Almost two full weeks have passed since we came back from our trip to James’s cabin in Bannport, and for every second of every hour, I’ve wondered how I got myself into this mess.
I literally had one job—don’t fall in love with your physical therapist. Former PT. It’s not like it makes a difference.
I don’t want a relationship. My integrity has been compromised before by too many people who I thought cared about me but ended up breaking me.
It’s like I’m damaged, and all people see when they look at me is a person they can have a good time with today and throw away tomorrow.
But most of all, I’m tired. Exhausted, really, of always wondering when the next person I love will leave.
James and I have a good thing going on right now, and I don’t want to ruin it with conversations that will lead nowhere. I want to revel in our time together for as long as we have.
And I also want to revel in that banana bread he’s baking. Why lie?
“Get ready for the foodgasm of your life,” James says way too confidently as he checks our dessert, currently—and hopefully—not burning inside the oven.
I watch him from the kitchen island, head resting on one of my fists. “Mm… I don’t know about that. You’ve set the bar pretty high so far.”
While baking might not be his calling (although he refuses to admit this), James is an excellent cook. His pasta dishes have impressed me so far, and so has his ability to craft the perfect hamburger. I would inject his parsley salad dressing in my veins every day if I could.
“With foodgasms, or orgasms in general?” He smirks, the little shit, so naturally I choose to be a brat about it.
I pretend to be interested in my nails. “Definitely foodgasms. Last night was a six out of ten at best.”
When he doesn’t say a word to my obvious teasing, I know I’ve got him right where I wanted him.
James checks the timer on his phone before tossing it on the counter and starts towards me, a heated look in his eyes. He holds my hips and hoists me up on the island with ease before wrapping his fingers around the waistband of my leggings and panties and yanking them down my legs. I shriek as he tosses both items of clothing aside.
“I’ll show you a six out of ten,” he growls.
There’s nothing gentle about the way his mouth comes in contact with my sensitive nub, already so wet from one look at the possessiveness in his eyes. Those damn eyes.
He laps at my clit, sucking and kissing and piercing my entrance with his tongue, and I throw my head back in utter blissfulness. A strangled moan leaves my throat as he eases his middle finger inside of me, so ridiculously thick the intrusion blinds me for a moment.
I come in record time, shattering in his face as he drinks every drop of my release like he’s starved for the taste.
“So”—a kiss on the inside of my thigh—“damn”—another one—“perfect.”
Still breathless, I’m about to return the favor when the timer goes off. Before he gets away, though, I grab him by the collar of his T-shirt and press my mouth to his, not minding my own taste on his lips.
He pulls away with the cockiest of grins. “Did that help up my grade?”
I pretend to think about it, tapping my finger on my lips. “Still undecided. I think I need a re-do.”
His genuine chuckle lights up something inside of me, and so does the gentle kiss he plants on the tip of my nose.
Without warning, his demeanor shifts. Something new and unknown settles in his eyes, and my heart leaps in my chest.
And then it leaps some more when he says, “I want to take you out.”
I stop breathing. I stop functioning altogether. “Out?”
Like a date? I want to ask, but I don’t. I don’t, because I’m too much of a coward to face the possibility that maybe, just maybe, James’s feelings for me are changing too.
You’re overthinking this.
“There’s a restaurant downtown I’ve been meaning to try for months. We could go together,” he continues, as if he hasn’t just shattered all my inhibitions. “My treat.”
My treat. Is he for real?
I’m going to pass out.
“Are you free tomorrow night?”
Am I free? Am I—
Okay, Maddie, stop it.
This is quite simple. If I want to go, I just have to say yes. And if I don’t feel like it, I can turn him down and we’ll go back to normal. Easy.
But I know what I want. I’ve known for a while now.
So I give him a smile and hope my voice sounds steady as I say, “I would love that.”
“Good.” When he returns the smile, so soft and gentle, I melt a little more. “I’ll pick you up at seven from your place.”
