To Have It All(51)

“How are you today, Max?”

I snorted. If he were asking me, Liam, I’d say shitty. The unwanted raging hard-on kept me up all night then Pim decided to wake up at 5 a.m. this morning, and I was functioning on three hours of sleep, but he wasn’t asking Liam, he was asking Max. I guess, since to the best of my knowledge, Max was in a coma trapped in my body, he would probably answer he was doing shitty, too. I couldn’t explain any of this to Dr. Banahan, so I went with a simpler answer.

“Not too bad.”

“Would you like to start where we left off last time?” he asked as he closed his folder.

Sitting up, I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my knees. “Actually, no. I want to do something a little different today.”

He raised one furry brow in question. “Okay . . .”

“How long have I been coming to therapy now?”

He stared at me blankly. “Not long, Max.”

Twisting my mouth, I took a moment to mull over how to say what I wanted to say. “I want you to tell me what you think of me based on what you know about me.”

“Think of you?” he inquired.

“We’ve talked about a lot, right? My life and history?” I was going out on a limb with those questions—I had no idea what they might, or might not, have discussed in Max’s sessions, but it made sense to me Max probably shared more with this guy than anyone else.

“We have,” he replied simply.

“So based on that, tell me what you think of me, or why you think I’m the way I am.”

His stare fixed on mine, his mouth flat. “And you want complete honesty?”

“I do.”

“And you’re ready to hear it?”

“I am,” I promised.

Plopping the folder on the table beside him he sat up a bit more in his chair and cleared his throat. It was evident he was preparing himself for this; possibly to say things to Max that he was scared, or had wanted to say to him for a very long time. “If I’m being completely honest Max, the last time I tried to offer you my insight, you took great offense to it. That was at our last session.”

That explained why he called to see if Max would show up to the appointment. Apparently, he’d given Max some hard truths, and Max hadn’t liked hearing his assessment. Leaning back in my chair I promised, “I’m ready to listen today.”

With a bob of his head, he surmised, “Good. That shows growth.”

“Hit me, Doc,” I told him. “I want it all.”

He inhaled deeply through his nose. I could tell he was apprehensive, but after a moment he scooted forward in his chair. “As we discussed last time, I believe medication will help with your bipolar disorder.”

Leaning back in my chair, I stared at him. Max suffered from depression. So, he wasn’t just an asshole after all. At least, not completely. He was sick.





“Earth to Max,” Waverly said loudly as she waved a hand in front of my face. I blinked a few times, trying to clear my head. “Coming to the park this afternoon was your idea,” she sassed. “Do you plan to be present for any of it?”

Inhaling deeply, I nodded. “Yeah. Sorry,” I apologized. Central park was busy, but not overcrowded. After I’d gotten home from meeting with Dr. Banahan, I needed to clear my mind. The doctor had much to say regarding Max Porter. I thought going would be beneficial; that I would discover key information about the man who’s body I inhabited, and I did. I found out a lot. Too much. Dr. Banahan had so much to say about Max we agreed to meet again when two and a half hours didn’t prove to be enough.

Coming home and staying cooped up in the apartment felt unbearable. Waverly put up a little fight about my idea that she, Pimberly, and I take an outing to the park, but when I mentioned ice cream and Pimberly squealed with excitement, Waverly folded. I had to force Helen to go home, insisting she get some rest. I knew she had to be exhausted even though she denied it.

We’d walked and visited the animal exhibits that were open to the public and had just finished off our excursion with ice cream. Glimpsing down at Pim, she had chocolate ice cream smeared all over her chubby face and hands, and her shirt was stained with it. “And . . . she’s a mess,” I chuckled.

“It was your brilliant idea to take her out for ice cream when it’s hotter than Hades out here,” Waverly quipped. Damn this woman could be a smart ass.

“I didn’t see you complaining when you downed that double scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream,” I argued. When she cast an eye roll my way, I snorted a laugh.

Waverly held her crutches together, using them for balance, and bent down to grab wipes out of Pim’s diaper bag. Her gray shorts, which looked more like sexy pajama shorts to me than shorts you wear in public, rose up as she bent over, showcasing her amazing ass. Two guys walking by both slowed their stroll and turned their heads doing an obvious double take.

Something surged through me. I don’t know if it was anger or jealousy. I didn’t take the time to analyze it before I reacted. “Move along, assholes,” I warned, my body tensed. They gave me a quick scan, to which I bucked at them, before they glanced at each other and bolted away.

What was that? I mean they were acting like assholes and deserved to be called on it, but why did I feel so protective? And angry? Shaking my head, I inhaled deeply trying to calm myself. With each day, the steroid withdrawals were less and less, but my mood still bounced a bit. The steroids must’ve been why I reacted so strongly. Waverly stood upright, her face flushed from being bent over and balancing on one foot, and asked, “What?” She was clueless about the two douche bags that had just had their stares fixated on her ass.