Not Broken: The Happily Ever After(33)

“I don’t think you do.”

“Yes, I do. You’re ready to give me another lecture on—”

“Dance with me.”

“What?”

I put my hand out toward her. “Dance with me.”

Her face contorted into a frown. Being asked to dance was probably the last thing she expected, but it was the perfect thing. She was already on the defensive; therefore any conversation would have ended badly.

“I’m supposed to dance to no music?”

Reaching down, I took hold of her hand, and pulled her up. My free arm slid around her waist as I began swaying our bodies. “The crickets are playing our song.”

She was stiff and resistant at first, but I kept moving, humming softly. Eventually her body began to relax. The arm that was dangling by her side slipped around my waist, and she rested her head against my chest. They were little actions, but they made me smile. Anything that I’d wanted to say to her when I stepped out here I put on hold. We could talk another day. For now, I enjoyed a dance with the woman I loved.





Chapter 18


Calida





Three weeks since I’d last been at Dr. Carr’s office. I’d had to talk myself into keeping the appointment when I woke up, and again when I’d parked in the parking deck. I knew I’d have to see her at some point after my accident, but that didn’t stop me from trying to put it off as long as possible.

The basic pleasantries were out of the way. My knee bounced uncontrollably until I finally got up to move around. I assumed my preferred position in front of the window. Here I could talk without facing the scrutiny of her eyes.

“Anything happen over the last few weeks that we need to discuss?”

“Dorian’s living with me.”

“That is an unexpected development.”

“I suppose. She invited herself.”

“And you let her?”

I wasn’t sure if that was a statement or a question, not that it mattered. Macy and Malcolm had the same reaction.

“Sometimes it’s easier not to fight.”

Scratching of pen against paper. That sound was beginning to be my version of nails on a chalkboard.

“Sometimes the easy way isn’t the best way.”

I shrugged, turning back to face her. “It’s the well-worn path I chose to take.”

“Who benefits from that?”

“I don’t know. It’s not something I thought about.”

“Maybe you should. If you keep taking that ‘well-worn path’ as you call it, how are things ever going to change?”

“Is this where you ask me that cliché question about the definition of insanity?”

She laughed and shook her head. “I don’t do anything cliché if I can help it.”

I retook my seat. “Might as well get this out of the way instead of trying to ignore the elephant in the room.”

“I didn’t know there was one.”

I rolled my eyes. “You won’t do cliché, but you’re not above playing dumb.”

A smile spread across her face. “That’s not what I was doing. I’m not here to force you to talk about things you don’t want to. You should know that by now.”

I knew she was right. Patient led therapy; that’s how she conducted things. At times, she would try and push if I got on a certain topic, but never too much. She didn’t need to. Dr. Carr had a way of getting some information out of me simply from a look, or by using those questions meant for self-reflection she was so fond of.

“So, you don’t want to know what sent me into a panic attack?”

“I think you want me to know, but you’re not ready to talk about it yet.”

“If that was the case, I wouldn’t have brought up the topic at all.”

More note taking before she flipped back in her notebook, checking her notes from our last session. Looking back up at me, she pushed her glasses up on her nose, made another note, and then she took the opening I’d stupidly given her.

“Last time, we’d just entered new territory about your relationship with Seth when you cut the session short. You’d equated your relationship to that of Pavlov’s experiments. Saying Seth had systematically conditioned you to get the responses he wanted. One of those things being the name Ginger, something Malcolm calls you, and you said Seth tainted it. How did he do that?”

My eyes closed. A lump formed in my throat. The memory of the first time Seth called me Ginger quickly escaped its cage, running full speed into the forefront of my mind. The feeling of terror from that night was just as intense today. I began twirling Malcolm’s ring around on my finger.

“He…um…he…” My hands clenched and unclenched as I tried to get the words out. I popped up from my chair, shaking my hands as I walked in circles. My heart rate increased. I took long, slow breaths, swallowing repeatedly, fighting against the nauseous feeling. I’d let him use me that night. I’d asked for it, trading my body in hopes it would appease his anger. My nails dug into my palms, I squeezed my eyes shut, and pressed my lips together, needing to shove that memory back where it belonged.

“Calida.”

The sound of my name startled me. Dr. Carr stood beside me, with a tissue in hand, and concern showing on her face.