As the night and some light rain descend upon the city below us, we decide that banana bread and some chocolate milk make a perfect Sunday dinner. Because we’re two functioning adults with a perfectly balanced diet, duh.
The horror movie we’re watching gets so ridiculously unconvincing (no families ever think of moving out of their haunted house?), I zone out, my mind wandering to a place I considered forbidden not too long ago.
It’s been a few weeks since I started my teaching position at the ballet studio downtown, and every day I’m growing more and more attached to my students and the routine in general. Plus, between that and a few waitressing shifts, I make more than enough to be financially independent again.
Sammy insisted that he could pay for everything until I got some savings, but I refused. The second he agreed, I breathed easily again for the first time in months.
It still stings to think about what my injury took away from me—the only difference is that I now realize not all is lost. Much like James told me all those months ago, my life isn’t over. It’s far from it.
Sometimes dreams take a bit longer to happen, and sometimes they change completely because so do we. For the first time ever, I’m comfortable riding the wave and seeing where it leads me.
Inevitably, though, thinking about my future in ballet brings up something I haven’t allowed myself to consider since I went to that event with Kyle. Mainly because I fear what the answer will be.
I had my first checkup only a couple of days ago, and according to one of James’s colleagues at the clinic, everything is looking up. We agreed transferring me to another physical therapist would be the right thing to do, since James is too invested in me now and—going by what he told me—could compromise my health.
And I know he said I should wait at least a year before putting that kind of pressure on my ankle again, but maybe…
Surely you’d want to do something a bit more meaningful with your career, wouldn’t you?
No matter how hard I try to shake it off, this weird feeling that festered in my chest at Suzanne’s harsh words won’t go away. It’s uncomfortable.
Before the gala, I would’ve jumped at any—and I mean any—opportunity to join The Norcastle Ballet. And now…
Now what?
The opportunity I’ve been begging for and never thought I would get back is right here at my fingertips. And this time, it’s not my ankle that’s holding me back. Not exactly.
“Can I talk to you about something?” I blurt out before my brain can register this is probably not the time. I want to enjoy a drama-free Sunday, thank you very much.
But life has other plans.
James pauses the movie. “Of course you can talk to me. Are you okay?”
Am I?
“Do you remember the night I went with my friend Kyle to that fancy event hosted by The Norcastle Ballet?” When he nods, I continue. “Well, he introduced me to Suzanne Allard, one of the best choreographers in the industry. I was starstruck when we met, but then she said… She said something weird.”
His brows furrow. “Weird how?”
I shift on the couch, making sure not to bother a sleepy Shadow napping on my lap. “Kyle had told her about my injury, and she asked me how I was doing. And when I mentioned I was a ballet teacher at a local studio, she said…” Just repeating her words makes me sick to my stomach. “She said she hoped I’d want to do something more meaningful with my life. With my career.”
At that, something furious passes his eyes. “Meaningful?”
I snort, although I find none of it funny at all. “That was my reaction too. But that isn’t all she said.” Swallowing, I brace myself for what I already know he’s going to say as soon as the next words leave my mouth. “She said they were holding some open auditions for the company this winter,” I tell him, still not fully grasping this is real in the first place. “I looked it up on their web page, and the deadline for video submissions is in a couple of weeks.”
His features soften, knowing where I’m headed with this “Baby…”
I shake my head, wrapping my fingers around Shadow’s black fur. “I know. It’s silly to even consider it. Plus, what she said about ballet teaching not being meaningful… I don’t know. It rubbed me the wrong way.”
He wraps his hand around the back of my neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad you want to know my opinion about these things, Maddie. I’m happy I can help you because that’s exactly what I want to do.”
The more time that passes, the more I’m convinced this man can’t be real.
Maybe that’s why you think so, because he’s a man, not some boy.
Maybe men are supposed to treat their women like this.
Not that I’m his woman or anything. More like an orgasm buddy.
Yeah. That sounds about right.
“You want to know if your ankle will be okay if you go back to professional ballet now,” he states, seeing right through me.
