Shattered Dreams (Boys of Bellerose, #3)(59)
I hesitated a moment, tempted. But ultimately, I shook my head. “No, you don’t need me listening in and making shit awkward. My session is after yours, though, so I’ll be back before you’re done. Just going to go kick Gray’s ass for his crappy drumming in Dublin.”
That… and I needed to psych myself up for talking to the doctor myself. I still wasn’t totally sure I had the nuts to go through with it… but I had to try. For Billie, and for myself. I owed it to myself to make the most of my opportunities, I saw that now. The best form of vengeance was happiness.
Hey, that might make a cool song lyric.
twenty-six
BILLIE
My session with Dr. Candace helped me come to terms with three heavy-hitting issues.
Number one: I had feelings for Angelo, and that couldn’t just be ignored endlessly. We’d kissed, and that toothpaste couldn’t be put back into the tube. The only way to move forward without making things sour between us was to address the situation. Maybe it was just a lingering crush on the memory of him. Maybe he didn’t feel the same way. But the only way to know for sure was to ask.
Number two: Jace was a petulant, spoiled brat. He was also more than likely lying his ass off about fucking a groupie last night, purely to make me jealous. Mature? God, no. But drastically better than him actually fucking a random girl after our elevator quickie.
Regardless of Dr. Candace’s much more mature advice, I decided I had a couple of options on how to handle this problem. And I knew myself well enough to know I’d be unlikely to take the high road. Low road was infinitely more satisfying.
Number three: I needed to clear the air with Grayson. Right now, we were just hanging in limbo, constantly tense and avoiding each other, but that was no way to continue. It was already impacting their music, and at the end of the day as Dr Candace had pointed out, a big part of me knew he wasn’t as guilty as I’d initially assumed. If I truly believed he’d murdered my parents and tried to kill me, I wouldn’t still be here. I wouldn’t be traveling with him, staying in the same hotels, attending his shows. I’d be sitting in a police station, giving evidence and demanding justice.
Also, I had already fallen in love with the big, grumpy fuck. That was why it’d all hit me so damn hard, and I was really struggling with heavy doses of guilt for dividing my heart so many different ways.
Rhett had returned right on time as my session finished, but when I made to leave the room and give him privacy, he’d grabbed my hand.
“Stay?” he asked in a tight voice. His brow beaded with sweat, and a tiny tremble shook his fingers where he clasped mine. His eyes were huge and round, pleading. “Please, Thorn? I want you to know all my damage, but I don’t want to tell this story twice.”
Shocked, I gave a nod and sank back down onto the bed. I would stay, offering support, but I wanted to blend into the background so I didn’t distract him from Dr. Candace’s guidance. Rhett flashed me a relieved, thankful smile, then took my seat in front of the computer and webcam.
After introductions, I watched Rhett slowly relax. Dr. Candace had a calming energy, even over the video call, and Rhett was responding to her a hundred times faster than I had. Then again, no one was forcing him into treatment; he was here willingly because he wanted help.
I admired that.
Sometime later, after Dr. Candace had gently eased him into talking about himself, she redirected the chat to ask the question burning at the front of my mind.
“Do you want to tell me about why you booked this session, Rhett? As lovely as it is to meet one of the men healing Billie’s heart, I suspect there is more on your mind.”
Rhett shot a glance my way, and I offered a reassuring smile back. “Yeah. Ever since Billie started these sessions with you, it got me thinking that maybe I should deal with some of my… damage.” He took a deep breath and blew it out in a heavy sigh. “I guess… my concern right now is that maybe I’m being too needy and possessive with her, when I know it’s not fair to the other guys.”
My jaw dropped, but I bit my tongue before voicing my protest. This was his session; I was just here for support. Nothing more. So I needed to keep my opinions to myself until he was done with Dr. Candace. Then I’d show him exactly what I thought of his concern.
“Billie, hon, I know you’re there, and I appreciate you keeping quiet,” she said through the laptop speaker, and my cheeks heated. She knew how hard it was for me to bite my tongue. With some gentle, open-ended questions, she prompted Rhett into spilling his story.
Even with his first sentence, I knew this was going to hurt just to hear. And then when I thought about innocent-child Rhett living this life, it gutted me.
“My grandfather is Jeremiah Townsend.”
A chill ran down my spine. I knew that fucking name. Most of America knew that name. Rhett’s grandfather was a cult leader, notorious for some stomach-churning crimes for which he’d magically been acquitted, time and time again. I’d never met him—thank fuck—but even from seeing him in the news there was no question in my mind; Jeremiah Townsend was evil incarnate. Something Rhett only confirmed as he continued.
“I don’t know how familiar you are with Townsend Community,” he murmured, his attention on the laptop screen rather than me, “but it’s a cult, thinly veiled by a made-up religion built off of a dystopian fiction novel that Jeremiah’s father wrote.”