and dysfunction—my heart breaks a little.
“No, that’s…a new thing,” I say. “And it’ll only make her more desperate for money.”
“You need to be careful. Now that she’s found you again—”
“I know.” I sink down into a chair at the table. “Did she say anything about my dad?”
“No.”
I bury my face in my hands, unable to keep myself from crying. “If they’re back in touch and she tells him where I am…I wouldn’t put anything past him. I can handle her if I have to, but not…not him.”
“Hey.” Amelia puts her hands on my shoulders. “It’s gonna be okay. Do you want to go stay at my brother’s place? He won’t mind.”
I sniffle, my heart hammering. “I can’t stay there forever. I’ll just have to…I don’t know, prepare myself, I guess.”
“I’m sorry,” Amelia says again.
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