I only shrug. “I know it won’t, and…” Another sigh. “I can’t believe I’m even going to say this, but meeting Suzanne was like a wake-up call. All night I got the feeling people weren’t as genuine as they wanted everyone else to believe, and then she said that. It sounded elitist, you know? And I’m not sure I want to work with people who hold those kinds of values, TNB or not.”
His fingers find the little hairs at the nape of my neck. “Have you fallen out of love with your dream?”
He massages my scalp, and the calm he brings me breaks down my walls, the ones I hadn’t even noticed were up and ready to…what? Protect me from the harsh reality that I thought I knew what I wanted, only to find out not everything is as cotton-candy sweet as it seems?
“Maybe I’m overreacting,” I wonder out loud, blinking away the fog in my brain. “I can’t judge a whole institution based on my bad impression of just a few people.”
He keeps massaging my scalp, and it’s the only reason my anxiety isn’t through the roof. “But you said people weren’t as genuine as they seemed?”
A tired sigh escapes me. “I don’t know. I overhead some girls gossiping about someone else, and then I saw them all laughing together as if they were the best of friends. The Suzanne thing too… I just… I don’t know.”
I know what I’m doing. Deep down, I’m very aware I’m stalling.
Because what if this dream, my ultimate goal for the past decade, isn’t for me after all? And not because I’m physically incapable of dancing, but because I’ve finally taken off my rose-tinted glasses.
A comforting pressure sets on my temple, and I realize his lips are on me. “You could talk to Kyle and ask him what the people there are like,” he suggests, his voice as soothing as his mouth against my skin. “Just to get a second opinion from someone who works there.”
It’s not a bad idea, but… “What if he confirms my suspicions?” I swallow back the lump in my throat.
James, this bear of a man who can calm my heart one second and set it on fire the next, wraps one of his muscular arms around me and presses my body against his warm chest. “Then you’ll get to create a new dream.”
Heavy rain hits the windows as the seconds pass, then the minutes. Shadow has long abandoned my lap and is now curled up with his brother, oblivious to the storm raging not only outside, but in my head as well.
For years I’ve been living in fear, terrified of the day when everything I’d built for myself would come crashing down. And then it happened.
My worst nightmare—losing my dream career before it could even begin—came true. But I’m still alive and kicking, and that should count for something.
Whatever you decide to do next, it will fail as well. That’s the way your life goes.
I shut my eyes, willing my former therapist’s voice to go away, to free me from her shackles.
It’s been close to four years, and the seed of self-doubt and contempt has grown into the tallest of trees, and I can’t root it out. I can’t.
I can’t.
✽✽✽
James
Maddie is upset, and I understand why. The only thing I can’t figure out is why her sadness makes me feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest.
For nearly thirty minutes, I do nothing but stare at the wall in front of me, cradling her back to my front, holding her there. I wait until she calms down, but time goes by, and her breathing doesn’t even out.
My hand reaches for hers, resting on her stomach. “Hey,” I murmur in her ear, squeezing her unusually cold fingers. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
Her next words break my heart. “No, it’s okay. You didn’t sign up for all of this.”
“I signed up for you, Maddie. The whole package.”
I want it all, I almost say. But I don’t.
Because what does that mean?
She shrugs. “We’re only fuck b—”
“If you say we’re only fuck buddies, I’m going to spank that ass of yours until it turns bright red.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
I let out a deep sigh. “I only want you to tell me what’s going on so I can help you.”
For a while, she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t react. Then, abruptly, she disentangles herself from my arms and changes positions on the couch so she’s looking directly at me.
When my gaze collides with hers, all I see is boiling anger behind those beautiful hazel pools that can hide so little.
“Do you want to know what’s wrong?” she asks, her voice so agitated I know she’s not really asking. So I say nothing as she continues. “A therapist who was supposed to help me improve my mental health wrecked it instead. And now, even so many years later, I can’t get her stupid voice out of my head, telling me that I’m going to ruin everything good in my life because I’m too selfish to be a good daughter, and a good sister, and a good friend.”
