Pieces of Summer (A stand-alone novel)(45)
“Yes, darling, I did,” the guy drawls.
Chase rolls his eyes, but he smiles over at me while walking toward the register I’m in front of. When he steps behind the counter, I swivel on my stool to give him room, and he pushes a few buttons until the register drawer pops out and he puts the money in. He also grabs a few dollars like he’s making change.
When he’s finished and shuts the drawer, he reaches over and thumbs my chin, winking at me again. “You were sleeping peacefully when I left. I have the impression you don’t do that often, so I didn’t want to wake you up just to say bye.”
Instead of saying something stupid, I just nod. At least I don’t feel like my skin is crawling anymore. I did what I had to do to silence the crazy, and now I can leave.
But I don’t.
I stay while he works tirelessly on that guy’s chest tattoo, and my eyes stay fixed on him. His intensity and focus are sexy, so is the way he shifts and moves. Never knew tattooing could be sexy.
After a couple of hours, he dabs the ink and the buzzing ceases. The guy on the chair looks down at the finished chest piece and back up to Chase.
“You’re too f*cking good to be inking in this shithole town, boy. When you going to come to Montgomery?”
Chase smirks while shrugging. “Don’t know. I may or I may not. Depends on how things work out here.”
When his eyes meet mine, my mouth dries. He’s moving? Why hasn’t he told me? Big cities are strictly prohibited because of the special precautions I have to take. Only small trips are acceptable. Such as visiting Dr. Stein.
His look changes to confused when he studies me, but I look away, slipping off the stool. As the two guys talk to Chase, I tune them out, walking back to my car as my shoulders grow heavier.
This was stupid. Chase can’t be with me. I can’t be with him. This is a game of Russian roulette, but I’m the only one facing the gun with every turn. Not that Chase knows. He still thinks I’m the somewhat quirky, but otherwise normal girl from his past.
He has no idea at the hoops I have to jump through just to have a semi-normal life now. Three years ago, I finally got to start living on my own. I even celebrated something so small and insignificant to most people in their twenties.
Chase calls to me from the doorway, but I just turn and give a tight wave before getting in my car. I wish I could drive for a few hours, but I can’t do that. It’s not allowed. I’m not allowed to drive anywhere for longer than fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes exactly. Not a minute over. I can drive anything under fifteen minutes. Any longer, and it has to be someone else driving.
Shaking my head and forgetting the numbers, I back out and head back to my house, pulling out my phone as I turn into my driveway. There’s a phone call I’ve been avoiding.
Aidan hates me having a psychiatrist on call, but only because of the way Dr. Kravitz treated me. I was his favorite lab rat, and he put me on the hamster wheel like I was a science experiment instead of a person. Regardless of his cold and indifferent methods, he possibly saved my life at a much quicker rate than anyone else could have. But since I don’t need psychological boot camp anymore, I now have Dr. Stein, who is a gentle-spoken, very reserved woman who goes at the speed of a turtle with therapy sessions. It took my brother a long time to warm up to my new shrink. And even though she’s a psychiatrist, she doesn’t spoon out drugs. No drugs allowed.
“Dr. Stein’s office. This is Carol. How may I help you?”
“Carol, it’s Mika. I was wondering—”
“Mika, oh my gosh, we’ve been so worried about you. Are you okay? Did something happen? We haven’t been able to reach you or your brother.”
“I called and left my new number. I couldn’t keep my old one. The area code wouldn’t have matched the new residence.”
She grows quiet for a second. “I would have found that message, sweetie,” she says softly. “Is it possible you just think you left that message?”
It is possible, but I’d have to defer to my notes to find out for sure. Sometimes I accidentally write something in on one of my stories and confuse it for a real situation instead of the other way around like it’s intended for.
“Yes,” I say quietly.
“Okay, so I’ll patch you through to Dr. Stein. She’s been worried about you and told me to buzz her immediately if you called.”
The line goes quiet, and seconds later Dr. Stein is picking up. “Mika, it’s so good to hear from you.” The relief and warmth in her tone isn’t her typical clinical tone. It’s not allowed in her field to get too attached, but I know she’s attached to me. She hates Dr. Kravitz and his boot camp methods, and the pity she felt for what I’d suffered has made me special to her.
“Sorry I waited so long.”
“We agreed to speak regularly via phone and Skype, Mika. That was the deal, since I couldn’t find a qualified professional to deal with your particular case in that area that went with your fifteen minute driving limit.”
Blowing out a breath, I get out of the car and walk inside. We didn’t set estimated times. Just vague promises without definite timeframes.
“I know. I’m sorry. But I haven’t had any incidents at all. In fact, I accidentally dropped and broke a tray of glasses one day and I managed to pick them up and throw them away without mashing them to bits to make them the same size. I also haven’t had any issues with the bowling alley. Hunter handled it without giving me any timeframes, and I have two incredible managers who handle all the time slots, schedules, call-ins, and such. None of that gets relayed to me, just like you told me to do.”