“Talking won’t do me much good.”
“Okay, how about we take a walk outside?”
His head sliced up and down. I grabbed my coat and asked him if he wanted to get his. “I won’t be needing one. Have you looked at me? Really looked?”
Of course I had, but I didn’t want him to know I’d been ogling him. Sweat was rolling out of every pore that I could see. “It’s cool out there. You may get chilled because you’re sweating.”
“I would welcome that.”
His choice. We headed out the back to a nature trail and walked. “Tell me about your night,” I said after we’d been walking for about five minutes.
“Constant cravings. All fucking night.”
“What had you been doing prior to them hitting you?”
“I was in bed. They hit about midnight.”
“Can you put your finger on any triggers?”
“No, dammit. I’ve been trying to figure that out and I can’t. It doesn’t make sense. I’m lying there and bam. All of a sudden it’s all I can think about.”
Maybe it’s your damn guilty conscience that’s eating at you.
“You’re frustrated I can see.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Well aren’t those enlightening words. Is that all they taught you in counseling school?”
“Okay, I’ve about had it with your insults. I’m supposed to be your sounding board and help you get through the struggles, but don’t you dare take out your addiction issues on me.”
“Maybe if you’d actually help me, other than suggest we take a walk, I wouldn’t. I’m paying an ass load of money to be here and this is all I get?”
“No, but you haven’t been here long enough for anything to sink in yet. I’m trying to help you uncover your triggers and if you’d shut your damn mouth, maybe we could both come up with some sort of solution. Can we at least try?”
He stared at me and let out a groan.
“Look, your brain is completely scrambled right now. Being on alcohol and opiates does that. Then, going off of them does it again. I’m going to be honest and I don’t know what Dr. Martinelli told you, but it’s going to take at least a year for your brain to normalize … to get back to what it was before you ever started using. At least a year, Pearson. Drugs work in the central nervous system and that’s why we suggest an antidepressant. They help with the normalization process. They would make things easier on you, but you have refused that path, so we have to work with that. Your expectations should be one day at a time and if that’s too much then make it one hour at a time. Until you can comfortably reach your goal, keep it within that time frame. Does this sound reasonable?”
He blew out a breath and said, “I guess my expectations are higher than that.”
“Then lower them. Always set attainable goals. Now more than ever this is so important. It’ll be much easier to measure your progress too. For example, if you set hourly goals, you’ll be able to say to yourself, hey, I didn’t think of using for this entire hour. Keep a journal too. That helps immensely.”
He rubbed his arms again, which was common.
“You also have to quit defying me,” I said.
“I’m not,” he said in a rebellious tone. He reminded me of my daughter when she was about to get disciplined.
“Yes, you are. You think I’m not capable.”
“No, I—”
“Pearson, I’m a psychologist. I’m trained to read people and I can figure things out. I can see it in you that you don’t have much trust in my abilities.”
“It’s not that. I don’t think you like me.”
I almost staggered. No, I didn’t like him. I hated the man for how he ruined my life, but I was doing my dead level best to help him. “That’s not true.”
“Then why did you treat me like shit in my first session?”
“I’d had a rough morning.”
“And you took it out on me.”
He had me there. “I did and I apologized for that.”
“Well, I’m having a rough morning and I’m taking it out on you. I apologize, but I need help.” He again sounded childlike.
“I’m trying to give it to you.” Damn, the man was frustrating.
He raked his hands through his hair and walked away. “Where are you going?” I called out. He didn’t answer but kept walking. I ran to catch up with him.
“Exercise helps so I’m walking fast,” he finally said.
Fast wasn’t the word. I had to jog to keep up with him and could barely talk. “Do you exercise daily?” I huffed and puffed the words out.
“Yes, and from the sounds of it, you don’t.”
“I do yoga. I don’t run.”
“You should. You sound like you need some cardio in your life.”
Damn him. He always knew how to poke the bear. I finally gave up because I got the worst stitch in my side that doubled me over. Now I remembered why I hated running. I turned around and backtracked until I got inside. I was still fuming when I ran into Sylvie.
“Hey, your cheeks are bright red.”
“They should be. I was just out for a run.”
“A run?”
“Oh, never mind.” I stomped back to my office where I sat with a pot of lavender in my lap and inhaled it for a solid ten minutes. That’s where I was when Mr. Testy came back by. When he saw me, he laughed. “I’m glad I can amuse you so.”
He turned away, and I could hear him laughing all the way down the hall. Asshole.
Our next several sessions were quite the same and I had a devil of a time breaking through his brick wall or the concrete his skull was made out of. I wasn’t sure who was more frustrated, him or me. I wanted to kill him. He was devious in the way he answered my questions, always turning the tables on me, exactly like the prick of an attorney he was. That’s what he did to me in court as he brought me to tears. This time I didn’t cry, I only threw things. At night, I found myself drinking more than the occasional glass of wine and it was then I realized if I didn’t do something, I would be a patient myself at Flower Power, right along with that dickhead, Pearson West.