I make a move to wipe away the tears that are now running freely down her cheeks, but she pulls away. “Let me cry.” Her voice breaks. “I need to cry.”
I nod. “Okay, sweetheart. I’m here when you’re ready to continue.”
It’s like she doesn’t even hear me. Like she isn’t here at all—at least, her head isn’t. She barely blinks as she casts an empty stare over my shoulder.
The minutes tick by and no words leave her lips, so I wait. I sit next to her, patiently, forever if she needs me to, until she mutters, “She ruined my life.”
Something dark and ugly stirs in the pit of my stomach. “What she did was fucked up, but your life is far from ruined, Maddie. You have full control of it.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.” She shakes her head, but not before letting out a heavy sigh that lets me know just how tired she feels. How defeated.
And I won’t have that.
“Maddie. Look at me.” When she does, I hold her stare and hope she feels the truth, the commitment in my voice. It’s all I can give her. “I know you’re tired, baby, I know it. But if you want to do something about her, if you want to file a complaint against her, I’ll help you do it. I promise to be with you in every step of the process, okay? Just say the word.”
For a fleeting moment, I think she might be considering it, but then she asks, “What’s the point? A complaint won’t fix the damage she’s done to my head.”
“I know that.” When I reach for her hand, this time, she doesn’t pull away. So I lace her much smaller fingers between mine and say, “But if she’s still working, she might be doing the same thing to other patients. Don’t you want to stop that from happening? Or try to, at least?”
That seems to convince her a little more. “I’ll just have to file a complaint?” she asks, her voice so small, it breaks me.
“Then a licensing board will investigate and decide on a punishment—or let her walk away if she’s not guilty. It could take a long time, but I’m here for you if you want to do it. Every step of the way, Maddie. I’m not going anywhere.”
She stares at our hands, and for an infinite moment, all I can hear is the beating of my heart and the rain outside hitting the windows of my apartment.
And then she speaks.
“I looked her up online a few days ago,” she admits, her voice still meek. It kills me that I can’t physically take her pain away. “She posts videos online now, talking about therapy and other stuff I couldn’t even sit through.”
“Okay,” I prompt her.
“I watched her most recent videos, and she had quite a few comments. Most were positive, but there was one…” A pause. “One person said they had gone to her therapy sessions and that she made them feel like their problems were nothing. Like they were being overdramatic. That’s exactly what she did to me.”
“And you know the name of the person who left the comment? Maybe we can look them up and see if they’d want to file a joint complaint.”
But she shakes her head. “It was a random username. But the thing is, I went back to the video the next day and the comment was gone.”
My eyebrows shoot up at that. “So she’s deleting negative comments?”
“She’s silencing people who have the right to speak up if they feel that she hasn’t been a good professional. I just hope that person left a review somewhere else, where it can’t be deleted.”
I give her hand a squeeze. “You’re not the only one with a bad experience. You’re not seeing things. It’s not normal for a therapist to get the same complaint over and over.”
“Maybe.” She shrugs again, her eyes locked on our intertwined hands. “Would you really help me report her?”
“I’d do it for you if I could. If it meant not seeing you in pain anymore, I would.”
A calm expression washes over her beautiful face. And when she wraps her arms around me and buries her nose on my neck, I know I’ve never felt so fucking complete.
I hug her back, wishing I could wipe away all the hurt in her heart but feeling immensely proud of her for fighting for herself.
“Thank you for always taking care of me,” she mutters against my skin.
I shut my eyes and breathe in her clean scent. “You make me want to be a better man, Maddie. I will always take care of you.”
And I realize it then, a truth that has been looming over me for months now.
I can’t take care of Maddie in the way she deserves because, in a way, I’m not taking care of myself.
I’ve been stuck in the past for twelve years, hung up on what my brother and my ex did to me when I should’ve focused on healing myself. Fully.
Maddie is… Fuck, she’s my everything. And I want to be her all.
But I can’t do that, I could never give her the happiness she deserves, if I don’t move on from this chapter of my life that has dragged on for far too long.
And I know exactly how to put an end to it.