So, a couple of weeks after struggling to be an objective and fair counselor, I decided it was best to pass Pearson along to someone else. When Sylvie came into her office on that following morning, she found me waiting for her.
“Rose, what are you doing here?”
I slapped all of Pearson’s files on her desk and said, “I’ve found that in the best interest of Pearson West, it’s not possible for me to be his psychologist.” Sylvie’s brows nearly met as she frowned.
“What’s happened?”
“First off, the man is a total douche. Second, I haven’t been completely honest, and I probably should’ve refused the case from the start, so it’s not his fault, but mine. Pearson was Greg’s attorney in our divorce, and I find that I’m more than a little resentful toward him. In fact, I hate the asshole.”
“Oh, God. I’m sorry. He does have that killer reputation in the courtroom.”
“Don’t I know it,” I said sourly. “He destroyed my life.”
“Did Pearson destroy it or did Greg? Pearson was only doing what his client asked of him.”
“True, but …”
“You’re right to pass him off. I’m not saying that. But I want you to take a look at his side of things. He’s good at what he does. He didn’t know you from Adam. All he knew was what his client fed him. He did his job.”
I moaned. “And I’ll be facing huge bills if I go back to court because I have to do something about Montana.”
Sylvie thrummed her pen on the desk. “Maybe Pearson can help you.”
“Help me? Why would he want to do that when he was Greg’s attorney?”
“I don’t know, but we can ask.”
“We can’t ask him until he’s through here. I don’t want to upset his progress,” I said.
“You may be right. Do you want to tell him or shall I?”
“Te
ll him?”
“That you’re not going to be his psychologist anymore.”
Shit. I was totally out of it. “Maybe we both should.”
“Not a bad idea. When is he scheduled?”
“Ten.”
“I’ll be there.”
I had one client prior to that so I rushed to my office to prepare. It was a very tedious session as my mind was not very focused, but I would make it up on our next visit.
Five minutes before ten, Sylvie arrived. I hadn’t been this nervous since I’d faced Greg in court.
“Don’t worry. We’ll explain everything and he’ll be fine.”
I didn’t have time to respond before there was a knock and he waltzed in like he owned the place. When he saw Sylvie, the surprise was genuine.
“Hi Pearson, have a seat,” I said, indicating to one of the empty chairs.
“From the looks of things, I take it this is going to be more than our usual session,” he said.
I began by saying, “Actually, we aren’t going to have a session at all. I’ve not exactly been fair to you these last couple of weeks.” Then I froze as his compelling eyes latched onto mine. Thank God Sylvie stepped in.
“What Rose is trying to say is there is somewhat of a conflict of interest here.”
In a demanding tone, he said, “Clarify, please.”
They both turned to me and waited, but the words were locked somewhere between my brain and throat. My mind was completely scattered.
Sylvie continued, “Here’s the problem. You were Rose’s ex-husband’s divorce attorney and it’s caused a bit of an issue for her.”
“I see.”
“It’s not as simple as that, Pearson,” Sylvie said. “Her ex was awarded custody of their child and now Rose is very worried about her.”
I watched for a reaction. He sat there calmly as though Sylvie had said the sky was blue. Anger crawled up my spine and that’s when I discovered the use of my tongue.
“Yes, but worried barely touches the way I feel. My daughter’s entire demeanor has changed in the last year and my ex makes it very difficult for me to see her on my weekends.” I glared at him.
Sylvie stepped in and said, “Rose, back down. Take some deep breaths.”
Then he had the nerve to say, “I’m sorry it worked out that way, but you can’t blame me for a failed marriage.”
“Excuse me?” I wanted to lunge at the bastard and punch his face in. Oh my God, he was creating feelings of intense violence in me. I fisted my hands in my lap.
“Your marriage failed, and I happened to be the attorney your husband hired. If you had hired me, things would’ve turned out differently. I’m not the one to blame here. I was only doing my job.” He said it so matter-of-factly, I wanted to scream.
“Yes, and now my daughter is suffering because of it,” I said through clenched teeth.
He steepled his fingers and stared a hole through me. The weight of his gaze set my skin on fire, not to mention my temper. “Let me get this straight. Your ex was awarded custody and now you’re blaming me because your daughter’s behaving differently. Is that correct?”
“Yes. No! He didn’t deserve custody.”
“Well, he must have if he got it.” His arrogant attitude was my breaking point.
“Why you ass—” I leaped to my feet coming to stand directly in front of him with balled fists.
“Rose! That’s enough!” Sylvie said, coming to her feet as well. “I think it’s best if I separate you two.”
“This is my four-year-old daughter we’re discussing,” I yelled.
“Rose.” Sylvie’s voice held more than a note of warning. “Please sit back down.” I did as she asked.
Pearson sat there and I did happen to notice two long creases between his brows and a muscle twitching in his jaw. Maybe that counted for something. Who knew?
“Pearson, I had thought of asking you for help here. Rose is really in a bind. I may be speaking out of turn, but I’ve known her for quite a while, and she is an excellent mother. She didn’t deserve to lose custody. Her ex is not a good man. You may have been doing what you were hired to do, but it has cost her dearly. Is there any way you can help?”
This was unexpected and Sylvie took me by surprise. My jaw nearly hit the floor.
“Unfortunately, I can’t due to conflict of interest. But I might know someone who can. He’s a friend of mine.” Pearson glanced at me.
“I don’t have much money to pay him. Having to pay child support has really strapped me.” I couldn’t help the snarky tone.
His thoughtful gaze zeroed in on me. “We can work something out.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that. With his arrogance, it probably included lots of sexual favors. But if he could gain me custody of my daughter, I’d do anything.
“Rose, I know you think the worst of me, so maybe I can redeem myself a little. Or try anyway.” His expression was honest and open, which surprised me.
I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt. “I’m not gonna lie. These last couple of years have been the hardest … I can’t begin to explain.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to. And I can’t imagine because I don’t have kids.”
Silence enveloped the room until Sylvie broke it. “Rose, what do you have to lose?”
“Nothing, I guess.”
Pearson asked, “Can you furnish me with a copy of your divorce decree and custody papers?”
“I’ll bring them tomorrow.”
“Good. I’ll take a look at them and give you my first impressions. I also would like to ask you a few questions about your ex-husband afterward.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll still need to assign you to another counselor, Pearson,” Sylvie said.
“I understand. I hope we can move forward, though, and not have any hard feelings.” He stared pointedly at me.
“I’d like that.”
Then he smiled and had I not been sitting, my knees would’ve buckled. Why did he have to be so damned handsome? Most people who came through here looked like hell, but not him. He managed to look like he stepped out of the pages of a magazine.
When he stood, I managed to thank him. He dipped his head and left.
“Damn,” I muttered.
“What?” Sylvie asked.
“He’s so … so good looking.”
She chuckled. “Yeah, and you should see the other two.”
“Other two?”
“His brothers. But they’re married.”
“I’m sure when that happened, women all over the universe wept.”
“Don’t know about that but they are gifted genetically.”
“I’ll say. But thanks for bringing that up.”
“Rose, if anyone can help you, he can.”
I shrugged. “You heard him though. He can’t actually do it.”
“Maybe not, but he can guide his friend. I have a really good feeling about this. Besides, now you don’t have to get yourself all worked up over him.”
“What do you mean?”
She tapped my arm. “I think there’s more to this than just him being your ex’s attorney. You’re attracted to him.”
“I’d have to be dead not to be. He’s sinfully hot. My ovaries practically leaped out when I looked at him.”
Sylvie stood and gathered his chart and her things. “Well, this means you are free to pursue him.” With a wink, she left before I could respond.
“Are you nuts? We can barely tolerate each other. I’m surprised he agreed to help me, but I’m sure it’s only because of you.” This was so unlike her. Our code of ethics here was not to get involved with the patients. Why on earth would she make such an outlandish comment like that? I didn’t have time to ponder it though, because my next patient was due in five minutes, which gave me very little time to prepare. I’d better hustle if I was going to be ready.
Chapter Eight
Pearson
* * *
For the first time in
my life, guilt slashed through me for winning a case. When I walked away from Rose’s office, I headed straight to my room to change clothes in order to work out. The tension rolled off me in waves. How could I have represented a client such as that? Then I wondered how many people like Rose I’d destroyed over the years, all in the name of a few dollar signs.
All I wanted right now was the blissful release of heroin, or a few drinks at the very least to numb my brain. In the absence of those, I jumped on the treadmill and ran until the demons that chased me were flushed from my mind, and my legs could no longer support me.
I don’t know how long I was down there, but I glanced up to see Sylvie staring at me.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m better now.”
“You missed group, meditation, and lunch, so I almost sent out the posse for you.”
“What time is it?”
“One forty-five. Wanna explain to me what’s going on?”
I scrubbed my face. “It has to do with Rose.”
“I see.”
“No, Sylvie, I don’t think you do. What she told me this morning opened up a huge can of worms you might say. I’d never thought of what I did for a living as wrong, but in the end, I may have hurt a lot of people in the process.”
“In doing your job?”
“Yes. Maybe I was too good at what I did.”
“Are you open to suggestions?”
“Right now, I’m open to anything.”
“You’re here for at least another few weeks. Why don’t you come up with a plan for what you’re going to do when you get out.”
“You mean a new career?” I asked.
“Exactly. It sounds like you’ve become a bit disillusioned by what you used to do. So why not reinvent yourself while you’re here? You might think this is crazy but when people go through rehab, many times they realize what they were doing in their previous lives was why they ended up there in the first place.”
That was something I hadn’t considered before. “I always just thought it was the shoulder surgery that got me hooked.”
“Was it really the surgery though?”
From Smoke To Flames— Amazon: A West Brothers Novel Page 5
